THIS FILE IS TAKEN FROM EMMA'S JOURNAL ENTRY.
--File 032: Rest in Peace, Keith--
10/20/XXXX
Dear Journal,
I just got off the phone with my mom.
She's been trying to call me for an hour, but for obvious reasons, I couldn't pick up. That crazy haunted bullshit video game was trying to tell us about the life of a poor, abandoned serial killer. Boo hoo, what a bitch.
Sorry. I shouldn't say something like that in here. I'm feeling... a lot. I don't know how to deal with it.
The others know something's up. They've tried talking to me a few times, and I just... do not want to talk about it. At all. I don't want to talk, at all.
I have a feeling Anders knows what's up. Maybe Blaine, too. I've seen him shooting me worried looks, and Anders hasn't questioned me on anything, so either they're waiting to see if I get possessed randomly again, or they know that Keith's dead.
He's dead.
I got him killed.
I know they'll say it wasn't my fault... but it was. Let's be really fucking for real right now. It was my fault that he found that stupid fucking game from that stupid fucking serial killer in my stupid fucking backpack, and then he tried to play it, because of course he would, like who would find a video game in their girlfriend's backpack and not think "Oh, neat, a game, let me try it out"? Like for fucking real?
I left him in there because of our stupid petty drama, all while in the middle of something so seriously real and insane, and I couldn't keep my head in the game. I couldn't stay grounded. I got worked up over... I don't even fucking remember, that's how STUPID it was!
And then I left him.
The next time I saw him, he had maggots bursting out of every opening, his eyes full of fear, flies everywhere, God, those flies...
That's how I remember him. Literally being strangled to death by maggots. Real, for really real, haunted or cursed maggots, controlled from beyond the grave by a stupid fucking serial killer psychopath.
There is no going back from this. I can't come back from all of this. whatever my life is going forward, it's not going to be the same anymore. It'll never be the same again.
Keith's dead. I may as well have killed him and pulled the trigger myself.
I don't know what to think or do. All the while, this insane, crazy urge/belief that I've done this before is just growing by the minute. I wasn't surprised at all by what we surmised from the most recent level; just feels like putting together all of the puzzle pieces.
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What is happening to us? Are we just headed toward our death?
I have a bad feeling, all of a sudden
The writing stops very suddenly, leaving off in the middle of that sentence. There is no more writing for this journal entry, but the file picks up from Blaine, who begins recording shortly after. The car is still moving on the road, but Anders's expression is strained and stressed, hands tight on the wheel of the car, and he continually glances in the rearview mirror.
The camera is being shaken around, and Blaine is breathing hard. When he pulls the camera up, Emma is seen sitting in the backseat, stock still, back ramrod straight, expression serene.
Blaine: "Emma? Emma? Hey. Emma!"
Emma says nothing. She continues to stare straight out the front window pane, but her expression slowly falls, and then twists into despair. She drops her face into her hands in a silent sob, which Blaine leans around his seat to better film.
Anders: "Do... we need to do something? What the hell do we do?"
Blaine: "Get Bartosz on the line!"
Anders: "Hang on."
Anders is trying to dial a number while keeping an eye on the road, while Blaine continues to film the extremely silent Emma, who is pantomiming crying out and sobbing. She brings her legs up to her chest and turns away from Blaine, almost as if she's trying to crawl away from him.
Blaine: "Em, what the hell is going on? Talk to me."
Emma's head snaps up, and she suddenly lurches forward and grabs his arm. Anders, who has just gotten Bartosz on the phone, jumps and yelps.
Emma pulls herself up to where Blaine is, ignoring the camera entirely.
Emma: "Every time Emma dies, another one is born."
Before anyone can say anything, Emma suddenly sits back into her seat, posture perfect, closes her eyes, and then slumps over.
Anders immediately pulls the car over, trying very quickly to explain everything to Bartosz while Blaine sprints out of the passenger side and rips open Emma's door.
In the few minutes it takes him to do this, Emma is waking up and blinking at him in total confusion.
Emma: "What just happened?"
Blaine: "Jesus, Em. You... you..."
She looks between Blaine and Anders, who is leaning through the driver's side now and staring very hard at her.
Emma: "...was I possessed again?"
Anders: "Yes."
Emma: "Mother fuc- show me the fucking camera."
Blaine immediately drops the camera and stops recording.
The next time the camera is recording, it is neither Blaine nor Emma recording it, but, presumably, Bartosz. Anders is seen off to the side, pretending not to pay attention.
Blaine and Emma are seated at an old, mostly unused and rotting picnic table. Emma is sobbing hard and uncontrollably; the gray, unmarked handheld game console is resting a few feet from her, seemingly innocent, but likely having teleported itself there, unwanted but not unforgotten.
Emma has her face in her hands and her cell phone in front of her. There are pictures there; a slight tilt of the video camera just barely shows that it's currently on one of Keith, but when Emma swipes, there's a photo of her and Wynona there.
Emma's sobs continue, and Blaine is awkwardly sitting next to her, his hand on her back, expression dismayed. No one says anything as Emma finally grieves.
It is obvious that the stress of the possession has likely broken a final vestige of pretending to be fine, and Emma is now releasing the flood gates of emotions as she sits there and sobs, long and hard.
After a few minutes of recording this, Bartosz lowers the camera and ends the recording silently.
--END TRANSMISSION--