I'm not particularly a religious person. I never really connected with the idea of believing in a God or a Devil; something like religion never really resonated with me until the night a few of my friends and I explored the Lockwood house.
My mother gave me a laptop this morning; she thought that it might help me cope or whatever so here I am, typing what I remember. I haven't been able to sleep; there's a shadow that stands in the corner of my hospital room at night, and sometimes I hear voices inside my head telling me to do things, and I'm terrified.
No one believes me. They keep stating that my traumatizing experience must have triggered my anxiety. They called it a dissociation or detachment from reality, I think. Whatever. I know that what I saw in that house was real, and what had happened to my friends actually did happen. We just wanted an experience. We never really stopped to evaluate the risks that might come with it.
I guess I'll start from the beginning.
It was Friday morning, and I decided to kill some time in the library across from my high school. The greatest thing about being in a library was the calming atmosphere. I leaned forward on the worn sofa and rolled my eyes as I turned the page.
What? I scoffed. Why is this even a thing someone would think is even remotely attractive?
[ I am a lot to handle, but I can assure you that you'll have fun handling me, love ]
Seriously? I've met drunk perverts hanging outside of bars with better pick up lines than that I thought to myself. I didn't think it could get any cringier until I read the next line.
[ My heart did an unexpected flip, startled by his bizarrely attractive smile ]
I frowned inwardly. You know what you really need instead of a creepy-ass stalker boyfriend? A cardiology consult
"So annoying," I sighed. How is this tripe a best seller?
"What's annoying?"
"Oh, shit." I squeaked. I sat upright and turned around, instinctively about to clog the person when I realized who it was. Harlen leaned up against the wall with a tilted smirk on his face. He stood between me and the fluorescents.
Harlen was a fellow classmate and a friend of Mark's, who was an older guy Albie, and I guess Harlen hung out with. Harlen was a tall, attractive guy with an athletic build, short obsidian hair, and grey eyes. To quote the main character in the novel, Harlen was the kind of trouble smarter girls than I had fallen into with disastrous results and a few regrets.
My cheeks flushed and I closed the book as he cocked his head at me. "Did I seriously scare you?" He joked, but his smile faltered slightly as I glared up at him.
"Dude," I groaned. "Don't sneak up on me like that,"
"What? I didn't sneak," He crossed his arms over his chest in protest. "No sneaking was involved. I just walked over here. And to be fair, this is a library-silence is sacred in a library so technically we're supposed to sneak. We're also the only ones in here right now anyway, so who cares."
My eyes did a pointed sweep of the decidedly empty area before settling back on Harlen's with an unamused glower. "Yeah," I said. "I'm pretty sure the zero other people in here appreciate the deceptive aura of calm. What are you doing here?"
"Well, actually I was doing some research for a paper I'm writing for English." He tightened his grip on his bookbag. "I was told I'd find you here," He explained.
"Why?" I asked. "I didn't tell anyone that I was here."
"I've got my ways of tracking people down."
