ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ.

10/18/1980

Dear Diary,

The other morning I woke up earlier than usual, I̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶c̶h̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶a̶c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶a̶t̶t̶r̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶e̶x̶p̶e̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶l̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶n̶e̶x̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶m̶e̶.
I could feel my heart vibrating, and as soon as I was awake enough, I understood why. The radio downstairs in the kitchen was on.
That annoying song was playing.
I don't understand what's so difficult about understanding that if the radio is supposed to be off, that means it stays off.
I stomped all the way to the kitchen.
“At seven-thirty, the room is still ours,” Dean said without looking up.
I grabbed the radio.
“We only turned it on to hear the updates, not for the music,” Calvin added.
The words to Sailing were vibrating between my hands. I threw the radio out the front door, like it was a giant hand grenade. Pieces went flying as soon as it hit the ground. But that song kept playing like some stupid chant. I walked barefoot out onto the road. I picked it back up and slammed it into the ground again. More than once.
And when it finally took its last breath, I went back inside.
“Sure,” Dean muttered, watching me from the table. “Hysterical.”
I went back to my room. He can think whatever he wants. Rules are rules.
Jenny woke up hours later while I was cutting up some sheets to sew a shirt. Of course, I still have to find a sewing machine. It's ridiculous that Mrs. Miller didn't have one.
“T, I was looking for the radio so we could put on Off the Wall while we eat breakfast, but I can't find it. Dean told me to ask you when they left the kitchen.”
“It's dead,” I grumbled, crouched on the floor with the scissors in my hand.
She burst out laughing. “Sure. Where is it?”
“The radio is dead and smashed to pieces like Mr. Miller.”
Her smile faded a little. “Are you kidding? How are we supposed to listen to music now?!” she started. “And why?!”
I shook my head, trying to concentrate on the eyelet fabric spread across the floor. “It was annoying.”
“Tiffany.”
She had her arms crossed, and when she does that, it means she's getting angry. The problem was, I was getting angry too.
“They turned the radio on this morning, so I smashed it because if people can't follow the rules, then the toy gets taken away.”
“You can't take away the only entertainment we have just because you woke up in a bad mood. That's not how this works.”
“I woke up in a bad mood because of them! And the shitty songs on the radio!” I slammed the scissors onto the floor before getting up and walking out of the room.
And this week it really felt like everyone was conspiring to piss me off.
Besides everyone trying to make me feel bad about murdering the radio, which, for the record, wouldn't have happened if they'd followed the rules, Dean still had something else in store for me.
Apparently I had two choices: give them more blood samples, absolutely not, or go hunting with him.
I would've preferred another bullet in the forehead, but I chose the second one anyway.
There was a pretty big stretch of woods behind the house. We were too isolated to go looking for supplies in the nearest city and still make it back home before dark.
So we went target shooting. Except the targets were poor little creatures.
“You could've left me at home.” I stepped over the taller branches as I followed him.
“And let you cut up all the tablecloths and curtains until you'd turned everything into scraps?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “You turned my clothes into scraps.”
He shook his head. He still never looked me in the face. Not that I wanted him to.
“We have to cooperate here. We made a deal. If you won't help with the tests, you help find food.”
I rolled my eyes. But I couldn't stop a little smile when I saw him limp. He only did it once and straightened up immediately. But I saw it.
But then he aimed at a squirrel. I grabbed the barrel of the rifle. “Are you insane?!”
He shoved me. I mean, that asshole actually shoved me and fired.
I heard the poor little thing whimper. I ran over. It was covered in blood. “How can you do something like that?! You're a monster!” My face was completely wet, like someone had turned on the faucets connected to my eyes.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“It was defenseless!” I picked it up in my hands, but I could barely look at it. Its chest was rising and falling quickly, desperately trying to breathe.
“We have to eat!”
“Eat something else!” My scream echoed through the trees.
He looked almost speechless. “You smashed a man's skull to pieces. Your friend ate a woman alive. You eat people.”
“He was shooting at me!” I stood up. “That man kept shooting me in the chest! He set my car on fire!” I snapped. “The others killed my boyfriend! They threw me into tanks full of Piranhas just to see how long it took me to regenerate! Of course I wanted to see every single one of them dead!” I held my breath. I hadn't wanted to tell him those things.
I pressed my lips together, the squirrel now lifeless against my chest. “Fuck you.”
And I left. Maybe that's what everyone wanted from me this week. For me to leave them alone. Or maybe they were the ones who needed to leave me alone.
I put the little creature in a small box with some flowers and buried it in the yard. While I was digging in the dirt, I found a star-shaped pendant. It was really pretty...
My face felt swollen, and I'll never forgive myself for letting Dean see me like that. But how can anyone kill something so small?
But also... how did he manage not to eat humans?
Asshole.
I spent a lot of time alone. I finally looked around the entire house. Of course the Millers had a television in the living room but not a fucking sewing machine.
Anyway, the TV doesn't work, and the silence in this house sucks. I really wish I could've put some music on. I miss music. The only sounds in the house are coughing coming from the forbidden room, Dean whistling some unbearable song I don't know, and Calvin and Jenny talking in his room.
The piece of shit came back with two dead rabbits, anyway. Obviously I didn't eat them. He and I haven't looked at each other or spoken since... since that...
He is fixing the car, though. I can see him from my bedroom window, lying underneath it like an idiot pretending he knows what he's doing.
I finally found a needle and thread in one of Mrs. Miller's boxes. I'm making a skirt for Jennyfer. She can't keep wearing those horrible pants she stole from one of the closets in this house. We're already stuck wearing the hideous sweaters because it's getting colder. The pants too? No.
I went looking for her to take her measurements, but she was still with him.
Jenny turned to look at me.
“Yeah?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I was looking for the scissors.”
Anyway, I can tell by the way she taps her fingers on the table or the couch. She pretends everything is fine, but she's hungry.
I don't understand her. I thought we were a team.
I read what she wrote in my diary last week. Maybe loneliness is the price you pay for leaving someone behind.

Maybe next week will be better.

But the hunger is coming back. The real kind.

Tiffany