Chapter 26 – The diary
Sunday, November 6th, 2016
And whoever is going to read about my boring life,
Today I turned twelve! My parents, Marie-Anne and Peter Jarvis, threw me a huge birthday party, inviting all my friends. As a gift I finally got the Dory doll I have been begging to get for about two years now, but money had always been tight. And off course this diary, that I wanted because I love to write.
It all changed last week, when dad got promotion at work!
Which means we actually had two things to celebrate today. I am no longer going to be the pour girl who got adopted by a pour family.
What excites me most, is that I am now twelve, and allowed to find out who my birth-parents are. Although, daddy warned me that they might not have the information, which would mean I would never find out who they are and why they left me.
But I want to know who they are and why I cannot live with them.
I am going to go to the church down town with mom tomorrow, and I will let you all know who my parents are.
I smirk at the diary, as this is obviously written by a young girl. I have to handle the book carefully, because the binding is weak, and the letters are hard to read after 400 years, but it feels like a treasure.
I browse further, carefully, and notice Natasha started adding dates of her entries after a while. The first bunch of entries are about little kid’s stuff, but then the date jumps a couple of years, and Natasha should be around sixteen years old.
March 17th, 1637, Greenville
I feel very restless and afraid and I felt the need to write my thoughts and the feelings that come with these thoughts down. I found my birthmother now a year ago. She finally came to the church and they gave her the letters I have been leaving for her to read, and to request her to visit.
My mother is the most beautiful woman on this whole wide earth. Even daddy was enchanted by her beauty and mom got jealous.
We are now a year ahead in time and I have learned a lot about my mother, and why she left me at the church. She was not married to my father and her pregnancy was looked down upon. She wished me no such life, as the bastard child of who she claims was a good and strong man she fell for the first second her eyes found him in the mass of church.
She wished me not to know who he is, but I have found out his identity myself.
My father, I am sure of, is none other then Thomason Baywick, the great, great, Mr. Baywick that visited our town two weeks ago.
He is the founder of a tiny town a few miles away from here. It has no name, but Thomason Baywick bought the forest that stretches as far as Greenville and called it Baywick’s forest.
It is called Baywick Woods around town and the men in town are always going over for several weeks to go hunting for food.
The great Baywick is my father, I am sure of.
I have his eyes, and his smile. He was said to have an affair with a beautiful woman he conceived a child with.
Who would be me, Natasha Conrad, daughter of Jessabelle Conrad and Thomas Baywick.
I finally found my birthparents, and it fears me to know my true father.
For my father, Thomason Baywick, is said to have murdered a hunter he had a dispute with not too long ago.
Stories about him, the hunters and Baywick Woods are talk of the town of Greenville. This while we as young women are told to not lower to standards such as ordinary talk about other’s failures or disputes.
Thomason Baywick fell out of grace, but I know he is not the guilty person. But who would believe me when I would tell them that Thomason Baywick was with my mother on the night of the horrible hunting accident that resulted in the passing of a young father of two?
None, I tell you. None will believe me, the daughter of a mineworker, as I am of simple, pour decent.
I fear for my father’s life, dear diary, and I hope I fear for nothing…
Annika is reading the entry over and over again, still not comprehending the fact I found proof that Baywick was innocent for the first accident. It also is proof that I am indeed related to Baywick, Jessabelle and Natasha.
I am a distant relative to Baywick, the true founder of Miller Town.
“He really is innocent.” Annika looks back and forth between me and Davy. “And you truly are related to him!” She gestures towards the diary with wide eyes. “This is huge, Sid!”
“I know, right?”
“We need to tell your parents. We need to tell the coven. Blood-bonds always make things more complicated and difficult. Maybe they will now know what to do, or why the seal isn’t holding on as long as it’s supposed to!”
“Did you find more about the accidents?”
“I haven’t read on. I texted you two as soon as I found this. The first entries she wrote when she was twelve, and she stopped around the age of thirteen. I saw a huge jump in time and the fact it was written in 1637, the year Baywick was murdered.” I shrug, gesturing for Annika to move away from the diary.
“No, wait, I want to read more…”
“It’s mine, Annika,” I deadpan coldly, suddenly feeling possessive over the diary. “It belonged to my ancestor, not yours.”
She pulls up her eyebrows, opening her mouth to talk back, but as she looks at Davy she backs out and steps aside.
I carefully close the diary, putting it in the plastic bag I use to protect it from too much air, before I place it in a box to keep it away from light.
“We need to tell your parents…”
“And we will!” I snap at Davy, who comes across as impatient, annoying me. “Jeez can you be any more impatient?”
“I was just saying… Never mind…” He sighs, rolling his eyes annoyed, leaving my bedroom to go back downstairs.
“Are you feeling okay?” Annika asks unsurely, as Angie suddenly appears beside me, causing me to jump in my spot.
“Stop! Sneaking up on me!” I snap at her in anger, sending Annika a look. “I am fine, I’m just tired.”
“Okay, then maybe taking a nap isn’t a bad idea…” She speaks sadly and I want to comfort her, but as I reach out to grab her hand, she pulls away and shakes her head. “It… hurts.”
“It hurts?” I frown confused. “Like… burning?”
“No not any burn wounds but…” She bites her lip, looking down sadly. “You feel really hot and I get little jolts… I don’t know…” She takes in a deep breath. “I feel it better whenever I’m sad, and I really don’t feel happy right now.”
“How come…? I wanted to comfort you…”
She scoffs, shuffling a foot. “It’s you… you keep snapping at us and it hurts me because we’re just trying to help.”
“I know, but I’m scared, I’m tired… I’m the one who’s dying, yet I hardly get a say in anything these days.”
“Because we don’t know if you are affected or not, and we don’t know… if whatever you know, the entity knows too…” She swallows. “We keep you out because we’re protecting you, okay?” She hesitantly reaches my wrist, grabbing it after her hand lingered above it shortly, but then she squeezes it and pecks a quick kiss on my cheek. “Never forget that I love you very much.”
I swallow hard, sad because she pulled away quickly, knowing the barrier is growing and soon she won’t be able to show any signs of affection anymore.
And neither can I.
I bite my lip as she leaves my room to follow Davy, and after putting the diary away, I follow them to go on and inform my parents about what I just found out. But I’m not going to show them the diary, because that belongs to me, and not to them. They will surely take it away, so I made sure to use a box with a lock on it, so they would not be able to. I keep it hidden under my bed for safety measures.
As soon as I enter the living room, my parents look up curiously.
“Davy said you have important information?” Dad gestures me to sit down, but I feel angsty to step into the room, not exactly knowing why I don’t want to. So, I lean against the doorpost, casually, trying to play it off as if nothing is wrong.
“I do, yes.” I nod, biting my lip shortly, standing up straight again. “We are indeed related to Baywick. His lost daughter is our ancestor.”
His eyebrows fly up, and so do mom’s.
“We really are related to Baywick?”
“Baywick had a lost daughter, Natasha Conrad. She founded the orphanage, which is why we went there yesterday.”
“And how did you find out we’re related?” Dad asks curiously.
“I found Natasha’s diary.” I shrug. “No, you can’t have it, because I need to figure some things out.”
“Like what? It could contain information we could use to solve this!” Mom starts her protest, but I stop her by holding up a hand.
“The fact Natasha is sixteen in the year Baywick was murdered. She was conceived before he settled in the forest.” I’m not even sure when I figured out that the timeline is off, but all I now is that Natasha writes as a twelve-year-old in 1633. Which means she was born 3 years prior to Baywick moving into the woods.
“We can figure that out together.” Mom suggests.
“It’s mine, and you’re not going to take the diary away. You just search your books, I’ll read the diary. It’s fragile and I done want any of you to break it.”
Mom swallows, dad sighs, and Davy and Annika share a look, right before I turn around to head back upstairs. “I’ll let you know once I found out more.”
Monday, November 7th, 2016
As I get home from school – half a day as a compromise – I hurry upstairs as soon as I got home. Mom isn’t there while I expected her to be there, while Liza smiles unsurely when she saw me in the hallway. As always, dad is at work, so him not being here isn’t weird. It just annoys me that mom got Liza to babysit me while I’m old enough to stay at home by myself.
But I don’t care, because all I want to do is lock myself in my room and read more in Natasha’s diary.
But as I duck to grab the box, it’s not in the same spot I left it.
I frantically search the void space, not finding the box anywhere under the bed. I search my room, making a complete mess off it as I start to realise they took the box, with the diary, without my permission.
“They’ll ruin it…” I whisper in shock, staring around the room, turning circles, as I start to feel angry, upset, and betrayed all at once. “No!” I scream in anger, as I really can’t find the box or the diary. “It’s mine! Goddamn it!” I knock over my chair in anger, I throw my books around, hoping to find the diary in the pile, but never finding it.
“Sid?” Liza sounds scared and shocked, as she knocks on my door.
“Get the hell away from me!” I shout at her, kicking the door, causing her to yelp in surprise.
“What’s going on?”
“Get! Away! From me! You filthy little thieve!” I pull open the door, staring at her in disgust and anger. “You’re in on this, aren’t you!?” I barge towards her, pushing her backwards, not overthinking any of my words or actions.
It’s just a raging anger, it’s hate I feel growing, and I stare blankly as she nearly falls down the stairs, hardly capable of catching herself.
“What the hell, Sid!” She calls out, now angry herself. “Why would I be a thief? What am I in on!?”
“You helped them steal it!” I step towards her again, and run after her when she flees down the stairs. “Give it back you bitch!”
“Sid, I didn’t steal anything! Mom called and asked me to wait for you to get home and cook you something to eat!” She calls out, running down the second stairs while I’m closing in on her. “Stop it Sid! You’re scaring me!” She cries out in fear.
“Give. My. Diary. Back!”
“I don’t have it!” She cries out, as my hand almost as if on auto-pilot, reaches towards her throat.
“Get back!” She calls, holding out her hands, sending me flying backwards, landing on the stairs painfully.
It’s not helping to calm me down. On the contrary, the pain in my back is only making me more angry.
“The fuck, you bitch! Did you really use your magic against me!?” I demand her to answer, pushing myself up as she runs into the living room, snatching her phone from the table, running towards the kitchen. “You pathetic little witch!”
“Sid, please!” She is crying, and I smirk devilishly until she waves her hand as soon as I got to close, causing me to fly backwards yet again.
She keeps her hand in front of her, a bit shaky, but I think she’s restraining me as I’m on the ground, struggling to get up but not succeeding.
“Mom?” Liza cries out into the phone, while I scream out in anger because she won’t let me go.
“Fight me fair, bitch!” I call out, anger raging through me.
“Mom, I think it broke… It… Sid… he’s going crazy… I can’t hold him much longer.”
And with one more scream in anger, a wave of anger bursts out, now causing Liza to fly backwards, while a high-pitched scream leaves her throat.
Not just Liza moved, but the couch, the dining table and the chairs did too. It all slides away from me, as Liza’s hold on me falters and I am able to move again.
But I am that exhausted, and the anger is gone in the blink of an eye. All that is left is my body, drained from its energy. I roll over, crossing my chest with my arms, as a burning sensation causes my breathing to become erratic, oxygen harder to breath in.
“Sid?” Liza sounds scared to death, upset, and she’s definitely crying. “Mom, you need to come home, right now.”