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The Johnson Claydon Diaries

Second Entry

I’m not me,

And nor is she,

Who sits upon the bed?

But then who,

Is me, is you,

Who sits here very dead?

Third Entry

It’s been a week, I think… and I can just about hold my pencil steady. Reliving it is hard, but if I don’t get it down while it’s fresh, it will change like water and then I’ll never find her.

I can’t remember everything that happened the morning I woke. It comes to me in terrible slaps that are sharp like glass on my memory, and I’ve been trying to piece it together. I remember that there wasn’t enough air, and what air there was, was hot—too hot. I couldn’t breathe because it boiled my lungs, and I gagged on the alveoli bubbling up into my throat. I ran—ran out the door and maybe down the corridor, maybe down the fire escape—that part’s foggy.

I fled the room, fled the wing, fled the school. Fled my mind, Dee.

I remember running, and things in my way, and knocking into people who were all arms trying to catch me. I remember drowning in the open air, and everything being painful on my eyes. I remember someone’s voice calling Carly’s name, and I remember covering my ears and screaming as I fled.

I remember writing, so maybe I told you all this already. I can’t be sure, though, until I get back to Elmbridge. So here it is again, maybe. Not. I don’t know.

The rest is muddled. There was the roof, rain, thunder—someone carrying me away, and my heart broke that I had lost my chance to fly. Lansing is going to lock me up forever now.

Carly was gone. Carly was nothing. I’ve lost her. I’m in her space… her space is empty. It’s been so many days, Dee, and Carly is still gone.

The doctors dosed me again. It was like I was back to that messed-up place after they died. It’s like I lost it myself as well as Carly.

Honestly, Dee, I have no idea what I’m going to do.

I’ve had more dreams. What is going on???

I keep hoping I’ll discard when the sun rises.

Fourth Entry

The girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the

girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is

here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here

the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the

girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is

here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here

the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the

girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is

here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here

the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here

the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here

the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here

the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here

the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here

the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here

the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl

is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the

girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is

here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the

girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is

here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the

girl is here the girl is here

Fifth Entry

I watch them watching me. They stare and they analyze, hoping to figure out what has broken. Where they’ve gone wrong, never for a moment thinking that what I told them might be true. They call me the real Carly now. Suddenly, she’s the alter. Funny how quickly they turn it all around.

48 69 days until the incident

Inpatient Therapy Notes

Dr. Annabeth Lansing

Patient File [Johnson-C-0399524], Session #59

Thursday, 25 November 2004

Carly was found sprinting along the east hall. There were lesions on her hands and feet, and Nurse Tulk informs me that she appeared terrified. When Health-care Assistant Rogers caught her, she scratched his cheek and screamed wildly, kicking out. Nurse Tulk reports that she was staring down the corridor, eyes wide and manic, saliva dried on her lips.

She insists she did not hurt herself, but that “something” was in the room with her. I have no choice but to believe the injuries are self-inflicted, and her nails have been cut short to prevent further damage.

We have started a saline drip for dehydration, and for now she has been locked in her room. I fear she may be a danger to others.

The Johnson Claydon Diaries

Sixth Entry

My mind climbed out the window… They think they can cage me? My nails could be broken and bloody, but what would that matter? My body is a tool.

Up here, my mind seems to open up. I can picture the rows of psychiatric wards that lie dull and dead under a moon that should make them sparkle, and I can almost hear the silent sobs from within each blocky window. This is different from Elmbridge, but it’s still a roof. I can still fly. If I want.

And I still float here and wonder why I don’t—what’s holding me down?

Carly. Please. Where are you?

Carly? Are you there?

49

Inpatient Session Recording #59 [Ref: Johnson-Inp-0033]

Friday, 26 November 2004, 11:13 AM

Claydon Youth Psychiatric Facility, Somerset

Dr. Annabeth Lansing (AL) and Carly Luanne Johnson (CJ)

(AL): What is it, Carly?

[Silence]

What’s so amusing to you? Hm?

[Slow laughter]

Care to share it with me?

[Laughter building]

Carly.

[Raucous laughter]

Come on, now. Let’s talk, shall we?

[Laughter becomes manic]

Very well. We’ll try again tomorrow.

[End of tape]

The Johnson Claydon Diaries

Seventh Entry

I found the patient bathroom—the one Lansing didn’t want me to see. The one in the patient common room. Because of the mirror. But it’s not a real mirror at all, Dee. It’s this imitation mirror that belongs in a toddler’s play area. Thin, plastic, reflective but warped. But even though the reflection was bent and strange, I did see her. A girl, far off in the distance.