It’s so… dark.
When she bounces on the balls of her feet, eyes closed and face so serene, I’m almost pulled in with her. I can almost hear the drum, rhythmic, hypnotic, and I can sense the Voice in my head somewhere nearby, slowing. Like a purr, he enjoys this. He’s calmed. Lulled, almost. He sleeps.
How strange that Aka Manah should sleep so close to the one I hate most. It never fails to amaze me how opposites attract. Carly, the purest, most innocent and trusting girl alive and, well, Naida. I mean, look at her. You see that, right? Black magic? Enough said. She should be burned at the stake.
Naida is rocking back and forth now, praying to whatever goddess she serves. I wish I could hear what she’s saying. Whatever it is, she’s put the Voice in my ear into a coma.
Holy freak show, Dee. Just when I thought I was safe.
Naida saw me. Looked right up into my face like she knew I was there the whole time. I literally froze solid, but not just because she was looking at me. Because, for a second, I thought my own reflection in the windowpane was smiling at me.
Creeped.
Me.
The. Hell.
Out.
But then my eyes refocused and Naida was right at the window, face almost pressed against the glass, staring at me. My heart is still racing. Jeeeeeeebus.
It was the weirdest thing. She stared at me for a full three seconds, then leaned forward and blew out the candle, and the room was plunged into darkness. Could she have known I was there all along? Maybe she’s always known that I spy on her. Maybe these creepy rituals are for my benefit. Maybe she’s just laughing. Except she didn’t seem amused, Dee.
She looked scared.
Purple Post-It
Kait, did you move my biology textbook?
The one with the anatomy diagram on the front?
I really need it!
NO. But if you put your books in the bookcase once in a while instead of dumping them in piles all over, then you wouldn’t lose things! (And quit blaming me, you cheeky arsewipe—I despise structured education.)
10
The following video footage does not contain a time index and has been placed here because of its relation to the previous Kaitlyn diary entry.
Naida Camera Footage
Date and Time Index Missing
Magpie House Corridor
“Hey!”
The camera shakes violently as Naida moves briskly towards Kaitlyn, who is walking away from her down the hall. Kaitlyn doesn’t turn.
“Why were you spying on me last night?”
Still Kaitlyn doesn’t stop.
“I saw you!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Outside, in that tree. I’ve seen you there before.”
Finally, Kaitlyn turns, notices the camera, and blanches. “So?”
“So I want to help. Maybe you could, like, have a hobby? It’s sort of creepy having an audience.”
“Screw you.”
Kaitlyn storms away and slams the door behind her, glaring through the glass for a moment before running down the stairs.
“Shit.”
“Language, Naida,” comes a stern voice from off camera.
Naida films the empty corridor, but we catch her reply to someone at the other end. “Sorry, Miss Chisholm.”
“And you’re late for lights-out. The bell went off five minutes ago.”
“Sorry, miss.”
[END OF CLIP]
Naida Camera Footage
Date and Time Index Missing
Naida’s Dorm Room
Naida kneels before a short candle, and the shadow of the flame flickers along the floor and wall. Outside, the light is growing brighter, and the rain patters the windows in rhythmic droves. Beside her, Carly sits biting her lip. Naida first covers the candle with a small pot with holes all over it, so that the candlelight is scattered over the walls like raindrops. Then she removes a little drum from beneath her bed and begins to beat it while chanting phrases that the mic cannot pick up.
After a brief silence, during which Naida’s head remains bowed, Carly glances up at Naida’s mirror on the wall. It is covered with a cloth.
“So the dead can’t enter,” Naida says, looking up at her. “And so that our souls can’t get lost or be harmed.”
“Are we in danger?”
“We should be careful.”
Carly blinks, swallows, nods.
Naida takes a breath. “Great Father, Gorro, aid us in our prayer for our friend. Open the doorway for this communication. But protect us from wandering ears and eyes, and keep us safe. Keep her safe. Forgive our bold request. Bring us cleanly into the spirit world and help us bring our friend—sister—peace. Accept my small offering tonight, great Gorro, majestic Karrah, and bring harmony to the school.” She pours what appears to be wine or grape juice into a chalice from a silver jug, her hands shaking visibly. “Quiet any evil that may exist here and let it sleep.”
She raises the chalice to her lips and drinks deeply, then hands it to Carly, who sniffs the liquid, then takes a sip.
“Finish it.”
Carly does so with some difficulty, and when the chalice is empty, she coughs.
“Is it done? Will Kaitie be—”
“Blessed Father, great Gorro, honored Mother, kindly Karrah,” Naida interrupts, squeezing her eyes shut. “Thank you for your communion. We close the door.”
“Is it—”
“Done. Yes.”
“Kaitlyn will be happier? Calmer?”
Naida hesitates. “I hope so.”
[END OF CLIP]
11
126 days after the incident
Criminal Investigation Department, Portishead Headquarters
Avon and Somerset Constabulary, Portishead, Bristol
Tuesday, 7 June 2005, 09h20
AUDIO INTERVIEW #1, PART 1: Detective Chief Inspector Floyd Homes (FH) and Dr. Annabeth Lansing (AL)
(FH): Detective Chief Inspector Floyd Homes, Avon and Somerset CID, interviewing Dr. Annabeth Lansing on the seventh of June 2005. You were Carly Johnson’s therapist?
(AL): That is correct.
(FH): In what respect were you treating Miss Johnson?
(AL): Emotionally and psychologically. Carly suffered numerous complications after the death of her parents.
(FH): Were you the admitting doctor in Carly’s case? For Claydon, I mean.
(AL): No. Dr. Phillips admitted Carly, and I was brought in when she was diagnosed with DID.
(FH): DID?
(AL): It’s a personality disorder, normally brought on by severe trauma. Dissociative identity disorder.
(FH): Can you elaborate?
(AL): Dissociative identity disorder is a disruption of identity. There are usually two or more distinct personality states.
(FH): And Carly had this disorder?
(AL): That’s why I was brought in. It’s my field of expertise.
(FH): I see. [Shuffling paper] In plain English, Doctor, what are the symptoms?