Written by Andrew Clement
May 9, 2024:
Dear Diary,
I don’t know how to start this. My therapist told me to write in a diary to help express myself since Grace’s death. I think I’m supposed to talk about how I feel? I’m fine I guess. The funeral is tomorrow, and Mom keeps nagging me about what pants I’m gonna wear. I want to go with the navy blue ones, but Mom said I can’t wear that color to my sister’s funeral.
May 11, 2024:
Dear Diary,
My therapist looked at my diary, and said I have to talk about Grace. It’s been a hard time since Grace died in that crash—it feels like my fault since I was the one driving. Her room just feels so empty now. Anyway, I must have pulled something since the funeral because it feels like something is tugging on both my shoulders and my shoulder blades hurt. I’m planning on asking Mom tomorrow to see a doctor, but hopefully it’s nothing, Mom and Dad don’t need anything else to worry about.
May 14, 2024:
Dear Diary,
The doctor visit was fine and the doctor gave me some muscle relaxers, but the pain has gotten worse since I have written. I swear something is on my back, but the doctor said there was nothing wrong and that it was probably just my muscles tired from anxiety. I think he’s wrong. It feels like something is hanging from my shoulders, but I can’t see or touch it. I’m gonna go to bed pretty soon because the muscle relaxers the doctor gave me will knock me out.
May 15, 2024:
Dear Diary,
That doctor must have lied about those muscle relaxers because the pain is still getting worse. I know it’s not the medicine, something is on my back, and I can’t rest with it on me. It moves around the things I put on my back. It whispers things that I don’t wanna hear. I can’t take it with this thing on me. I’m going to take matters into my own hands soon if it doesn’t get off. Even as I write this, the pain grows and so do the whispers. I just want peace.
May 19, 2024:
Dear Diary,
I’ve been trying for so long to get this thing off of me. I’ve tried hitting it, but it just moves too quickly. I want it gone so bad, but when I ask anyone if they see anything, they tell me they see nothing. I try to look in the mirror but nothing helps. Now it feels like I’m carrying a bus on my shoulders and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to get better. The whispers were so low then, but now, I can tell a little bit of what they say. They say things about how my life is nothing and they make fun of how I live my life.
May 22, 2024:
Dear Diary,
The whispers have quieted down recently, but the weight is still heavy on my back, and it feels like something is stabbing at my shoulder blades. Jake’s end of the school year swim party is tonight, so I’m gonna try and be there for him. More importantly, I’m going to see if I can drown this thing and get it off my back.
Peyton left his diary, and changed to go to the party. When he arrived, he was the first there. Peyton thanked Jake for the invite, and Jake replied “No problem, if you want you can head to the pool. I’m still setting up all the speakers so it might take me a while”.
Peyton opened the door and stared at the pool. He remembers his plan. He steps into the pool. Once in the shallow part of the pool, he leans his back into the water. Peyton, thinking he succeeded in his plan, smiles as he floats above the water. A few seconds pass, and the pain goes away. Peyton goes to stand up to see what the thing was but is pulled down deep into the pool. Trying to make sense of it all, he tries to swim upward but is pulled downward again, almost as if he’s in a rip current. He tries to hold his breath, but nothing lasts forever. With his last breath, he looks down to see what’s pulling him. He sees his little sister pulling him down. Grace, covered in blood and still in her dress, disfigured, with a big smile, pulls Peyton down for the last time leaving him to drown in this dark and cold place, as he did to her.