With the drawing of the diary in hand, Amya and Remi ascended the stairs to the attic. Rem had disappeared after the altercation with the monster in the garden. The experience had wounded him; he had become quiet and distant while they talked, then he vanished.
That had been two days ago. It was how long it took to convince Remi to go back to the attic with her. The glass of water behind her door had seemed to do the trick, and Remi didn't want to do anything to test it.
Amya, on the other hand, was not so lucky. The last two nights were just nightmares, no more waking in the garden, or dreaming of a fake Rem, but the nightmares only seemed to be getting worse.
They were grotesque, and frightening, with creatures that were deformed, missing body parts, flesh torn away exposing muscle, tendon, and bone. They crept just outside the tree line, watching, hunting, waiting for her to be vulnerable enough for them to take. She'd wake covered in sweat and matted hair.
Rem was gone, Remi refused to acknowledge the situation and her parents would never understand. Amya had no one. Dreams like those left a mark, a scar on your soul, one was never really the same. They were wearing down Amya's strength. With her only outlet missing, Amya began to study the drawings obsessively, sitting cross-legged on the floor, feet from the wall, looking for clues to the mystery surrounding Rem's mental decline and death.
Worse, Amya began to draw herself. Images from dreams that were burned behind her eyelids. She wasn't as good an artist as Rem, but the scribbles started to fit in the empty spaces of Rem's drawings. It terrified her. Was she just going crazy? Amya hadn't liked this place from the beginning; this could be a manifestation of her loathing. A reason to hate the house. If Rem wasn't really there, Remi wasn't experiencing the nightmares, and her parents never saw anything, was it possible that Amya created this herself. With those thoughts in her head, she begged Remi until she agreed to go to the attic with her.
The stairs gave an unusually loud creak as they climbed slowly.
"I hate this place. It smells like mold and rot." Remi complained.
Amya agreed, but she was on a mission and the sounds and smells of the old attic wouldn't stop her.
"We just need to find the diary. It's probably further back than we have gone yet." Amya urged.
"I regret agreeing to come up here with you. I don't know what possessed me to do it." Remi complained as she made the top step. "You're a pain in my rear, Amya."
"Just indulge me, would you. As soon as we find the diary, I'll get out of your hair." Amya urged.
Remi sighed, "I'm really hanging on to the idea that this was all a bad dream. It's keeping me sane. I need my sanity."
Amya ignored the comment and sidestepped around Remi. She only had Remi here because their parents wouldn't allow her in here without her. Amya would rather not involve her if the entity wasn't making a move on her.
The light gave an eerie, dim glow, keeping most of the attic in shadow. Amya didn't like the shadows anymore. They came alive in this house, writhing and smelling of decay. Or had she imagined that and brought Remi along for the terrifying ride. The diary was the key. If it even existed.
Amya took to the far end of the attic. If they had to look, it may as well be from one end to the other. Boxes and crates lined the walls, old furniture bunched together made isles, Amya grabbed box after box, checked drawers, looked for secret hiding places.
Remi refused to venture that far into the room, she started at the boxes near the stairs, ready to make a break if something happened. Amya couldn't blame her. Since the incident in the garden, she had been jumpy, glancing around corners, waiting for something else to happen.
The fact that it hadn't was making her uncomfortable. She didn't have the luxury of being scared and avoiding the back of the attic. Either she finds the diary and discovers the answer or just admit she was going crazy.
It didn't seem like that far of a leap at the moment. Her diligence paid off. In an old chest of drawers, third drawer down was a false bottom. Amya could feel the thin piece of wood give just slightly, so she pushed, there was a click, and the wood lifted. Underneath was the old leather diary.
"Remi, I think I found it." She shouted.
Amya carefully raised the book out of the drawer; it matched the drawing Rem had done. Excitement coursed through her as she opened the cover, Remi stepping beside her while she turned the pages.
"It matches, Remi, we found it!"
She turned to Remi and came face-to-face with her death.
