Diary Entry June 13, 1926
It’s happened again!
Just like Azra said it would.
And the person they took was Jonquil!
I found her dress hanging in the oak not more than an hour ago. We’re all about to search the island for her, but already I fear she has suffered the same fate as Katrina.
I still can’t believe this is happening, even though I knew it would. Not only had Azra said so, but before I discovered Jonquil’s dress in the tree, I had another nightmare that ended up being worse than the previous one.
At first, details were hazy. I knew the nightmare was bad because I woke up screaming a word I didn’t quite catch.
By the time I was conscious, the sound of it had already faded into the stuffy air of the cottage.
I sat up, straining to make out what it was, but all I heard was the pounding of my own heart.
The fact that I’d had a nightmare at all told me something bad had happened. And as I crept out of bed and out of the cottage, the contents of the bad dream came back to me in flickering glimpses. It was exactly like that moving picture Daddy took me to on my birthday, only far more terrifying.
I remembered waking up in the middle of the night, hearing something outside, going to the window to see who it was even though I already knew it was Azra. Sure enough, I saw their black cloak and smooth, floating movements.
Seconds later, I was also outside, following Azra into the woods despite being so afraid I could hardly walk. Like before, I lost sight of them in the trees, spinning around in the forest until I spotted them again.
Then I was at the clearing, stepping fearfully onto the red circle of moss.
I had expected to find Azra there. Instead, I saw only Jonquil, which was a surprise considering how she had previously refused to set foot inside the clearing.
But there she was, sitting on that great slab of rock, looking absolutely frightened.
“Don’t come any closer,” she warned, her tone a second surprise.
She was, I realized, afraid of me.
“We must get away from here,” I told her. “It’s not safe.”
Jonquil shook her head and said, “Not with you. I know what you’ve done.”
I wanted to ask her what she meant by that because I hadn’t done anything. Before I got the chance, the dark figure of Azra rose up from behind the rock and stood looming over Jonquil. In their hand was the same blade they held when Katrina was in my nightmare.
In that instance, I had awakened from the dream before I could see how the knife was used. This time, I wasn’t as lucky. I remained trapped in the nightmare’s grip as Azra slid the blade across Jonquil’s throat.
Horrified, I closed my eyes, blocking out the vision of her murder. But the sound! It was a nightmare all its own. I shall never forget that slick gurgle of blood or its soft trickle onto the rock. Even worse was the sound of Jonquil’s lifeless body falling over. A loud, wet slap.
Thinking the sight of it all couldn’t be worse than the sound, I dared to open my eyes. Because I couldn’t bring myself to look at Jonquil’s corpse, I focused on Azra, who pulled down the hood of their cloak, revealing their face.
That’s when I woke up screaming a word I couldn’t quite catch, went outside to see Jonquil’s dress in the tree, yelled to the only other two people who remained on the island, and organized a search.
But now my memory is returning. The word I shouted as I woke is coming to me. I feel it nudging into my brain like a forgotten shame forcing itself to be noticed.
It’s here now.
The word as crystal clear as when I’d yelled it.
But it can’t be!
Can it?
Could my mind be so cruel as to play such a trick on me? I think not. Which means it’s true. Dear God, it must be. And the word I’d screamed upon seeing Azra’s face was this:
“Daddy.”