Have no regret, have no pity

God please let me just get through this one post and then You can do whatever You want to me, You can leave me for the monster, just let me finish this one last thing.

If any of my family or friends find this...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, and please please please don't read any further. If you have any respect for me, if you love me at all you will stop here and turn around and remember me like I was and not look any further at this. I love you. I love you. I love you. Close this window and never look at it again.












I went home. There were no police on duty but there was crime scene tape on the door and around the whole area and my neighbors were gone or something because everything was so still. It was hot, I was sweating and had chills running through my shoulders at the same time...I couldn't open the door for a while. I kept trying to turn the handle but my fingers wouldn't move right but I did it finally, turned the key in the lock and pushed it open looking away. And then I looked and then I looked and then I looked and then
There was blood all over. He must have
not going to think about that now. He wasn't there the police took his body. So. So I didn't see. Thank God. And he's safe somewhere and...if I'd seen him I'd go insane. I probably have. I feel like it. I'm laughing now because oh God oh Jesus who thought this would be a good idea? Who decided to put this on the girl who can't even fucking deal with school without losing it who thought I could live through this and not be crazy? I can't can't can't can't can't deal with this and I'm like a broken record but can't stop

More ativan. more red wine. yes let me get numb and tired and sick just let me type right. where was I. blood. blood blood blood all over the floor making the carpet crunch how will Mr. Martinez get the stains out for the next tenant? My bookcase knocked over and my beautiful books on the floor. didn't go into the kitchen. Couldn't.
My room next. untouched. Messy but that's how I left it. Just no change at all like they hadn't even looked in there for me. When I closed the door..(X) burned in perfect lines like someone took their skinny index finger and dragged it across the wood like it was drawing in the dust. My heart my heart
The other room where he was sleeping. Just an air matress and a suitcase and oh god my heart is breaking now please i can't Ican't

the bathroom mirror opened again. Where I found Jill's notebook and those masks remember? Where she tried to help me oh Jill oh Kevin
Stop
the mirror had a print a small hand print a woman's hand. Her hand smudged in blood and I knew she opened it because of course she knew even though no one else knew not even me
inside the mirror, just this:

me and him I can't stop crying. my sophomore year we took this in his house we were making cookies and forgot to put in any sugar and they were the worst things we'd ever had. he said we were the picture of success and took it and got actual prints of it because he likes real physical things
can't breathe this hurts this hurts
on the back

and I know. it's still a trap and a stupid obvious one and this time even my stupidity won't help because i know exactly where and what the monster wants. this time i'll be there on time.
want to know the funny part of this the really awful stupid funny part? my bat. I took it with me to flagstaff and it's sitting in my room at home where it will do no good ever, just another curiosity for my mom to wonder about when I'm gone. if i forgot it in tucson would he still be alive? So I've killed him another way that's one two three ways
but no more okay no more. Because next it'll be Aunt Caroline or Jess or Ted or Dad or Mom and no, next it'll be me and it'll stop there. It has to.

I am not letting the slender man take anyone else from me. is this enough that i'm walking into a trap that i'll die at this old dead place a mile away from a truck stop and a freeway is this enough for Jill and Grandma Alice and Andrew and Kevin? no never never never enough but it's all I can do. if I can. God forgive me and keep me because I will try to commit a mortal sin today even if I fail I can go to hell for the intent of murder right but I don't care just no more that's allI want and you, you're reading this, you're running or fighting or anything just...live, live, live because I can't anymore.

thank you for listening to me
I love you even if I'll never know you
goodbye

the end this has to end

I'm writing this from a hotel room in Tucson. Last night I threw some clothes in my car and drove down here without sleeping, I didn't tell Mom or Ted I was leaving because they'd have come with me and I can't endanger them...now I understand why Jill ran. I'm poison. I can't have this happen anymore. I have to do everything on my own now.
I am very very medicated right now and I'm still crying.
Yesterday I found out Jekyll died. And then a few hours later I got a call from the police. they said that a tall bald man in a suit and a short woman with greying hair had been seen entering my house, and the woman came out later, alone, with blood on her dress. The police were called but my neighbors, who made the call, said the woman had just vanished. The police found my door locked from the inside and when they knocked it down they found blood all over and Kevin
I can't even look at his name when I type it. My eyes keep sliding away.
They found him in the kitchen. They said he had tried to put up a fight. They didn't know how Harriet had overpowered him.
I can't duck this responsibility. I'm at fault and no one can say any different. she killed him because of me.

the police think I'm in flagstaff but my parents probably know I'm here so I don't have much time. I'm goingback to my house if I can face it, and I have to face it, because I neeed-
there's something there and I dont' know what it is but I know there has to be some kind of message from Kevin or Harriet or the fucking monster itself just something sometthing something I can do so I don't kill myself right now

going home, going home. this has to stop.

I know you're going to read this you fucking bitch and why is this happening I love him okay you fucking cunt I love him he's the best thing that happened to me and you you monster you fucking sociopatic monster

oh Kevin please please I love you please don't say she really killed you please don't really be dead

Just to say

...no one's heard from Harriet and although the police are still looking for her in Texas, there's been no sign of her. My mom shouted at them again and I asked her not to do that, and she said the police are idiots if they can't keep a 50 year old woman in jail. I wanted to say it wasn't their fault, that there's nothing they could do, but of course I can't explain it.

But I'm still safe and so is my family, and that's all I can ask.

Thank you Jean for giving a shit about me.

She's gone

Officer Clinton called again. Somehow, and the police can't figure it out, Harriet has gotten out of jail. She's escaped. She's free. She was in an empty cell with no way out and she just vanished.

When he told me I dropped the phone and my mom grabbed it and started screaming at him, asking why the police weren't doing their job, how could they let this happen, and I sat down on the couch and asked her to stop, it wasn't his fault, like a little mouse or something. I don't even think she heard me. But she did stop eventually and said "yes" a few times and hung up the phone and hugged me for a long time. She said that the cops would be watching this house and they were on their way now. I said, "And Andrew" because I thought what if she knows about him, and Mom said "We'll tell the hospital staff, okay?" and she called and we did.

There's at least 2 plain-clothes police officers outside my house right now. I'm being watched again but this time it's for my safety. But I'm scared for them. Because her master got her out of jail and what if it comes with her to Flagstaff? I can't have more of my family hurt, I can't have innocent policemen hurt...god dammit I'm just so scared. I thought this was over. I was so stupid but I did think it was over...

this isn't fair

I thought it was over

Please, please, please, please

I was with Andrew today and I swear to God I saw his foot move. Please, please, please let it be real, let me not have imagined it. I'll do anything, just let him wake up.

*Edit: The doctors said there was never any change. I imagined it after all.

An idyllic holiday

I went hiking on Mount Elden with a friend of mine from high school, and when I got back and checked my phone, I found a message from a Texas police officer named James Caroll. I called him back about an hour ago, and he said he didn't want to scare me, but was there was any way that Harriet could know my current location. I thought, yes, of course, her fucking boss told her, but I said no. He told me she had said something yesterday about Flagstaff, and he'd found it odd enought that he asked for my number from Officer Clinton. He also said don't worry, they'd checked her cell top to bottom and she was very secure. So I thanked him and got off the phone and went back out to take a walk and clear my head, except the trees kept scaring me and that stand of aspens behind out house, I can't really look at it anymore, and I keep having these nightmares that I can't remember.
So I went to visit Andrew in the hospital yet again and cried.

Home, home, home

...and here is where I'm going to stay, at least for the forseeable future. Kevin's going to be keeping an eye on my place in Tucson, until June at least, and the rent runs out in July...we'll see if I decide to go back. I'm almost considering transfering to NAU so I can be near my family, no matter if the art program isn't as good up here.
I noticed that my last post was my 100th post. How lovely, I've done 100 pages on the worst semester of my life. At least the 100th post was sort of happy.

I left Tucson at 5 in the morning, that was how badly I wanted to get up here. I barely even packed, just threw all my clothes into garbage bags and grabbed my laptop and sketchbook and whatever books I had lying around. And my bat. I dropped the key off at Kevin's place (woke him up, sorry Kevin) and was gone by 5:30.

Traffic was light and I managed to get to Flagstaff by early afternoon, before Mom and Ted were off work, so I went straight to the hospital. Aunt Caroline was there, of course. She has to go back to work next week, because she's almost out of paid vacation. She had a lot of vacation days. She was planning on going on a trip to New York with Andrew this summer.

When I saw him on that bed, I started sobbing. He looked so little. Andrew's this tall, gangly kid with a huge mop of curly black hair and they cut all his hair off, shaved it down to stubble, and he's so pale under that California tan...he doesn't look like himself anymore. He looks sick. And that's scary, to see my cousin look so sick, with those big purple bruises around his eyes...he's always been healthy, strong, active. He dances to shitty ska music all the time. He can't be lying in this white room with all these beeping machines around him, looking like...well, he looked like Daniel did, in the end. And that scares me most of all.

Aunt Caroline hugged me and we sat there and cried and held his hands and talked to him. He didn't wake up, of course. That's not how it works in real life. The doctors say if he doesn't come out of it within a month, his chances are slim. And Aunt Caroline doesn't know if she can pay for him to stay on life support. Which is...God, I don't even want to think about it.

Ted made french toast for dinner tonight, which he always does to cheer me up. He has a special way of making it that no one can come close to. Ted is wasted as a principal, he should have been a cook. We sat around the dinner table and it felt so empty, and outside was so cloudy and cold. Usually when I'm home it's all jokes and plans and hanging out on the couch watching basketball, but even though there's a Suns game on tonight and Ted always wants to watch them play the Spurs, the tv stayed off and we just sat around talking for hours.
But even if it's weird at home, I'd still rather be here than anywhere else. I feel safe here, and I'm close to Andrew. And that's all I can be.

One more thing- I'm retiring the (X) as a tag. Jill said it marked the Slender Man's territory, and I don't want it on anything of mine.

Saved

Kevin is...God, there are no words. If I ever doubted it I think I know now, I think I'm willing to admit it. I'm in love with him. I'll probably never tell him but I think I have been ever since we met in freshman year, at a party at Christian's house (and where is Christian now?) and someone introduced us and he made a really awful pun about beer and I was the only one who laughed. He makes all these Dad jokes all the time, so bad they're funny, and if you don't laugh he just looks at you and crosses his eyes or does something stupid until you start laughing after all. He's always been there for me, whether he knows it or not, and I love him, I love him, I've never been in love before but I know this like I know my own name.

Kevin paid for my car to be fixed, so that I can go to Flagstaff and hold my cousin's hand.

He didn't tell me what he was doing until he'd scheduled it at the dealership. He said I could repay him by letting him stay in my house for a month, because his lease will be up soon and he hasn't found another place yet. I told him I'd have let him stay for free, and he waved me off and said if it mattered that much, I could pay him back when I got a job, but for now I should just get to Flagstaff and be with Andrew and the rest of my family. He spent over $200 on my stupid shitty car and then he gave me a book of funny short stories he'd gotten at Bookman's, just to cheer me up. He's the kindest person alive.



I'm getting the car back tomorrow. I'm going to be in Flagstaff by this time Wednesday. I am 21 years old, of sound body and heart if not sound mind, and I do hereby declare that I, Alison Laura Brent, am in love with Kevin Vaughn and if this ends, if this fucked up stupid thing somehow miraculously blows over, I will tell him so.

This is such a sappy fucking post but you have to believe me, every single word is true.

Just this

Andrew is still stable, still not responding. There is nothing new. Nothing. No tentacles, no monster, no nightmares of Andrew lying alone and the monster comes back to finish what it started, no waking up cold and scared because it's dark and something's thrashing outside the window. No ghosts of my grandma asking why. No phone calls from my mom where I have to try to be brave. There's no lying awake thinking about what if Kevin or Jess or Mom or Ted or Aunt Caroline or Dad and Laurie and Hannah catch its eye. No circles under my eyes, no empty bottles, nothing. Just empty space between the phone calls.

did some digging

In Jill's notebook, she mentions a teacher who saved her from the Slender Man. Miss Mary, she said was her name. She says elsewhere in the book that she went to Kyrene Del Norte elementary school, and that she was six when she was attacked. So I looked the school up online and called them to ask who was teaching first grade in 1996-98, because I couldn't remember when Jill was born exactly. They told me that they'd had three teachers during that time: Ellen Shapiro, Don Murphy, and Mary Gomez. I asked if I could get in contact with Ms. Gomez, pretended I was writing a paper about early education, and the secretary at the school told me that Mary Gomez had died, tragically, in an accidental house fire in 1999.

I hung up the phone.

Miss Mary saved Jill and she died.

Grandma Alice saved me and she died.

Kevin saved me and Andrew got in a car crash, and he's been in a coma for a week.

I can't do this much longer. I'm taking ativans faster than my perscription will allow, and drinking every day. And I haven't really been eating much because if I don't eat I can get drunk off less and I can save to get my car fixed and visit Andrew, and besides I'm not that hungry anyway. It's easier to deal with things if you sleep through most of the day. It's easier to live when you're not concious. Something has to change. Something has to be...I'd almost prefer when Harriett was still out because she was sharp, real, something I could fight. This is like being buried slowly by a machine. Nothing I do will have any effect. I can't solve any puzzles because there are no puzzles, just Andrew's coma and the tentacles thrashing outside my window if they're really there at all.

Am I crazy? It's not the first time I've asked this. If you look through these entries I look crazy. I'd say the pictures I drew when I was little are proof but they're not. What if this is me bringing up memories of my imaginary friend to deal with my real freind's death? What if this monster shit is just my mind finally breaking, right, some ghost called up and me believing it because my brain chemistry just happens to be that tiny bit off, and shifting? I know you can call up fake memories. I wrote about it. I wrote all of this. I could be lying though, I could be telling myself lies. Maybe even the comments aren't real. I never looked up mental illnesses, never went to therapy after I got diagnosed. I hate it. I want to say it's not who I am but it keeps coming back and back and back...I used to cut my legs up when I was sixteen and now I keep looking at knives like they'll fix things for me. I used to get drunk and cry wildly like a little kid haaving a temper tantrum and now I just get drunk and stare at the wall. Like I'm catatonic which is not a sane thing to do.

drunk again, now. Started sober. It's taken me hours to write this. Another thing I used to do when I was drunk was use capital letters and shout at the screen and again now I just stare and stare and star e and stare and stare and stare and

I just can't do this much longer.

What I know now

...is not much more than I knew before.

Let's start at the beginning. Today I woke up at noon and put on jeans and a T-shirt, and biked to the store to buy a bottle of wine. I figured that if nothing happened, I'd get drunk and try again. It ended up being windy and cloudy, but it doesn't really matter that much. Not like bright weather would do a lot to help my fears.
I got home and turned on the air conditioning, and locked all my doors. Then I taped newspaper over all of the windows, and shut all the blinds for good measure. I'm sure my neighbors think I'm insane. I honestly don't give a shit.
My house was sort of dark, like it was twilight inside, so I turned on all my lights. A huge waste of electricity, but again, I don't care. None of it really matters at the moment. It's not like I've got to worry a lot about the long term.

So I sat down with my laptop near me, and put on a ticking metronome thing I got online (here, if anyone cares), and I closed my eyes and listened to the ticking and thought about the Slender Man.

It wasn't hard. It's never far from my thoughts, really. I pictured it in its entirety- the height, the suit, the facelessness. The shiny shoes and long fingers and how it's so pale. I thought about how I used to call it Mr. Moon when I was little. I tried to remember being in the forest by my house and seeing that faceless face peer out from behind a tree.
I thought about it in my silent house with the doors flying open behind it.
I thought of it appearing in front of Andrew's car.
I thought about it standing in front of Jill, tentacles reaching out to cut her open.

I started shaking.
In the end, I did have a flashback, although it's not like I'd imagined it would be. I thought it would be like in the movies, where a person feels like they're in the moment again, and they can see and hear and taste that moment again. It's not like that. I never thought I was six again, I never lost the sensation of being in my living room with this ticking next to me. But I saw it, like one of those dreams where you know you're asleep.

I saw myself -- well, no, that's not right, I was myself as a little kid. Maybe 8, I'd guess. And it was summer, and I was coming out of a pine forest, on the side of the hill covered in brown needles, and I was walking home by myself. It was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was in my eyes, and then suddenly it wasn't, because Mr. Moon was blocking it out. And he had all of his arms reaching, reaching. I could see my house behind him. And Mr. Moon wasn't friendly anymore, he didn't feel safe anymore and he hadn't in a long time, and I had to get home so I'd be safe from him, so I could hid under my blankets and make him go away. I dodged his arms and ran.
I remember now that I tripped. My foot caught in a gopher hole or something and I landed on my outstretched hands, dirt and pine needles all down my front. I'd scraped my palms in the fall but the blood that would've sent me screaming for my mom didn't even register because Mr. Moon was turning around. He was leaning, reaching for me.
And I saw my Grandma Alice come out of the house, carrying a bottle of water, and in my adult, grown-up Ali mind in Tucson in 2011, I was screaming no, no, go back inside, please don't do this I know what you're going to do and I can't bear it if you see, but 1997 Ali was screaming the opposite, Grandma, Grandma, help me. And she turned around and ran to me and picked me up and comforted me. She never saw the monster at all, never saw it set one hand gently, gently on her forehead and then vanish. I did. I saw it and cried, but with relief, because when I was 8 I thought it was over. The faceless face outside my window went away, the forest felt safe again.
And then 2 years later Grandma Alice died. Of a stroke.

And then I open my eyes and let all the tears out.

I've known, intellectually, that when I was little, the Slender Man came after me. I've known it since February. Probably even before then, in some corner of my mind. I can look at the proof and figure out that for a period of 3 or 4 years (years! I can barely believe it) the monster hung around my house. And I know, obviously, that I escaped somehow. But it was like something I read about in the news, or heard second-hand. And now, suddenly, it's not. It's something that happened to me. And the reason I'm not...whatever happens to those kids, is because of Grandma Alice. She saved me, just like Kevin saved me last week, and God, oh please God let her stroke have been a coincidence because I couldn't bear it if her death was my fault...

I remember that Jill talked in her notebook about being saved too, when she was little. Her teacher saved her. I'm going to try and look that teacher up.

Remember

I realized that there is something I can do. It's probably not going to help, probably just going to make things worse but I don't care. If there's even the slightest chance of helping Andrew, of shifting the monster's focus back to me so it stops hurting the people I love, if I can remember anything that will help...so I'm going to do it. I'm going to try and remember.

I posted about this before, a while ago, and then abandoned the idea when Daniel attacked me. I said, and I quote, "it's off the table unless things get desperate." And I think this qualifies.

Tomorrow is going to be hot and sunny and utterly average in every way. A Wednesday. I'm going to lock all my doors and tape over my windows and play something rhythmic in the background, and try to remember. And pray that it works, and that it's worth it.

Bad bad things

I don't...I don't have the money to visit Andrew. My car is very old and doesn't work well, and last night I thought the battery died, but it was really some kind of complicated electrical issue that the honda dealership says will take over 200 dollars to fix, and my parents can't give me money because they have to help with Andrew and we don't have that much money anyway so...god dammit I just don't know what to do. I've been calling every few hours hoping for something to change but he's still in a coma...I'm useless. What would I do if I were there? Apologize? Have the Slender Man follow me back? Sit there all pointless at the edge of his bed, tell Aunt Caroline that everything's going to be okay?

Jess and Kevin were over last night offering support. I appreciate it but I sent them home because what if they get hurt too? Kevin was the one who saved me on friday. If something happened...

so I've been sleeping a lot. I sleep and then I wake up and call Mom and ask about Andrew, and then fall asleep again. I wouldn't mind as much if the monster came for me in my sleep. At least I wouldn't see it coming.

It's 1:30 in the afternoon, roughly, and I'm going back to sleep. Maybe when I wake up everything will be okay.

Andrew is my brother, almost. Andrew is this sweet funny kid who likes hockey and crappy movies and skateboarding. Is, is, is, is. And will always be.

Andrew got into a car crash while he was driving down to see me last night. The guy who saw it happen said he swerved to avoid a guy in a black suit in the middle of the road. The car flipped. Andrew's in ICU and Mom's saying he's in a coma but he's stable now but he might not wake up.

This is my fault. This is my fault. This is my fault.

And...

Toniight...wait I can't type still shaking



Okay. Okay. I came home tonight and put my backpack down and the house was silent. Everything silent and unnatural, like God turned the volume down except it wasn't God of course.
Silence though. Utter. Complete. I've never not heard anything at all. It was like I was deaf, but even more- I could almost feel the lack of sound. It was unreal. April fools right? Ha ha fucking ha.
And then the doors started swinging open one by one by one by one, bang bang bang bang bang hitting the walls so loud in that silence that absence like gunshots like breaking bones BANG BANG

and it was there


those waving tentacles oh God more absence, just space between real and unreal and if they touch me I'll die I'll go crazy I'll go crazy anyway because they're

reaching for me

and then and then

someone knocks on the door. Like a blessing. I can hear him knock. And the monster vanishes swirling tendrils black suit blank face all just gone, like a bad dream...like it was imaginary. And I can barely get up off the floor to answer the door but I do and it's Kevin and he's smiling and he hugs me while I cry and I can't breathe. He's sleeping on the couch in the next room over. He's real. He's saved me. I told him it was pent-up from the Harriet thing and he believed me And he can never, never, never know otherwise.

More later. I'm alive but just...still here. Still sane. That's it.