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The Monthly Journal of Stephannie Kingston (Chp12)

December 20XX

They are coming.

They are coming for me.

As I write this, I am now in an old abandoned construction site, trying to hide out of sight and buy some time before they come and take me away. Frederick is by my side but the only thing he could do now is console me and keep me company.

I can hear the sirens blaring away.

I recognize which siren belongs to which vehicle.

There’s the police car siren. There’s the ambulance siren. And then there’s the psycho institution van siren.

I can even hear my family car.

They’re all out there, waiting for me to slip up and grab me.

I can’t go back. I don’t want to go back.

If I go back, they will make me wear a straight jacket. They will shove pills down my gut and stab me with syringes. They will give me useless therapies and counseling. They will give me the famous shock treatment. They will give me the confinement. They will force me to say things and admit to statements I don’t want to. They will make me “well” again, only that I am already sane to begin with and they are the ones who will drive me crazy.

They don’t understand what it feels like to be special. To have the gift of sight. To have the power to unlock doors to the other side and helpless to close them back up. To be unable to do anything as you watch people die because of your unintentional actions.

The day I met Frederick’s parents was the day I caused them to suffer. I went to visit them at their workplace, according to Frederick’s directions, and when I met them, I swore that it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever committed.

They were uncompassionate, cold and overly money-minded. At first they thought I was there to blackmail them for something they did and was prepared to whip out their checkbook, but after hearing my story about meeting Frederick and asking for an answer as to why it took so long for them to come back to claim his body when the hospital had already called them about his death the day he was admitted into the morgue, they nonchalantly replied that they were busy and caught up with other affairs. They replied that business is business and should not be mixed with personal affairs.

When I scolded them for being so cold-hearted they shouted back at me saying that this is a dog-eat-dog world, and one sign of weakness could bring down the entire business to ruins. The mother even admitted that Frederick was an unplanned thing, an unexpected result of a cocktail party, a mistake. They never wanted a child in the first place, and that they married because a merger between their companies was the next best thing to conquer the global market. They didn’t even have the decency to give him a proper burial. They just paid to the morgue to do whatever they want with him and his body was cut and dissected to donate his organs out.

Frederick burst into tears and flew out of the office, unable to believe the words that came out of their mouths. I was angry. A fire of vengeance burned inside me. I could never forgive them for being so cold and distant, even in Frederick’s death. I stood and said in a cold tone “You will regret it” before leaving, calming Frederick and told him that he has me and that they don’t deserve such a nice person such as he. After much coaxing, he finally agreed to what I said and promised that he will follow me forever, to the ends of the earth if he has to.

What I didn’t know was that as soon as I said those words to Frederick’s parents, my vengeful aura has unlocked an age-old seal that was put on an ancient sacrificial chamber which was located right under their workplace. According to what I’ve read in the tabloid news I got from the trashcan, in the past, before construction of the workplace building was made, they have discovered the tomb and hired a shaman to cleanse it and seal it in a way that the powers of the dead can be channeled to make business prosperous. As soon as I unlocked the seal and rendered it useless, business began to fail and within weeks, Frederick’s parents were driven into bankruptcy and had to sell off everything, including their house and any form of their properties to pay off the debts. The only thing that was left of them was the clothes on their backs.

It was a matter of time before Frederick’s parents decided that I was the cause of all the trouble. They assumed that the last words I said was a threat and that I have figured out a way to get into the tomb to remove the seal and cursed them, or probably I had hired someone to sabotage their business, whichever sounds logical. In a way, it was my fault, but I never meant for this to happen. I was just telling them that one way or another, they will get their just desserts. I never meant this.

They recognized my picture in one of the missing person’s notices on their notice board and immediately filed a police report against me. Soon my face was all over the newspapers, wanted as a suspect of company sabotage and possible multiple murders of the shelter home where I used to work and the school where I used to beg for food. I suspect it was the reward that betrayed their conscience. There was no longer a safe place I could hide. Everywhere was a possible dead giveaway to my identity. I had to resort to sneaking in the middle of the night to scrounge up any leftovers in restaurant kitchens and breaking into rest stops and convenient stores to steal food (busting the burglar alarm a few times in the process, but managed to escape in time).

Now I know how the guy from the movie The Fugitive felt like.

My luck ran out sooner than I expected. I don’t know how my cover was blown. Was it because my face was caught on security camera when I was in one of my midnight convenient stores burglaries? Was I spotted by someone while crossing the street? Did I forget to keep a low profile when I went to churches to look for second-hand clothes? All I know is that one day I was minding my own business trying to look for the latest newspaper in the trashcan when suddenly I was approached by a bum who claims to be an undercover cop stalking me for a few days now. I didn’t believe him at first for most of the bums I know are nutty and would claim that they’re superman or something, but when he flashed his badge (which seemed genuine enough) at me, Frederick, before I even thought it, pushed a huge trashcan at him and took my hand and both of us made a run for it.

And, after tiring efforts to outrun police cars and dodging police chases, I finally lost them and hid out here.

I can hear cars stopping, and sirens blaring. Have they found out where I am?

I have to finish whatever I need to say before they catch me.

I don’t want to go.

I don’t want to be caught.

I hear voices. Are they here?

No. Not yet. They’re still looking for me.

I don’t want to go.

My family hates me. My now ex-boyfriend thinks I’m a freak. I don’t have any real friends.

Everyone thinks I got problems.

I’m not a freak. I never wished for this power. I just wanted to be normal.

I just want them to leave me alone so that I can live the rest of my days with Frederick.

I just want to…

I hear my parents’ voice calling for me. I hear my ex-boyfriend’s voice. I hear my brothers’ voice. I hear my dog’s bark.

I hear the police, the ambulance workers, the people from the institute.

No…No…No…

I don’t want to go.

Theirs is not the life I want to live. I’m fine on my own. I’ve never harmed anybody. I never meant to.

You’re the only true friend I have, my dear journal. If anyone finds you, you will be the last thing that ever recorded the truth of my life.

I don’t want to go.

I don’t—

They’re here.

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