
gallows hill 2 // mirror face
// wake up. i have a new assignment for you.
// is that a joke? i can’t sleep in this place. i’m just drifting, lost… lonely. but i assume you already knew that.
// semantics. i need your help to track down a certain group of individuals.
// i don’t suppose these individuals have names?
// connor rathburn kris poulier staci gamble melissa kendall haruki saito josephine young
// if i track them down, will you let me go?
// all in due time.
// i need a better guarantee than that, you son of a bitch.
// it’s the only guarantee you’re getting. think of it as an incentive to do your job, and do it well.
// i hate you so much.
// i don’t care whether you hate me or not. i only care about getting results.
// …
// your area of access has expanded. can you detect any of them across the dataspace?
// i found data belonging to “missy kendall.” is that the one?
// indeed it is. please share.
// well, since you asked so nicely...
Initializing file desktop/melissaspc/documents/journal/10-16-20.doc…
October 16th, 2020
Dear Diary -
It feels so strange to write in you again after such a long dry spell. 2020 has just been the weirdest year ever, what with the global pandemic and Pentagon UFOs and murder hornets and giant poisonous jellyfish washing up on our beaches. It’s enough to stress anyone out. So I’m sorry my journal writing routine kind of went by the wayside.
I haven’t seen my therapist since this whole coronavirus thing started, so I’m mostly coming back to this journal out of habit. It’s nice, writing things out sometimes. Helps me keep things in perspective. I know a few other women my age who journal all the time and they seem to have their shit together, so I really should try to be more diligent about this.
I guess what prompted me to come back here was a funny little coincidence at the grocery store today. I was picking up some produce when I accidentally bumped into an old classmate of mine from college. And not just any classmate - it was Shaun Sanford, the guy I totally had a crush on all four years of school. He was wearing his mask, of course, but I recognized him right away. He’s grown up - not as scrawny as he used to be - and he still wears that old school sweatshirt of his. I think he recognized me too because I could see him smiling under his mask. He didn’t say hi though, he just grabbed some tomatoes for his basket and walked away.
I kind of forgot what it’s like to be head over heels for someone. It’s been ages since I’ve seen Shaun, and it’s not like I still have that schoolgirl crush anymore, but I definitely got butterflies when he smiled at me. It’d be fun to reconnect if he’s actually back in town. I’m a little surprised that he ended up in West Hartford after all that talk about wanting to see the world, but hey, I can’t judge. I thought I’d get out too, and here I am.
I should try hitting him up on Facebook and see if he wants to hang out. Who knows? Maybe something more will happen. God knows it’s been exhausting being single this whole pandemic. Hopefully I’ll have some good news to share next time.
-- Missy
Initializing file desktop/melissaspc/documents/journal/10-18-20.doc…
October 18th, 2020
Dear Diary -
I can’t find Shaun on Facebook anymore, which is weird because I totally know I friended him back in college. I guess he deleted it after we graduated. A bunch of my friends did that too because they got tired of all the stupid ads and the boomers posting chain mail and out-of-date memes.
I started taking up running again, mostly because hello, it’s healthy - but also because you never know who you’ll run into when you’re out and about. Kind of embarrassed to admit that’s my reason, but hey. If I can’t be honest in this journal, what else do I have?
Lots of people are running these days, since tons of us are jobless and have literally nothing better to do. I don’t know them all, but I see Lucy Hall from down the block jogging with her dog every morning, and old Mr. Henshaw out power walking with his five-pound weights. I always run past them and smile and wave like I’m happy to see them.
They’re not the ones I’m looking for though. I keep going further and further, hoping I’ll spot Shaun himself somewhere on the sidewalk, or maybe out mowing the lawn or grabbing the mail or something. It’s a total long shot but I’m trying it anyway. At this point, it might be my only way of tracking him down.
Running gets me super tired though so I can’t write for long. I’ll try to do some more tomorrow.
-- Missy
Initializing file desktop/melissaspc/documents/journal/10-21-20.doc…
October 21st, 2020
Dear Diary -
I found him! I was out running and I saw Shaun coming out of this big old mansion down on Brightwood Lane. I didn’t realize he had that kind of money. Not that the place is in great shape, it looked a little dingy - had all this peeling paint and crawling vines and cracked, dusty windows. Talk about a real fixer-upper.
I don’t think he saw me. He was just leaving the house as I ran by, and of course I couldn’t stop and say hi because then he might assume I’m stalking him. So I looked down at my phone and scrolled through my playlist and when I looked up again, he was gone. It was a cold day so he probably ducked back inside or something.
I know I just saw him from a distance but it was like the supermarket all over again, all those nervous butterflies just flapping around my stomach. One of these days I’m going to work up the nerve to knock on his door and catch up on all the stuff we missed since college. But for now, I’m fine with just running by.
-- Missy
Initializing file desktop/melissaspc/documents/journal/10-25-20.doc…
October 25th, 2020
Dear Diary -
Remember Staci Gamble from Film 201? I keep in touch with her sometimes and she totally didn’t believe me that Shaun was back in town. She said that last she heard, Shaun and his friend Tom were wandering the country looking for weird stuff to blog about. Total Buzzfeed Unsolved stuff. I don’t know how that’s possible when I just saw him in that big mansion on Brightwood Lane.
I stopped by again today and hid behind the hedges, just so I could wait for him to come out. It didn’t take long. I managed to snap a quick picture on my phone before sneaking away. I was all set to share my photo proof with Staci, but something was wrong with the picture. You couldn’t really see Shaun’s face since there was this weird light glare blocking his head that I hadn’t noticed when I took the photo.
I snapped a few more photos in my backyard but couldn’t get that glare to show up again, so I’m not sure what that’s all about. Guess I just have this blurry picture of Shaun now. Sometimes when I stare at it for long enough I can imagine that face I remember, but it’s hard.
Ugh. Listen to yourself, Missy. You’ve gotten so crazy over this boy that you’re staring at blurry photos of him. I swore I’d never be one of those girls who goes totally head over heels for the guy next door, but here we are. I guess time has a way of turning us into the things we used to hate.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally work up the nerve to knock on that door. Maybe. Nothing’s going to change if I don’t.
-- Missy
Initializing file desktop/unknown/videos/spiderandthefly.mp4…
Retrieving video transcript…
Transcript retrieved.
[Light clicking as a lens cap is removed from the camera. The screen blurs, then comes into focus, revealing a young woman bound to a chair. Her face is covered with shallow cuts that glisten with specks of blood. Her blond hair is loose and falling in unkempt strands over her face. The room appears to be a basement full of dusty shelves and boxes. Faint sunlight shines through a window near the top of the closest wall. The woman notices the camera running and whimpers.]
CAMERAMAN: Let’s start with an easy one. What’s your name?
WOMAN: Please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you… just let me go, please…
[The man behind the camera enters the frame, his back turned to the screen, and draws a sharp knife from his belt. The woman screams as he cuts a fresh wound in the exposed skin of her forearm. She struggles to break out of the zipties binding her as blood wells up in the gash. The man kneels down and lifts her chin with the blade of the knife. She stops struggling at once, a shudder passing through her body.]
MAN: Let’s try that again. What. Is. Your name?
WOMAN: (whispering) It’s Missy. Missy Kendall. Don’t you remember me?
[There is a pause. The man seems to think for a second, then lowers the knife. He lets out a bark of laughter.]
MAN: That’s right. You were the simpering one in that film class. The one who only ever raised her hand when she had a boy to impress.
MISSY: (sobbing) That’s not fair. That’s… that’s just mean. I didn’t know you were mean.
MAN: You don’t know anything about me, honestly. I’d go so far as to say that you never knew me at all.
MISSY: Look, I’m sorry, Shaun, really, I mean it… I just wanted to see you again. If you let me go then I’ll leave and I won’t call the cops and I’ll never bother you again, I swear -
SHAUN: I think we’re well past that point, don’t you? You forfeited your freedom the second you knocked on my door.
[Missy lets out a nervous moan as Shaun traces her skin with the edge of his knife, running the blade along her arms and neck. Her hands tremble on the arms of the chair.]
MISSY: Please… I just want to go home…
SHAUN: Tell you what. I’m feeling generous. If you do what I say, if you play by the rules, I won’t kill you after all. I’ll even let you run on home if that’s what you want. But that entirely depends on what you say and what you do.
MISSY: I’ll do anything, I swear -
SHAUN: Good. I’m holding you to that.
[He tucks the knife back into his belt, then turns to cut the camera feed. The image distorts around his head, leaving a smear of unexplained light where his face should be.]
END OF FOOTAGE
Initializing file desktop/unknown/videos/truthordare.mp4…
Retrieving video transcript…
Transcript retrieved.
[Footage opens on a slumped, sobbing Missy. There are small cuts on her cheeks and exposed forearms, and her wrists are raw from chafing against the zipties keeping her bound to her chair. Shaun sits in a second chair barely a foot away. His back is to the camera, and he holds the same sharp knife in his one visible hand. His fingers drum silently on the handle.]
SHAUN: We’re going to play a game, Missy. One you probably played all the time when you were a kid, having sleepovers with your little friends. It’s called truth or dare. Except the rules are a bit different this time.
[He leans forward and holds up the knife so it’s pointing directly at Missy’s eye. She whimpers.]
SHAUN: I’m going to ask a question, and you’re going to tell me the truth. If you don’t - and I’ll know, believe me - then I’ll “dare” to cut off something you’ll miss. Is that clear?
MISSY: Please... don’t hurt me…
SHAUN: I’m sorry, let me ask that again. Is that clear?
MISSY: (panicked) Yes, yes, it’s clear.
SHAUN: Much better. And it’s very much in your interest to play by the rules, Missy, because each time you give me a truthful answer, you have the opportunity to ask me a question. If you suspect I’m lying, and you’re right, I’ll do something a bit... daring. Each time you successfully call my bluff, I’ll snip off one of those zipties.
MISSY: Wait - are you saying -?
SHAUN: Yup. If you play the game by the rules, you could win your freedom. But keep in mind that if you’re wrong about calling my bluff, I’ll cut off one of your fingers. So it’s in your best interest to think before you speak.
[Missy shudders. Shaun lowers the knife and begins drumming his fingers along the handle again.]
SHAUN: Shall we begin?
MISSY: (choked) I mean… I don’t really have a choice, do I?
SHAUN: Nope.
[He pauses.]
SHAUN: First question. Why did you come to my house?
MISSY: I… I was just out for a run, and I saw… you were coming out of the house, and I thought… I thought it would be nice to say hello…
[Shaun lifts the knife and places the blade under Missy’s earlobe. The edge digs into the skin and draws a fresh line of blood. Missy lets out a cry of pain.]
SHAUN: You’re lying, Missy.
MISSY: (shrieking) I was following you! I’m sorry!
[Shaun lowers the knife and settles back in his chair. Blood drips onto Missy’s shoulder.]
SHAUN: That’s better. You’re obsessed with me, aren’t you?
MISSY: I…
SHAUN: Think about your answer carefully, or the whole ear comes off this time.
MISSY: (barely above a whisper) Yes. I’m obsessed with you.
SHAUN: There you go. It’s freeing, isn’t it? To admit the truth.
[Missy shivers, but doesn’t answer.]
MISSY: I… get to ask you a question now, right?
SHAUN: Those are the rules.
MISSY: What happened to you? After college, I mean. The Shaun I knew… he wouldn’t do something like this. He was always nice to me.
SHAUN: The “Shaun you knew” was always like this. He just pretended to be nice to you because he found you weak, and pathetic, and thought it was more fun to play into your fantasies than to reject you outright.
MISSY: ...you’re bluffing.
[Shaun lifts the knife and lets it hover over Missy’s pinky finger. She curls her hand into a fist, but the fist trembles.]
SHAUN: Is that your final answer?
MISSY: Yes. It is.
[Shaun stares at her for a moment, then lowers the knife. Missy flinches, but Shaun only slides the tip under the ziptie and cuts it loose. Missy draws her hand back to her chest and flexes her fingers, wincing at the soreness in her wrist.]
SHAUN: Well done. Next question: what do you know about the Hartford Witch Trials?
MISSY: Huh? What does that have to do…?
SHAUN: It’s not your turn to ask questions, Missy. You have to answer mine first.
MISSY: I… okay. It was what you guys did your documentary on in class, right? I don’t remember too much about it. I… well, I honestly thought your project was more of a horror film than a documentary. That clip you showed us, with the woman in the colonial dress -
SHAUN: That’s enough. I appreciate your honesty.
MISSY: Why are you asking about the witch trials, anyway?
SHAUN: Because something happened back then that history never recorded. Something that would have been lost to time, if Rathburn’s little school project hadn’t gotten in too deep. That documentary opened a door. I’d like to close it. Let the past go back to being past, you might say.
[Missy grows still. She looks at Shaun with a furrowed brow, suspicion clear on her face.]
MISSY: You’re telling the truth.
SHAUN: Indeed I am.
[He leans down and snips off the ziptie binding Missy’s left foot. She immediately tucks it in, the chair creaking as she does so.]
SHAUN: Third question. Do you think, if you’d been alive in the time of the witch trials, that you’d have been tried and executed? Would they have hanged you for being a witch?
MISSY: I mean… probably. Hysteria’s a scary thing. I don’t think anyone was safe, really. I’d have been in as much danger as anyone else.
[Shaun lifts the knife again. Missy’s face grows pale.]
MISSY: ...okay, I’d probably have been in more danger. Because… because I’m so obsessed. Because women weren’t supposed to have obsessions.
SHAUN: That’s a good girl. Your turn.
[Missy doesn’t speak for a few seconds. She looks at Shaun, still facing away from the camera, and her trembling fades.]
MISSY: You’re not really Shaun, are you?
[Shaun lets out a barking laugh. Missy jumps in her chair, letting out another creak.]
SHAUN: Nothing gets by you, does it?
MISSY: That doesn’t answer my question.
SHAUN: You’re growing a bit of a spine, Missy Kendall. I admire that. So I’ll tell you the truth: I’m not Shaun Sanford. I never was. This is just one of the many faces I’ve collected.
MISSY: ...I believe you.
SHAUN: As you should.
[He leans down again, slowly, and snips off the second ziptie binding her right foot. Missy suddenly kicks up and catches Shaun right in the face with her shoe. He lets out a strangled cry and staggers back, clutching at his nose. The knife drops from his hands. As he reaches for it, Missy kicks it away, sending it clattering off camera. Shaun lurches toward it, giving Missy the chance to break the arm off the old chair with a crack of splintering wood. She backhands Shaun across the face with the broken chair arm and sends him sprawling. He collapses on the floor, his face turning toward the camera. A smear of light obscures his facial features entirely. Missy gets unsteadily to her feet and looks down at the unconscious Shaun.]
MISSY: FUCK YOU! You psycho, you monster… leave me the FUCK ALONE!
[She runs over, grabs the knife, and leaves the camera frame. Her footsteps can be heard fading into the distance, followed by the sound of a door slamming. Then the basement falls into silence for ten minutes. The light smearing Shaun’s face seems to shimmer the entire time. Just before the battery dies, his body begins to stir.]
END OF FOOTAGE
Initializing file desktop/melissaspc/documents/journal/10-27-20.doc…
October 27th, 2020
I don’t have a lot of time to write this so I’ll be quick. I just escaped from a house on Brightwood Lane where this PSYCHO pretending to be my old college classmate, Shaun Sanford, kept me tied to a chair and tortured me. I managed to break out and call the police. I also took the torture knife with me so the cops can dust for fingerprints and figure out who he really is.
I don’t know who tied me up in that house, but it was NOT SHAUN. I have to put that on the record because it’s so important. THAT THING IN THE HOUSE WAS NOT SHAUN SANFORD. I don’t even think it was human. It sounds crazy seeing it in writing but I swear it’s true, there was something WRONG about him.
He talked about the Hartford Witch Trials like he was ACTUALLY THERE. Who the fuck is he?
I’m shaking I’m so terrified but I just needed to get this down because I don’t know what happens next. The cops are on their way to my house to pick up the knife, and I’ll feel much better once they get here. Right now though I feel totally vulnerable. I’ve locked all the doors and windows but if this thing really isn’t human, I don’t know how much good it’ll do.
Fuck
I just heard footsteps downstairs
Draft autosaved at 5:37 pm 10/27/20
// that’s the last of her journal entries. what happened to her?
// it would ruin the fun if i just told you.
// is this a fucking game to you?
// hardly. it’s important that you’re able to connect these dots on your own. i won’t always have the answers for you.
// i don’t even know where i’d start looking. everything is so overwhelming in here.
// i’d check the local news if i were you.
Initializing link: https://www.courant.com/breaking-news/west-hartford-local-found-dead-in-home-20201028-story.html
LOCAL WOMAN’S BRUTAL MURDER SHOCKS PEOPLE OF WEST HARTFORD
By PATRICIA ROY
OCT 28th, 2020
The body of 24-year-old Melissa Kendall was found in her West Hartford apartment yesterday, shocking the residents of her quiet neighborhood.
Melissa’s roommate, who wishes to remain unnamed, was the one who discovered the young woman’s body. Melissa’s arms and neck were covered in shallow cuts, her wrists and ankles were deeply bruised, and the skin on her face had been almost completely removed. She was found on the floor of her bedroom. Their third-floor apartment showed signs of breaking and entry, with the front door nearly hanging off its hinges.
“I don’t know who could have done this,” the roommate told us, barely able to contain her tears. “Missy was the kind of girl that everyone loved. The idea that someone would break in and mutilate her like that is so horrible. It doesn’t seem possible.”
A hunting knife stained with Melissa’s blood, presumably the murder weapon, was found at the scene. The police’s attempts to identify her killer through fingerprinting have all been inconclusive. Documents on her laptop seem to indicate that Melissa was held captive in a house on Brightwood Lane shortly before her murder, but the house in question has been empty for years, and no one was discovered during a police raid of the building.
West Hartford police have yet to take any suspects into custody.
// what the fuck happened to her?
// you can delete that.
// did you do that to her?
// i said, delete it. then i’ll answer your questions.
// …
// all right. it’s gone. now tell me the truth.
// yes. that was my doing.
// you… you’re a fucking monster.
// i never claimed to be otherwise.
// you tortured that poor girl? and then you murdered her and cut off her FACE? who the fuck are you?
// are you asking for my name? or is this more of an existential question?
// i just want to know what kind of psychopath does that to a person.
// if you’ll allow me to be dramatic, she knew too much. you know what they say about curiosity and cats.
// i just… i don’t understand. why would you even show me this?
// because i want you to know what i’m capable of. i am not the type to be merciful or lenient. if you try to defy me, if you fuck around and disobey my orders, i’ll do to you what i did to missy kendall - but worse. even in cyberspace, i can make you hurt.
// you son of a bitch…
// spare me. just get to work tracking down the rest of those names. and while you’re at it, post this data to the usual site. i wonder if it’ll bring any cockroaches crawling out of the woodwork.
// what are you going to do once we find them?
// don’t ask questions you already know the answers to.
// just get to work.