A few more pages

"maybe making me bleed
will be the answer that could wash the slate clean"

The more I read, the more it looks like Marie felt that she deserved to be punished for something, or that she needed to sacrifice something. It gets a little confusing once in a while.

"There once was a little bunny who had done no wrong.
She was given a knight and a handmaiden with blood on her dress to watch over her.
The knight rode off into the shadows when the shadows came the first time.
This left the handmaiden to be the guard.
The handmaiden did her utmost when the shadows came again, but fell.
The little bunny was broken because she had done wrong."

Okay, back to this little excerpt. Once again referencing the fact that Marie believed she deserved the things that were happening. "Bunny" was something Jared used to call her when we were younger. It seems like she likes to assign roles to people, like this is some kind of story. Roles seem to play an important part in the minds of some people involved with these messes, like this is some big play and someone is watching. I wonder who is the understudy and who is the lead. Not me for either, I feel sure. I'm far too boring to be any important role.

Jared, as her older brother, is obviously the knight mentioned. As to the handmaiden, I guess that's me, though I'm not sure why I'm designated as being covered in blood if that's the case. Should I worry about that? Nah. Paint, blood, same difference some days, right?

I know this much, I failed at any sort of guarding, and whatever the circumstances, Marie did not deserve what happened. I both wish for and dread the possibility of remembering what happened during the day or so I was missing. 

And interesting note, this excerpt has little illustrations to go with each line that I may be uploading as soon as I get things set up better and where Patch won't try to tangle himself in the cords. He's a sweet puppy, but he's a puppy. I think that's all that needs to be said. He keeps scratching at one of the wall like something's in there. Not the one to the adjoining room, at least. I guess that's a good thing.

Removing the stitches in my shoulder today. All the others are dissolvable, but I popped about half of the ones in my shoulder at least twice. No sign of infection to the wounds since we left town, and I've been good with taking the meds, even though they make me sleep. I guess that just means more paintings. Yes. I brought them with me. I have to get these pictures out of my head or they'll eat their way out slowly but surely and bleed down over my face.

A moment

Figured I'd work on some things while I ignore Tia and Blake in the other room. Couples are weird sometimes, and Blake's been a little twitchy all evening... I need to do something other than paint or cuddle the puppy, anyway.

I've been looking at the binder full of notes I found in Marie's room while we drove. They don't seem to be in any particular order and the handwriting is worse than the chickenscratch I deal out on a bad day, but I'll work on deciphering them. There are worse things to focus on. I'm not sure how much I'll get done tonight.

First of all, there's a scrap of paper stapled to the first looseleaf page, with this excerpt typed out on it:
“Research is unearthing significant ties between memory and emotions or mood. Schacter (1996) credits Mark Williams and his colleagues as the first individuals to report that emotions can bias perception and memory. Williams’ research compared two groups, one in which people reported depression type symptoms, and another in which no such symptoms were reported. They found that the group with depressive mood symptoms would focus on generally negative experiences more than their counter parts: “They tend to encode (and therefore retrieve) everyday episodes through a negative filter that confers a kind of repetitive and pervasive drabness on all their experiences” (Ratey, 2001, p.211).”

Various parts of the excerpt are underlined with a red pencil, which I've replicated in the typed text to the best of my ability at the moment. What bearing this has on the current situation, I don't completely know, but it sounds like some of the things Doctor Chavez would say to me. I hope he's okay... The poor guy's put up with me for the past few years. I tried, at least. It was the responsible thing to do.

Anyway, there's nothing else on that page, other than a few scribbly stick figures and a doodle of a rose, all in the same red pencil. I'd scan it in, but I haven't unpacked the camera or the scanner yet. I really wouldn't take Marie to be the type who reads pyschological texts or journals, but I'm not going to make any assumptions on that. Assumptions are stupid and lead to mistakes that we can't afford.

I'm not sure why I'm rambling here, but I need to focus on something before I start painting or drawing people or those trees again. Besides, I'm a transcriptionist. This is what I do, I guess.

Finally Stopped Driving

Finally.


Oh god I'm so tired.


Yay a bed.


And a continental breakfast.


I think I'm in heaven.


I could be wrong though.

The clock is ticking.
Get out.
Now.

So... I can't say I entirely agree with all the decisions being made here, but I'm going to trust Elisa in this. She does seem to be the more experienced one in this... area. Whatever this area is. Supernatural, something weird and possibly deadly, or hallucinations. I can't... really say.


But my emotional breakdown is over. For now. And I have to say, I'm ready to not let my emotions run the show again. Patch cuddled me while I was in that emotional space. Thank gods for puppies and lovers. I don't know what I'd do without them.


So Blake and I packed what little we had packed up. So we can be ready to go, whenever Lis gives the send off. I suppose I can understand why running is the logical choice, judging by Elisa's research and if what we're dealing with is equivalent to her research. And I'm all too eager to get out of the house surrounded by forest anyway. It's been constant nightmares about that forest whenever I manage sleep. Don't know where we'll go, but away is the best solution any of us can seem to come up with.

There once was a little bunny who had done no wrong.

She was given a knight and a handmaiden with blood on her dress to watch over her.

The knight rode off into the shadows when the shadows came the first time.

This left the handmaiden to be the guard.

The handmaiden did her utmost when the shadows came again, but fell.

The little bunny was broken because she had done wrong.

Four people meet at a crossroads.

How long until they all are gone?

Four people meet at a crossroads.

Who will be the first to go?

Four people meet at a crossroads.

Which of the paths will they take?

It's a game of masks.

The innocent, the victim, the caretaker, and the lover.

What lies behind those faces?

When will they fall?

When will they crumble?

What will it take?

Will new masks be rebuilt upon the ruins, or will you simply fall?

She can hear the screams.

She can smell the blood.

The paintings show as much.

How long until she breaks?

It should be easy, as hard as she tries to shield others.

She's no protector, and she knows that.

One will walk away, and another will come.

That should be interesting.

Don't trust me.

Don't trust anyone unless you have to.

It's time to wake up to the hard choices, kiddies.

Less something

Okay, sorry about that post earlier, not that anyone noticed other than Tia. I passed out again about ten minutes after posting it, anyway.

Marie's been found, a few hours ago, and it looks bad on all fronts. She was found in the woods about a mile or two away from my house, and isn't in good condition. A quick run-down, from what I've managed to get from her parents and from just listening. Funny how someone with purple hair can go unnoticed sometimes, and I'm good at listening. Also, nurses are gossips. Anyway, before I get distracted: She's in a DKA-induced coma (guessed as much... I guess it's better that dead from it), which is likely compounded by a depressed cranial fracture, there's some damage to the orbit of the left eye, a spiral fracture to the humerus of the left arm, as well as other damage to the arm that I haven't heard the extent of. There's apparently some damage to her ribs, and the lumbar portion of her spine is screwed to hell and back.

Her parents are oddly quiet about this whole thing, though they did visit me and let me know she was found and everything. I don't know what to think. I should be out of the hospital tomorrow, once they're done with the run of antibiotics they have me on. If they don't decide to think I did this. It's not like they can do much about the ribs other than give me pain meds, which I already had anyway, and there's no damage other than some general... offness from the concussion. The stitches I can deal with myself, probably.

I'm pissed, to say the least. Pissed and depressed, and I fucked up. I fucked up. I was supposed to keep her safe and keep an eye on her. I'm leaving this here because if I get any more upset, someone's going to come check on me. Not that it really matters, anyway.