Dark City

56.

The Diaries of Savannah Mitchell

October 27, 2001

They call me Freak even more this year. I can't let it roll off my back like I used to. This year, I'm all alone.

I miss Neptune High. Jacob was always there for me. My little minion. We'd have lunch under the stairs in the courtyard and sneak strawberry cigarettes. I still taste chemical strawberry when I think about him.

Private school sucks. The drive to Red Bank sucks. Takes forever. My mom has to drop me off and pick me up like I'm eight years old. I told the normies that I'm a witch and drink blood, anything to keep them from trying to talk me.

Today in class, one of the many idiots at my school caught sight of my pentacle as I was hanging it up in my locker. He said I wasn't allowed to have stuff like that, that this was a good school and that he would tell the principal on me. As he was damning me to Hell and what would likely be a week of suspension, Mr. Prescott, the fencing coach, came up behind him. He snatched my pentacle right out of the kid's hand and said it was the symbol of the unbreakable knot, a symbol used by pagans and christians alike.

The boy was embarrassed. Everybody at school thinks Mr. Prescott is the coolest. I do too now. There were other students around us, but their movement seemed to go so still. Their voices and the sound of locker doors slamming went mute. It was mystifying.

At lunch, I was reading in the chapel. I've been going there at lunch so I don't have to talk to anyone. I had a book about the history of witchcraft full of beautiful color illustrations of wicker men and maypoles.

I heard the chapel door creak open. I shut the book and looked over the pew to see who was there. It was Mr. Prescott. He asked what I was reading. I said it was the Bible and slid it under the pew so he wouldn't see. He snatched it up from the other side and starting flipping through the pages. I couldn't believe it. He was smiling!

I asked him if he was going to tell the headmaster. He said that he could keep a secret. What happened next... I can't bring myself to write it down here.

Sam Prescott makes this hellhole almost bearable.

November 1, 2001

I wear witchcraft like a suit of armor. Fuck everyone at this dumbass school. Students. Teachers. Administrators. I hate them all. They should be afraid of me. I have invoked the devil, seen the bright angel rise off the tongues of fire at midnight. I have watched an animal bleed and die in my arms. Just wearing the pentagram is not enough. I have given my soul to Baphomet. They will tremble before Hypatia.

I miss Jacob so much. Last week I drove back to my old neighborhood to go walking with him in Ghost Woods. We split a bottle of apple vodka and planned our very first Devil's Night.

We returned to Ghost Woods the night before Halloween. Everything was perfect. Flames, firewood, a crisp autumn eve. I invoked the elements. I invoked the morning star and sang a slow hymn of black mass. We read from the book of shadows and made vows to serve Baphomet.

Jacob sacrificed a rooster, plunged a knife into its chest. The blood poured out and Jacob caught it in his fingers. He spread it on my face like war paint. I tried incantations in Latin as my sweet Jacob tended the fire.

As I knelt before the flames and placed the rooster on our altar, I felt Jacob's hands on my shoulders. We listened to the crackling flames for a long time. Then what we always knew would happen happened.

He brought his knife to my heart and cut away my buttons by the threads. This was our final offering. And the dark lord came to us. We made a vow that night. We will serve the dark one. Hypatia and Jacob. Children of Baphomet.

June 12, 2003

It's such injustice. For doing nothing. For killing no one. Jacob is going to a nuthouse. He's not allowed contact with anyone for the next few weeks. It's prison. They're locking him up in an insane asylum!

I warned him so many times that if he killed something somebody loved, they'd start looking for us. And then he takes a little girl! They're calling him a psychopath, saying he has all the makings of a serial killer, but all they see is the "victim" with her pretty blonde hair and sewn up head. They don't see him for who he really is.

Jacob took the fall for everything, the rituals, the dead animals, the carvings and graffiti on the trees. A psychopath would not have done that. He has a heart and a soul as beautiful as the stars. And now they're going to take it from him. They'll shatter him with drugs, take away all of what made him special. I don't know what I'll do without him. He's all I have. We're the only people who understand each other.

07/17/03

I couldn't believe it. Mr. Preston drove up to Rita's today and ordered a custard.

He acted all embarrassed for me that I was working there, but I just smiled and kept things friendly. If he was trying to humiliate me, I didn't care. I could easily gloat and walk away with a smug little smile on my face, knowing that he lost everything over charges of statutory rape. Not because of me, but another scholarship student he took advantage of. It's hard to shake a bad reputation, especially when you drive a sports car.

But he did say something that struck me. He said, "You shouldn't have to work. Too pretty." And he gave me an address to his new place in Asbury Park, says he's going by Liam now, trying to start clean. I think I might go over there tomorrow night and fuck his brains out for old time's sake.

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Music: Muse "citizen erased"

Ok this is my best impersonation of a teenage witch. I tried to make it poorly written without being a chore to read. X) hope it wasn't too unbearable.