Okay, so, I don't know how many of you saw the comment I posted on the last entry, but I'm at Lizzie's house now and I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to be doing.
She called me the other night and told me to get over to her house right away. She sounded terrified, like someone had just broken in. She didn't even need to tell me twice, I was already in the car and on my way by the time I hung up.
I hate going to Lizzie's house in the middle of the night. Number one, it's pitch black out there, and number two, she lives pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Every time I'm there it's like I'm ten years old at my old house again, which is half the reason I never go. Nevertheless, there I was at ten o'clock at night, pounding on her door until she finally opens.
Lemme tell ya now, she has never looked worse. Her skin's almost completely white, her eyes are all bloodshot, her nose was raw from all the tissues and she looked so...helpless. That was what scared me the most. No matter how bad things always got, she was always the rock among the two of us, always looking for ways to solve any problem. To see her looking like this, like a prisoner awaiting a death sentence, scared the piss out of me.
“Lizzie, what's wrong?” I asked her.
She didn't respond. She just moved out of the way to let me in. I stepped into the house and...
I've told you before that the girl brings her work home with her. Well, this time she went overboard. All over her walls were those fucking drawings, some from Krell, some from Ford, and then...I don't know, there were some that looked new. This looked like it took weeks to put up. I had to wonder how long this had been going on for.
One drawing in particular still scares the piss out of me. It's a drawing of the Suit, only he's got eight arms again. There's a woman laying on the ground in a pool of blood with cuts all over her face like someone took a knife and went Michael Myers on her. There's another guy with his back against the wall, his hand over his gut like he's been shot. And then there's another guy- probably the only normal human still standing- pointing a gun at the creature, with a speech bubble pointing from his head that says, “I KNOW WHO YOU ARE”.
“Lizzie...what is this?” I asked her. “Are these...did you draw this?”
“Some of those are from the case,” she replied, and her voice sounded as bad as she looked. “Some of them...are mine.”
I turn back to her. She had started to cry; tears were streaking down her face, adding dirty red to an otherwise pale face.
“He's real, Zeke. He's real. And...He wants me too...”
She collapses against my chest, sobbing. I just wrap my arms around her, unsure of what to say, looking around at the craziness we had been surrounded with since day 1 of the case and which was now threatening to consume my partner.
I'm going to stay here for a little while to make sure she's safe. I'd rather be at my house, but she says it doesn't matter where she is, “He” will find her. So I'm basically going to fortify this house as best I can, in case someone does decide to show up and he's not friendly.
I know I'm usually the man of stone, but I gotta say, I'm pretty scared right now. Something's wrong with her, and I don't know what to do. All of her patterns match the victims from the case...but it doesn't make any sense.
If Conaghan's in jail...then who is doing this?