Page 114 of Grave Matter

We go up the stairs to my room, and she takes my flashlight out of the drawer, which I’ve already left on a few times by accident, the batteries too weak now to work properly. Then she takes out a candle and lights it, plus another one on top of my dresser.

“You going to be okay?” she asks me as I sit on the edge of my bed, the smoke from the match wafting across the room.

“Are you tucking me in?”

“No,” she says with a wink. “But I’m going to take advantage of having the power out.” She wags her brows suggestively, and I know that Rav is on her agenda again.

I also think she wants me to stay put and not go looking for Kincaid. I don’t blame her for that. I don’t even know what I would say to him. I’ve said so much to him already, and he always has an answer.

It’s in your head, he’ll say.

The wild animals I know he’s seen.

He probably knows exactly why they are that way.

But me, throwing up mycelia?

Me, seeing the secret lab through the cougar’s eyes?

He’ll just tell me it’s all in my head.

And maybe it is.

Maybe everything is truly in my head.

But I trust myself to figure it all out before he does.

“Take it easy tonight, okay?” Lauren says as she walks to my door. “You’ve looked better.”

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically.

She sticks her tongue out at me, but in that last second before the door closes, I see the gravity in her expression, how much she truly worries.

Leaving her behind will be hard.

But it’s necessary.

I sit on the side of the bed for a while, watching the candles flicker, my thoughts going nowhere and thinking everything. Then I decide to pick up my diary, flipping through the entries, of which I only remembered to write in every couple of days. Everything I thought and felt is recorded, and reading it reminds me that if anyone were to find this, they would only think I’m crazy. This reads like the rantings of a lunatic, not someone to be taken seriously.

Maybe even I shouldn’t take myself seriously.

Still, I pick up my pencil and start writing down everything that happened today, forcing myself to relive it, forcing me to record every detail. I fill pages of it.

Finally, after what feels like hours, I get to my feet and grab the candle, walking it over to the mirror, wanting a good look at myself.

Woof. Lauren wasn’t lying when she said I’ve looked better. My face is as pale as a ghost, purple bags under my eyes, my lips cracked and dry. I stand there, staring at myself, the flickering candles creating light and shadows to dance on my face.

They dance until my appearance changes.

My nails are long and black.

My hair brown.

Then it goes back to blonde again, and Kincaid appears behind me, hands on my shoulders.

I glance down. My shoulders are bare. He’s not here.

And when I lift my head again to look in the mirror, there’s no one there.

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