Chapter Text
“May 26, 1988
I’m writing this because I don’t know what else to do.
I can’t tell anyone about Jane. Not about what she does. Not about what she’s done to me. My arms still ache from earlier, and every time I move, it reminds me why I have to stay quiet. I want to tell someone so badly, but I know what would happen if I did. I’d hurt more. Or worse.
This might be my last entry.
I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting Jane to walk in and see this book. If she finds it, then this won’t just be my last entry—it’ll be my last day with freedom. Maybe my last day at all.
If someone is reading this… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not telling anyone sooner. Please tell everyone I didn’t mean to lie. I thought about running away, but right now, I’m too scared to even try.
Goodbye.
—Michael Wheeler
P.S. I’m sorry.”
Mike read over the page one last time, his hands shaking slightly. No spelling mistakes. No crossed-out words. He gently closed the journal and shoved it under his mattress just as a voice echoed from downstairs.
“Mike!”
He jumped, his heart slamming into his ribs. After a second, he forced himself to breathe and headed down.
Will was standing in the living room, smiling like nothing was wrong.
“Hey, Mike. How’re you doing today?” Will asked.
“Good,” Mike said quickly. Too quickly. “How about you?”
Will tilted his head. “Fine, but… dude, you look like hell. You sure you’re okay?”
Mike swallowed. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.”
Will didn’t look convinced. “If you say so. Anyway, how’ve things been with you and Jane? I haven’t talked to her in a while.”
Mike felt his stomach twist.
“Oh—yeah. She’s good,” he said, forcing a smile. “Just busy. But good. Why?”
Will studied him for a second longer than Mike liked.
“No reason,” Will said slowly.
But Mike knew that wasn’t true.