He was my friend!
So, I understand Candice’s fear and her anger at him. Someone we trusted hurt us. He hurt me.My sister told me she knew the solution to all of our problems.
We were weak and meaningless to the supernatural world, but that wasn’t who we were on the inside. We could be powerful if we hid from the things that scared us.
Well, of course, she didn’t say it like that. She said it was to put ourselves in situations to showcase our strength. But what she meant was to hide from those who would make us feel powerless.
She told me to hide.So, I did.
But I never felt weaker.
I couldn’t undo the knowledge that beings like Jarron existed. It doesn’t matter how hard you pretend; monsters are real. I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder. I couldn’t stop fearing, all the time.
Until I met him. Another monster.
A monster who made me feel safe for the first time in years. He told me that the answer to conquering my fears wasn’t removing myself from them but facing them just the way I’ve faced him. Vincent,mymonster.
But that is only step one.
I can’t wait to see the look on my sister’s face when she realizes what I’ve done. When she sees that she was wrong the entire time and power was accessible to us.
I will be more than powerful.
I will be invincible.
26
To Her, I Am The Bully
Itoss and turn the entire night, unable to rest more than minutes at a time. Mostly, I wonder who would have done this. Who would nail a missing entry from my sister’s journal to my door?
Mr. Vandozer must have had contact with Liz’s journal before the investigators got to it. That makes sense because this entry would have pointed straight to him.
But then again, why rip out a single page? Or were there more? Will other entries show up on my door in a week?
Why not just destroy the journal altogether?
I also consider who would have delivered the message.
There is only one name that comes to mind that would have access to both my villain and Minor Hall.
So, I wake early, spend time doing my makeup and carefully covering my bite marks—they still make me physically ill to look at, and this nonsense with the notes and the journal is not helping.
I drink a coffee and munch on a pastry in the corner of the Minor mess hall, waiting for a certain someone to arrive.
Corrine finally walks in a few minutes before classes start, her hair a mess and dark circles under her eyes. I almost feel guilty when I walk over and slam the journal page onto the table in front of her.
She jumps and curls into herself in fear.
“Did you do this?” I demand.
Her expression is full of utter terror. Tears instantly well in her eyes, but she doesn’t respond. I’m honestly not sure she’s even capable.
“Are you still in contact with him?”
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head rapidly. “I didn’t do it,” she whispers. “I haven’t seen him.”
My stomach twists uncomfortably. “You’re sure?”
