Good morning Journal. I'm about to leave for Tara's.

I'm debating whether I should leave the notebook here or bring it with me. If I leave it and I come back to see writing, it's an intruder. If I bring it and show Tara, perhaps she'll admit to being the culprit.

Also, I realized I never finished writing down how I escaped.

I don't understand why or how, but I had a very bad feeling in that dark room with the portrait. Nothing made sense there. Especially the windows shutting on their own, or my involuntary act of falling to my knees.

I ran towards the door after the windows shut. To my relief, the door opened. I closed it softly and snuck out. Honestly, I can't remember how, but I made it out without being caught.

For all these reasons, I think there's at least a 50% chance of Tara being the writer.

I was going to bring you, Journal, but now I'm not so sure. What if she takes you and reads every single sentence I've written about her?! I don't know what to do!

But wait. If she is the writer, that means she probably already read some of what I wrote.

And if she's not...

I'm sorry, but I think I'll have to leave you here. Let's hope it's her and not an intruder...

>>>Intruder, if you do exist, kindly leave? I'm the only one paying the rent here. It's not very gentle-man-like (or ladylike) to enter someone's house without their permission. Thank you.

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Dær øwńêr óf thīś jõürńåł,

I do not need permission from you or anyone. Do you not know who I am? Oh, right. You still haven't a clue, do you? Well, it is definitely amusing to see you so paranoid. You are always looking left and right when you come in.

You may not know who I am, but I know who you are. Kenny.