Silence

I know I could have saved us
But we'd have never known this day
If this is where we had to go
Well then I'm glad we went this way

All that's left to see is
What kind of flowers we'll become
I'm sure we'll be the kind
That bring children out into the sun


I keep hearing them, but it's quiet now.
I hope they stay quiet.

I don't want to be alone.

Storms

It's been.... nice, since Tia showed up, which probably means things are going to go down the shitter on one level or another fairly soon.
But anyway, it's just calmer here with someone other than just Lis and her huge mood-swings.
At least her manicness is directed toward a productive source, though she's said that of course she could never attempt to sell any of the paintings that are currently piling up in her studio room.
Blake's cute, by the way....
I know, I know.
Creepy.
He's taken, and in his twenties.
But hey, I'm allowed to notice, just like I'm allowed to notice a few other things.


Apparently, I went missing for about thirty minutes earlier, and freaked everyone out a bit.
I remember going out to the utility room, looking out of the window of the back door, and then suddenly I was sitting in the grass in the back yard and it was raining.
I didn't have any blood on me or anything creepifying like that, and I doubt anything happened, either way.
Elisa's worried, of course.
She's back on the research thing, looking up "missing time" and such.
Tia and Blake are apparently still a bit skeptical, but Tia, at least, is humoring her.
I still think she should write up some of the things she's compiled for people to read, but she says it's just collected thoughts on different stories she's read on blogs and such, and not anything really original.
Anyway, I should go.
The thunder's really getting to me, and I'm having a little trouble typing properly.

-Marie

The hell?

Okay, tonight's been interesting so far.
I was fiddling with a few things in Lis's studio room/den, considering she's been in there a lot recently and hasn't cleaned up, when there's this crash in the living room.
As she said, someone threw a cinder block through the window, and left some kind of splotch of blood or something in the yard.
So what does Lis do?
She takes the cinder block out back, stalks to the edge of the woods and throws it as far under the trees as she can, saying a few things that I think she would rather I not repeat while she did so.
She then came outside, ran an extension cord out there, set up a CD player on a chair, and is now blasting the woods with trashy pop music.
What.
The fuck.
... What crack are you on, Elisa?
I'm really not sure what to think
She's painting again, now that she found her mom's old gun.

I know she was talking to Elaine about me.
Hi, Miss Elaine, if you're reading this.
Not many people are, which is probably for the best, anyway.
After a few discussions, I think we figured out why the whole cutting thing started up.
It's something I have control over.
Because I sure as hell don't have control over the weirdness that's been going on.
Which is interesting, probably.
Following that logic, I'm surprised that there aren't more reports of Runners with eating disorders or something.
Though, you have to be able to eat, first.
Or you have to be kind of stupid.
Which I think is the reason that makes more sense.
Though you do hear of those who turn to drugs or other addictions to take off the edge.
I know it's stupid, but even when I try not to do it, I find myself picking at the older ones when I'm not paying attention.
It does help to keep things from disappearing, though.

-Marie.

Okey-dokey, then. - Marie

I have an account now, I guess.

Apparently, with someone posting in the comments anonymously, she thinks it'd be better if she can keep track of my stuff on the blog better.

Something like that.

I'll be glad when Tia gets here, to be completely honest.

Partially because things are worse than Elisa's been letting on.

As I said before, she's been trying not to let it show how much things are getting to her.

She threw out her red paint because she said it smelled like old blood.

Admittedly, it smelled really off.

She hasn't gone to work at the thrift store since she called in the other day.

And she's not eating.

She says that she just feels sick every time she gets food in her stomach.

I'm not letting her hide when her anxiety gets the better of her, though.

She's trying to be strong, and maybe in all the wrong ways, because it's just going to eat away at her.

This is dumb.

Tia will be able to talk to her better about these things than I will, once she's done wondering if Elisa's off her rocker more than usual.

Which she could be just a bit, considering what's going on.

We've decided to stay away from may parents place right now.

It's weird, because they knew something was up with Jared, but it's been six years since he died, and there's been nothing around the house since then.

-Marie

She thinks she's protecting me, you know.
 Me and Tia and her therapist and everyone.
Protecting us by hiding how this is really effecting her in her jumbly ciphers and her trying to keep Tia away.
 She's crying again in the other room, though.
She's trying to protect us, but right now, she can't even handle herself.
Not with putting so much responsibility that nobody is aiming at her on herself.
She thinks I don't hear when she cries and is freaked out by what's going on.
I do...
And I understand, kind of.
He's coming, anyway.
He's outside again right now.
Not doing anything...
Just watching.
And waiting.
From what I remember, He...
It.
The Amazing Mr. Tentacle.
Whatever, is good at waiting. 
I think that it's almost worse than if he was doing something.
I'm scared.
Terrfied.
I hate to admit it, since I'm supposed to be all teenagery and bravado-filled, but I remember how Jared was before he disappeared.
They never found the body.
We're not going to be able to pull this off, and Lis is too much of a loon to reach out to any of the others who could help.
She's almost as scared of those being pursued as she is of those pursuing.
I'm holding her here.
Holding her back from running.
I'm already sick.
I was born sick.
I almost wish she would just leave me, but I know she's not going to.
I'm scared of what will happen if she does.
-Marie

P.S. Sorry I posted on you blog, Lis, but you left it up.
And I didn't even curse any.
Remind me to get more insulin from the parentals soon.
I know you're not going to be mad at me for posting this.
You're going to be disappointed, which is much worse.
Tonight is a night where things are happening, though.
Bad things.
Just like every other night, right?