This is Falling Apart

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN THURSDAY, MARCH 3; 5:55 AM

There are many ways I could start this, so I'll just say it outright.

When I opened my locker on Monday, Vanessa's nude, mangled corpse fell on me. It was bound in straps and long, torn sleeves and it was still warm. Her heart had been removed with something precise and impossibly sharp, just cut out along with a section of her ribcage. Her fingernails were missing and her skin was covered in cuts and scratches, her nose was missing, and her eyes looked as though they had been burned from her head.

I was told most of this afterwards because at the time I was screaming hysterically and trying to kick the corpse off of me. I want to call myself stupid or weak but honestly I agree with Tara, that was a perfectly fucking acceptable reaction to the fucking situation.

So there I was, struggling to throw her body off of me, getting caught in the straps and struggling like a fish in a net when I stopped, because IT was right fucking there.

I don't think anyone else saw it, but the Smiling Man looked down at me and offered its hand. It had torn its sleeves off at the wrist, torn the straps of its jacket off wherever they were. It had a head of messy red hair hanging in its face, partially covering up its impossible fucking eyes.

I didn't take its hand. It kept smiling at me, and then vanished.

In good news, the police don't think I did it anymore. But they do think I'm connected to the killer, so I'm under even tighter fucking observation than before. I'm surprised they're not reading this being typed over my fucking shoulder.

I...I don't know what to do anymore. It's changing, somehow. I think...it's like that Jack of Thorns guy said. It's giving itself its own body. I need to get in contact with him. He knows something.

But then what? It's fucking toying with me. It's FUCKING TOYING WITH ME.

Tara's been quiet. I'd like to think she's just afraid, just in mourning for Vanessa...but no, I think the wheels are turning. I think she's getting in over her head. And I also think that the minute I stop being amusing to this goddamn monster it's going to take her, like it almost did when I sold out Felicia.

That reminds me. The latest bouquet was found in the Junior High, across the street, in the locker of a seventh grader.

I don't know what to do. I feel like I should be doing something. I feel like this is my responsibility. But how can I fight a thing like this? Is it even possible?

Maybe I should look up this Slender Man thing that Tara mentioned. She's talked about it before. Maybe, if they're similar enough, they share a weakness.