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.

I Am A Retard Sometimes

ORIGINALLY POSTED SUNDAY, JANUARY 16; 4:42 AM

I am so fucking dumb. I'm EIGHTEEN. I can just leave the house and Mom and Dad can't fucking do jack.

So, I had an idea. Flowers always show up on Mondays. Always. I mean, more flowers show up on other days of the week, but every Monday there are flowers.

I'm going to sneak into school this time tomorrow. I'm going to catch the bastard in the act. Then, well...

I haven't thought that far ahead, I mean, I can't just shoot the bastard, can I? Maybe if I find him I should get the cops' attention.

But then again, why shouldn't I shoot him? He might have killed Vanessa. And now he's going after Ashley. Who knows how many girls he'll take before he's finished?

I'd talk to Tara about this...but I don't know. She's...I'll understand if she hates me now. I'll understand. I shouldn't have said those things but she doesn't understand. Life's so easy for her. Her parents are rich. She has all the options in the world. Me...I'm white fucking trash. That's not gonna change. And..and I'm a freak. Every girl I know has been fawning over boys since middle school but...nothing. I don't feel anything for boys, or girls either, before you get any ideas. (whoever you are, since I haven't actually been posting these) Just...nothing where hormonal craziness should be.

So there's nothing for me. Nothing for me to lose.

That's it. I'll shoot the bastard. Doesn't matter if I go to jail for it. I don't matter anyway.

Bad to Worse

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN TUESDAY, JANUARY 4TH, 2011; 3:21 AM

I can't sleep.

Vanessa is missing and I should have done something. I could have done something.

She was jumpy the whole of Friday night. The other girls kept trying to keep her mind off of it, tried to keep her interested in other things. And it worked for a little while. But then she got up to go to the bathroom and she just started screaming at the top of her lungs and pointing out the window.

The cops were in the house in a flash, like they'd been sitting outside with their fucking ears to the door. She said she saw 'HIM' standing outside, looking in. Saw 'HIM' smiling at her.

They didn't find anything, of course. Told her to calm down and that they'd keep her safe. Yeah, that fucking worked out great, didn't it?

Nothing really happened again until Saturday night. I'd passed out on the floor and woke up when Vanessa started shaking me. Said she saw 'HIM' again, standing a bit away from the house. I told her to tell the cops, but she said 'HE'd leave if they started coming. I asked her what she wanted me to do about 'HIM'.

She told me she wanted me to shoot 'HIM'.

I should have. I should have but I didn't fucking know! How could I have fucking known?!

I grabbed my rifle, loaded a few rounds, and walked out of the house. I saw...it was the guy, the one making the lewd gestures. I didn't get a good look at 'HIM'. I should have shot 'HIM' but I didn't. I started walking towards him, gun aimed.

"Get off my property." I ordered, probably sounding magnitudes less tough than I was trying to sound.

I got close to...to whoever it was. I tried to look them in the face. I don't remember much, but something happened, something happened I don't know what.

When I woke up, I was in the emergency room. Vanessa and Tara were there and Vanessa was a wreck. Devastated.

According to her and Tara, I just fell over. I don't remember falling over. I don't remember anyfuckingthing except that I tried to look 'HIM' in the eyes. Tried to tell him to get off my fucking property again.

I don't know why I'm writing it like that. 'HIM'. It's just, that's her tone. The tone Vanessa used.

I don't know what's going on. The slumber party was a bust after that. They took Vanessa into direct police custody. They kept me under observation for a while but there wasn't anything wrong with me besides a bump on my head from when I fell.

She disappeared. From police custody. Just vanished. They still haven't found her. School was canceled, supposedly because of that, but I heard something different. I heard the janitor found some more flowers in another girl's locker.

I don't know what's going on. I don't remember anything about the guy.

Except one thing. I know 'HE' was smiling. I can't remember what the guy was wearing. I can't remember what 'HIS' face looks like. But I remember he was smiling.

I'll be ready for the smug bastard. Next time I'm shooting first.

Not Good

Things were weird at the sleepover.

Vanessa didn't come to school today.

Class has been canceled. The police were talking to Mr. Ash.

She was in my house! Why didn't I do something?

Fuck.

Weirdness I Did Not Need

So I got home from Gran's on Monday, got some nice gifts, and one awesome one (got me a cellphone, bitches. Dad gives the best gifts) and just basically wanted to unwind when Tara called me. Which is cool, as I was going to call her. Not so cool is the following, which is more or less a transcript of the call.

Tara: Hey, it's me.

Me: Hey double T, wanna chill later?

T: Totally. But, hey listen, do you want to have, like, a slumber party this weekend?

J: ...A slumber party? Did we turn thirteen again and I didn't notice?

T: I know, I know, but Carol Anne and Bethany really want one.

((Tara is using the tone of voice reserved for asking me to do something she knows I won't want to do))

J: ...there're conditions, aren't there?

T: They want it at your house, they want it Thursday, they want it to last the whole weekend, and they want to bring Vanessa along. I think it was Vanessa's idea. She's Carol Anne's cousin.

J: Why the fuck do they want a sleepover here? We only have the one bathroom, one couch, and no spare bed.

T: Well....they said we can do it somewhere else but please don't get mad, Jeanette.

J: What is it?

T: Carol said the only way Vanessa would want to stay somewhere else is if you brought your gun with you. I think that's the only reason she wants the sleepover, so you can be there with a gun.

She's really freaked right now. Apparently she woke up and her window was open and there were flowers on the sill.

J: Doesn't she have fucking cops following her or something?

((right here my mom yelled at me for profanity because I was getting pretty loud))

T: Pretty sure they'll be there too, waiting outside. Um, it might have been their idea.

J: That's BS and you know it. It was Carol Anne's fucking idea.

T: She's not that...

J: This is the same bitch that always jokes about me being a fucking Columbine kid waiting to happen. The only reason she even tries to be friends with me is because she's afraid of me.

((long pause))

T: ...so should I tell her no?

J: Let me ask my parents.

((they say yes because they want me to make friends with people who aren't Tara. Mom adds the usual "You hang around one girl all the time and...well, people might talk" bullshit))

J: They said yes. But you might want to see if we can do it at your place instead.

T: Sorry to dump this on you, hon.

J: Yeah, well...you've better gotten me a good Christmas present, bitch.

T: Whatever. You were crying.

J; Shut up, no I wasn't.

etc.

I wasn't, she's a lying bitch.

Anyway, looks like Tara's parents are having a New Year's Party, and my parents are going to a New Year's Party, so there's going to be four other girls in my bathroom all weekend.

I almost hope this stalker shows up so I can let out some aggression.

Oh and also I know it's weird I only really have one friend, but, honestly, Tara's the only person I've met I know I can trust and depend on. She's the only friend I need.

God she's not going to let me live down posting that.

Anyway they get here at like three in the afternoon so I should get some sleep.