text: *We simply weren’t meant to be.* *I know, I struggled with this more than you. I couldn’t accept what it meant, not only for our future, but for theirs. They had no voice in the matter. What we did not only killed us - it just as surely doomed them.* *-* *13 October 2016* *You know I’m sorry. Of course you do. You know me. I’m a good man, or, at least, I was. I’m not quite certain of what I am now. It’s hard to think without you here. With you gone, all I hear is* him*. Talking, talking, talking... he likes to talk, that one. Never shuts up. And he knows I hate it. It drives me insane. I manage, though, I truly do. You would be proud, if you were here.* *-* *22 October 2016* *It’s cold now. The windows have all iced over. It’s difficult to think, what with all his noise, and the cold doesn’t make it any easier. I’m slower when its cold. It’s like I’ve become more reptile than human. I feel so drained, so tired. And yet, I don’t sleep. How can I?* *Not after what we did.* *-* *29 October 2016* *They would be two by now. I think they would like the cold, what with all the snow. Maybe we would’ve gone sledding. I confess, it is rather beautiful here. Time works differently in the hills, away from the lights. The cabin seems almost sad, though. It’s missing that woman’s touch, as they say.* *Well, at least,* he *says so.* *-* *1 November 2016* *From sundown to sunup, he whispers his lies in my ear. Buzzing like a wayward mosquito. I ask him to stop - beg him to stop - but he just keeps talking. How am I supposed to make things right, when all I can do is bury my head under a cushion and pray he leaves? I feel like I need to scream. Maybe I will, later.* *-* *3 November 2016* *It rained yesterday. I didn’t get out of bed, not even when the last of the logs had been extinguished. I didn’t want to move. The cold is bad enough. I can’t remember why, but I’ve started to hate the damp. I just lay there and cried, frightened that I might drown in my own tears.* *-* *6 November 2016* *The rain has stopped. All the doors and windows are frozen shut. I had to kick the back door down this morning. I think I’ve hurt my foot. I’ll have a proper look at it later. He’s been silent today. I’m hopeful things will get better now.* *-* *19 December 2016* *I caught sight of a blue jay nest. I’m guessing they didn’t want to leave their home either. There were two of them. At least now I have some company. I’m feeling a bit better as each day passes. I will send for you soon. Perhaps there is a chance we can fix this. I know you didn’t mean to hurt any of us.* *-* *2 January 2017* *Every day is the same up here. I wake before the birds, shovel out the front door, and stand until the sun greets me. I eat very little, and I say even less. I don’t need to speak. It’s nice, the quiet. He hasn’t spoken in weeks now. I think maybe he’s gone for good. I think maybe you can come home soon.* *-* *23 January 2017* *Last night the whispers started up again. I didn’t notice him return. Strange, really, seeing as I would’ve noticed his tracks. Still, I suppose he may have never left. It’s a good thing you aren’t here.* *I’ll have to make him leave.* *-* *24 January 2017* *It’s no longer just talking. I think I understand now. It’s hard to concentrate. I don’t think he’s telling lies anymore. He says I’m the liar. Me? Can you believe that? He certainly does. I want to tell him to leave, but I’m not sure I can. He’s part of me... is that why you did it?* *I haven’t heard the blue jays in a while now. Their nest is empty. I hope they return soon. I feel like I’m slipping back into my old ways. Isolation does that to people.* *-* *26 January 2017* *He speaks to me in my father’s voice. I don’t know why it took so long to recognise it. Of course, I know it isn’t him. Though he keeps whispering, his voice is weaker now. He’s said what he needed to, and now I’m to do as he says.* *The blue jays are gone. Or dead.* *-* *27 January 2017* *I remembered today.* *I wish I could forget.* *You can’t come home.* *-* *30 January 2017* *It’s all my fault. I did this; to us, to them.* *I broke it.* *-* *8 February 2017* *I’m heading out tomorrow. Don’t ask why I didn’t leave today. I’m not entirely certain myself. Maybe its fear? Anyway, I’ll pack light. Not far to go. If I leave early, I’ll make it to the lake with daylight to burn.* *I’ll find you. We’ll be a family, like we should’ve been before. It’ll be different this time.* *We promise.* ‘That’s it?’ ‘That’s the last entry.’ Detective Inspector Kate Douglas pinched the bridge of her nose, leaning back into the uncomfortable office chair. She looked tired, thought the deputy. Of course, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to say so. ‘Well then. Have we recovered the body?’ Kate already knew the answer. No harm in wishful thinking. ‘That’s why I’m here. We did, ma’am. Four bodies, actually.’ Kate raised an eyebrow and leant forward onto her desk with a defeated slump. The constable was young. She doubted he had seen anything like this before. Not in this neighbourhood, anyway. *Christ.* I *haven’t seen anything like this.* ‘The vultures will make a meal of this one. Okay. Fine. Thank you, Constable...?’ ‘Pritchard, ma’am.’ ‘Pritchard,’ she agreed. As Deputy Pritchard took his leave, Kate released a frustrated sigh. They had been searching for Ben Wyatt’s family since early autumn. A neighbour had reported it first. She had been anxious, Kate was told. Said something wasn’t right, that Mrs Wyatt hadn’t returned her calls. *She was already dead.* Kate didn’t know for certain, but she was confident that the coroner’s report would confirm it. Her death was not what bothered the detective. No, in this case it was the other two remains that Kate was refusing to think about. Kyle and Lucy Wyatt had only turned one a week before their disappearance. They would be two by now. Kate remembered their faces. Not that she could ever forget. Twins, they had shared their mother’s golden locks. *Cute kids.* And now they were dead. She swiped at the files that had been spread out before her, sending photocopies of Ben Wyatt’s journal onto the office floor. A photograph of the Wyatt family had stuck, stubbornly, to the desk. It must have been taken shortly after Ben brought his wife home from the hospital. His face was positively beaming, a grin splitting his features from ear to ear. Lauren, the wife, appeared to have been blissfully ignorant of what was to come. *Geez. The kids were tiny.* Though there were elements to the case that had not yet reached a conclusion, Kate was beginning to form an understanding of the Wyatt family’s tragic story. Ben was a schizophrenic - something Lauren had certainly been aware of. She had known him since they were kids. Family friends, Kate was told. His doctors swore that Ben had not been a risk to himself or others. Supposedly he was high-functioning, ailment considered. A bright young man, Ben had been eager to shake the stigma of his condition, enrolling in a teaching course at the local community college. When his applications were denied on medical grounds, Ben turned to another hobby - birdwatching. All year round, Ben operated tour groups, leading other avian enthusiasts into the hills that surrounded the small South Dakota town. As it turned out, he purchased a cabin in those very same hills the week of his children’s birthday. The police had only discovered this today. He had paid cash, and the vendor was an out-of-towner. *A gift for his kids, perhaps. Or premeditation?* Kate didn’t think so. Whatever Ben had been, he was never a monster. No, what triggered him had emerged up in those hills. ‘Why, Ben?’ Kate asked, staring into the face of the man who drowned his young family. The blame was as much hers as it was his. This had been her case. Seven months had passed, and the Wyatt family had never been more than forty miles from the precinct. The baritone lyrics of Johnny Cash’s ‘Heart of Gold’ interrupted Kate’s silent guilt. Someone was calling her cell. She flipped the phone faceup and swiped to answer. ‘D.I. Douglass.’ ‘Kate. It’s Mike. CSIs are here. I’m keeping them out for now, but you’ll want to get here pronto.’ ‘Thanks, Mike.’ Ending the call, Kate stood from her desk and observed the mess she had made. *Tomorrow’s problem.* She swung one arm into the coat hanging from the back of the chair, tightened the holster on her right hip, and grabbed her hat and keys from the hook near the door. \- She arrived at the cabin within the hour. The cruiser had held up well, despite the recent deluge of rain soaking the asphalt. The lights were on the entire way. When she pulled up out front of the tidy wooden structure, Chief Michael Taylor stepped outside to greet her. A handful of vans were already parked alongside his squad car, their occupants casting dubious looks as Kate kicked open the driver door and shook Mike’s hand. ‘Who else has been in?’ she asked. ‘Just myself and Deputy Pritchard.’ ‘Good kid.’ ‘Hmhm,’ he agreed. They crossed the threshold and absorbed the heaviness of the atmosphere within. The room reeked of smoke and mould. Aside from the smell, everything else was impressively tidy. ‘How long do we think he lived here alone?’ Kate asked, stepping around the dining table. It was a small cabin, with only three rooms and a shared bathroom. The main living area had been decorated with eclectic taste. *Probably not Wyatt’s.* ‘We don’t know yet, but judging by the state we found him in, long enough to starve. His wife must’ve done the shopping in the next town over. I’ve phoned a friend and they’ll get back to me if she turns up on any store CCTV.’ ‘So...?’ Mike had a habit of veering off topic. Talking to him was like playing a game of word association. ‘I’d bet somewhere between three to four months. But I don’t gamble. Lots of packaging waste in the trash outside. He burnt a lot more around the back. His body was light though. Doubt he ate much in those last few weeks.’ ‘Alright. Do you mind giving me the room?’ Mike raised his palms in a lazy gesture of impartiality. ‘Just be quick. These techies are getting antsy waiting.’ When Mike had returned to his car, Kate removed her hat and wiped her hand across her clammy brow. Pulling on a pair of disposable gloves, she looked about her surroundings. *Shit.* She started in the kids’ room. Nothing unusual. Next, she checked the bedroom. It didn’t look as though Ben had slept in it. The bathroom was equally pristine. That was strange. Why would a schizophrenic care for neatness? That was when she noticed the mirror. Floating on the wall, about a half a foot from the basin, was a tarnished mirror. While everything else in the room was ordered and spotless, the mirror was smeared with mud and filth. It was also cracked. Kate wasn’t sure exactly why, but she felt drawn to it. Standing in front of the mirror, where Ben Wyatt had surely stood countless times, she peered into the tarnished surface. And someone that looked like Ben was staring straight back. Kate’s heart felt as if it would implode. She jumped back from the mirror with a silent scream, almost tripping over the towel rack behind her. When she looked back into her reflection, all she saw was a tired middle-aged woman, wide-eyed and pale. No one else was there. *No one had been.* Except... the mirror appeared to be loose. Whatever glue had secured it to the tiled wall had been picked away. Something was behind it. Kate knew. And that made her skin crawl. Carefully, with deliberate hands, Kate pried the mirror from the wall. It came away with ease. Behind, accompanied by the scent of rot, were the mangled remains of two blue jays. Though she couldn’t know, Kate was sure that they had been drowned.