~Dessa~

Although Dessa knew that Weiss was somewhere nearby, keeping watch over her under a shroud, she felt a sliver of what she used to feel in those days after Auntie's passing, the skin-crawling sensation that the woman's ghost followed her from room to room. As Dessa made her way to her aunt's bedroom, the feeling intensified. Her guilt was exponential with every step she took past the doorway.

This is wrong. Whatever secrets her aunt had . . . Dessa knew that she wasn't entitled to them. Still, her trembling hands peeled back the rug without pause, and she lifted the loose  floorboard, almost hoping that nothing would be there, that it was just a ridiculous fabrication, rather than a true glimpse into the past.

But there it was - a worn notebook, beckoning her to retrieve it from its dusty resting place. For a long moment, she just stared down at it, willing herself to leave the truth hidden, the way Auntie had always intended for it. With her heart in her throat and a chill down her spine, she picked the notebook up and began to pace back and forth frantically, before darting out of her aunt's room as if she were about to get caught snooping, a shadow flicking outward to slam the door shut behind her.

Forcing herself to sit on the couch, her knees bounced nervously, and she attempted to take in a shaky breath in preparation. It failed to relieve any of her nerves, of course, but at least she tried. Before she even went to read, she could see that there were several gaps where pages must have been torn out. Opening it up to the first yellowed page had her nearly hyperventilating, and she had to force herself to stop imagining her aunt chastising her for invading her privacy like she was.

"It's a journal," she whispered to herself, feeling stupid.

Duh, what did I expect? Devious master plans, witchy incantations, food recipes? 

"Time to tell me your secrets, Auntie . . ."

October 10th

God, I don't know what to do anymore. Izzy and Clayton have been missing for three weeks now. I've posted her picture everywhere, but haven't gotten a single phone call. No one at the police department is taking this seriously. A deputy had the nerve to suggest they were probably on a romantic getaway! They aren't even investigating, so today I took matters into my own hands. 

I broke into their house, and I looked for some sign, something, anything that could give me a clue of what's going on. The dining table was set for the two of them, and there was an untouched roast that was stinking up the place, covered in maggots and flies. I'm no closer to understanding what happened to them, or where they could possibly be, but I know I'm not crazy. They were about to sit down to dinner, and . . .

Please, Lord, please, let them be alive, let them be safe. Izzy's all I have left. I can't lose her, too.

Dessa's stomach churned, and her heart hammered painfully behind her ribs. As long as she had known her aunt, she'd never once heard her pray or even mention God. Only fucking faeries. In that moment, reading her familiar penmanship, Dessa felt trapped within the same emotions her aunt must have been feeling back then. Desperation, anger, grief, confusion, and fear of the unknown.

Her shadows erratically rippled around her, unsure of how to respond as she read further.

October 13th

Nothing makes sense. I got a call from the sheriff today. They told me they found Izzy wandering through the street, and I rushed to the hospital where they took her. When they finally let me in to see her . . .

She wasn't hurt, not broken, not bleeding, but her eyes were glazed, and she looked right through me like I wasn't there. I sobbed like a baby, Lord, I asked her what happened over and over, but she didn't speak. She's catatonic. When I caught my breath and wiped my eyes, I saw it. Her belly was so round, and like a fool, I asked the doctors what was wrong with her stomach.

The nurse said that Izzy's pregnant, and if she had to guess, that she's about eight months along. But it can't be - I saw her three weeks ago! She was as skinny as a toothpick, like she always has been.

God, how is this possible? How could she disappear for less than a month, and come back just about ready to give birth?? And where the hell is Clayton? 

It made too much sense to Dessa how something like that could happen. Her parents were the ones from her dream, the couple that was swallowed by the Veil. That was obvious to her now. For whatever reason, that seam revealed itself to her father's mortal eyes, and he wanted to see what was on the other side. And after Dessa's most recent tangle within the cogs of the Void, she understood that if someone were to go through without their destination in mind, they would get lost. The odds were that her father made it through to Faerie, assuredly going blind and mad, before becoming prey to a hungry Fae. But her mother, possibly not yet aware that she was pregnant, was stuck in the soul cycle, tormented relentlessly by the last thought that had gone through her mind  - fear for her husband? Perhaps only his name repeating itself, echoing in the abyssal plain. 

October  17th

It's been two days since Izzy was discharged from the hospital. I've taken her home with me. I'm thankful that you've brought her back to me, Lord, but I'm struggling. My little sister is a walking vegetable. She won't eat or drink, and I'm afraid that I'll have to take her right back to the hospital. She can't live like this, and I don't know how to take care of her. Last night, I tried to ask her about Clayton. She shuddered like I threw a bucket of ice water on her, and started whimpering inconsolably until she fell asleep. I've never felt so helpless.

October 19th

Izzy passed out in the kitchen last night, I only barely caught her in time. In a panic, I called an ambulance, holding her and rocking her as she came to. When we got to the hospital, they ran their tests and determined that she was dehydrated, but the baby was fine. When the doctor said that the baby was okay, I felt terrible. I hadn't thought twice about the baby, only Izzy. I guess the baby still doesn't seem real to me. This is all like one long, terrible dream. 

October 20th

The hospital informed me that they think it would be best to transfer Izzy to a 24-hour care facility. A selfish part of me wanted to argue that she should be with family, in case she snaps out of . . . whatever has a hold on her. I wanted to tell them she needs me. I agreed with them, though, no matter how much it hurt. The truth is, I'm the one who needs her. I hate that there's nothing I can do for her. 

God, if there's anyone who deserves a miracle, it's Izzy. She's the kindest, warmest, most giving person I know. Please give her back her mind, her voice, her fire. She's no longer missing, and yet I miss her more than ever. 

November 1st

Izzy went into labor. I rushed to the care facility to be with her, and she was actually speaking. But it was the strangest thing, it didn't seem like her words. When I got to her room, she was sweating and her eyes were wild. She still seemed like she was looking through me, rather than at me when she said, "Her name will be Dessa." I started crying, it was so good to hear her voice. The more she spoke, though, the more hollow it sounded. I went to tell her that it was a beautiful name, and she said, "Fairy will take her." 

I think my heart stopped beating. I tried to argue with her, "No one will take your baby, Izzy. Why would you think that??"

She closed her eyes, holding her stomach, and gasped for air. When she opened her eyes again, they were clear, and for a second, I thought I could see the real her again. My baby sister. She looked so scared. Then, her eyes rolled back and she started seizing. Everything was a blur - I screamed for the nurses, and they ushered me out of the room. 

I can't breathe. All I can do is wait and pray. 

Tears rolled down Dessa's face, and though her aunt had never told her how her parents died, she could feel it in her bones what happened next, before her eyes met the words on the page. 

The doctor came and ripped my heart out. My sweet Izzy didn't make it. He told me she had an aneurysm. The baby lived. They let me say goodbye, asked me if I wanted to hold the baby. I didn't want to hold her. I didn't want to look at her. I just want Izzy back. I don't want to believe in such a cruel God that would take Izzy, and leave me with her baby. I will never be her mother. 

December 2nd

I can't do this. It's a frigid winter, and Dessa has a fever. She won't stop crying unless I rock her to sleep. When I have to hold her, I get so angry. I know it isn't right to hate an infant, but I do. All I see when I look down at her in my arms is my sister's pale, lifeless body. I feel like this baby sucked the life out of her, stole Izzy from me. I almost wish this fever would be the end of it all. I can hardly take care of myself, and here I am, trying to look after this child that just reminds me of everything that is wrong with this world. 

And every time I lay down to sleep, I keep hearing Izzy say, 

"Fairy will take her." 

"Fairy will take her."

"Fairy will take her."

A venomous sickness pooled inside of Dessa's chest, reading those words. Her aunt despised her from the moment she was born. Did that ever change? Did her aunt hate her until the day she died? 

February 18th

Dessa's eyes have changed. They are not my sister's eyes, they aren't Clayton's. They are amber, with shards of black. Looking into them, it feels even more so that she isn't real. She isn't Izzy's baby, she's something else. Maybe a demon. I've never seen eyes like hers. They're wrong, unsettling. 

May 7th

I had a dream last night that monsters came to take Dessa away. I don't know why, but I fought them. Many times I found myself thinking that a fairy SHOULD take her. I thought I didn't want her. But when one of their clawed hands grabbed her tiny arm, I just snapped. I guess some small part of me can't let her go, because whether it feels like it or not, in some way, she's all I have left of my sister. When I woke up, I couldn't stop thinking about it. 

Izzy had never mentioned fairies until that day, and it sounded so far from reality. Whatever happened to her when she went missing must have driven her insane. And now, I'm insane, too. I will read every book I can find that mentions fairies, because I can think of nothing else. Izzy warned me with her dying breath. There has to be something to that. If fairies do exist, I won't let them have her.

July 20th

They are all around us, we just can't see them. Sometimes I think I can feel them watching us. Watching her. I think they hunt people in the city. So many gruesome murders with no witnesses. They describe them on the news as if they've been attacked by wild animals, but wild animals in the city? I don't buy it. 

November 1st

It's Dessa's first birthday. I can hardly afford to keep us afloat, but I managed to get her a little blanket and a balloon. She smiled so big. I wanted to smile back, but I couldn't. I'm worried all the time. I'm afraid that I will blink, and she'll be gone. 

March 14th

Dessa was playing in the yard today when a stray cat whizzed by. Before I realized what was happening, she begged the cat to come back, and took off running after it. I nearly had a heart attack. I screamed at her like a lunatic, I was terrified. I grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her inside. Her big eyes were full of tears, she was so shaken up from my yelling. She's only three years old, I couldn't explain exactly why she had gotten in trouble. All I could tell her was that it isn't safe to run. She's too young to understand how dangerous fairies are, but I'll have to make her understand eventually. They are out to get her, and I have to prepare her every way I can.

February 5th

We're barely scraping by these days. A lot of the time, Dessa's only meals come from school. As much as I panic when I can't keep a close eye on her, I dread her summer break. How will I feed her? 

July 3rd

Dessa is all skin and bones. She's so weak that she couldn't get out of bed. I was at my wit's end. I am not a thief, but I was ready to walk out the door and steal something for her to eat. When I opened it, though, I couldn't believe my eyes. Nearly every inch of the front porch was lined with grocery bags full of food. On the doorstep was a wax-sealed envelope, and inside was a letter written in red ink that said, 

"The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread." - Mother Theresa

I have no idea who could have known we were in need. I'm thankful for the generosity, yet so confused. The quote in the letter echoed in my head as I spooned some chicken broth for Dessa. I know that she desperately needs love. I will protect her as long as I live, but I don't think I have it in me to love her properly. I could say the words, for her sake, but I feel like it would ring false. Izzy took my heart with her when she died, there is only responsibility and obligation left where it once was. 

Dessa swallowed a lump in her throat, her emotions floundering all over the place. Talon must have sensed that she was on the brink of death once before and intervened. How closely had he been observing her to know, not only that she was starving for sustenance, but that she was also starving for love?

There was only one more entry, and the penmanship was warbling in a strange way.

August 29th

I had another stroke this morning. I woke up on the bathroom floor to the sound of Dessa breaking the door open and sobbing, "Auntie!" She went to call an ambulance. I told her no. We can't afford the bill. I told her I'll be fine. But I can feel it. I'll be with my baby sister soon. I only hope that I've taught Dessa enough, so that the fairies won't take her. 

Be safe. Please, be safe.