Chapter Twenty Nine: The Red Diary

Bates and Cedric stood in front of Victoria’s house sharing a look. They couldn’t hear a single heartbeat inside, nor did they hear any movement. The house was a simple one-storey house, with a big front yard and a wooden porch. “I don’t think she’s there.” Bates decided with his eyes fixed on the house.

Cedric’s concentrated look dispersed, gave a side glance towards Bates, “Perhaps she ran away. But how would she know we were coming?” They knew they would find no answer to that question; no one knew they were coming but for Aiden and Lorraine. They didn’t think either of them would tell Victoria. “Aiden.” Cedric had multiple reasons to suspect him, so the thought rolled in his mind with a bitter taste.

They walked to the front door, and Cedric kicked it open, tearing it off its hinges. Bates turned to him with a repriminding look, “Was that really necessary?” Cedric only shrugged, but gave no reply as he stepped inside the house. Scanning the house, they noticed it had several pictures and paintings hanging on the wall. Cedric moved closer to one of the pictures; it looked kind of old with Victoria having a wide grin and looking no older than fifteen. There was another girl in the picture with caramel skin and soft brown eyes. “I don’t think she knew we were coming, everything is as it is.” Bates started coming out from one of the rooms.

Cedric nodded his head, then walked to a small library with various kinds of books. He skimmed through the titles. Then pulled a book with a light brown leather cover. He hummed, “I don’t think she would leave a grimoire behind.” Taking a closer look, he noticed there were two more grimoires, “Or three at that.”

“I don’t think there’s anything here.” No sooner had Bates said the words, than a file fell from one of the grimoires, and few papers scattered on the floor.

Cedric picked it up and collected the papers. His eyes squinted slightly, before he turned to Bates asking, “Who’s Raymond Brown?” The two looked at each other, then back at the file.

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Aiden and Lorraine had been arranging the things in her basement. When he noticed her still in her place, holding a small red notebook. She had an inquisitive look on her face, curious even, as she went through it. “What’s that?” He asked, walking behind her and looking from over her shoulder.

Lorraine turned to him with furrowed brows, “I think it’s my mom’s diary.” She turned back to the notebook, “She’s talking about a man. Raymond Brown.”

*June 2002*
I don’t know who he is, or how I came to meet him. He’s sweet, nice, and a gentleman. He was everything a girl would dream about. We finally talked today, after days of me going to that coffee place just to watch him like a creep. He was sitting alone, like always, sipping his cup of coffee, smoking a cigarette, and listening to music. We would always sit on opposite tables and just glance at each other; he made me so giddy.

Today, we finally talked. He walked to my table in the utmost grace ever and asked me if I like listening to classical music, then he made me listen to symphony number 4 by Brahms. I had never listened to symphonies before, but I was willing to try it with him. He told me that it’s a very personal symphony, that it tells a tale of an unconsummated love affair. Raymond Brown was indeed so very interesting.

…
*September 2002*
I don’t know what’s happening anymore. It’s like he has become a different person, like I no longer know who he is. He drinks a lot, smokes a lot, and he’s just out of it most of the time. He pushes me away, then asks me to stay with him. He holds me like I’m his lifeline, then he would treat me like I’m his worst enemy.

It has been almost a week, and I don’t even know where he is. I don’t know what to do anymore. How can something so sweet, how can something that makes you happy and over the moon, turn into something so petrifying? I feel stuck…
…

*November 2002*
He has been sober for the past month, but he’s so fidgety, like he’s afraid of something. He would wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air and drenched in sweat. Sometimes I enter the room and he would be staring absently at the wall and mumbling under his breath.

He no longer kisses me when he leaves for work. We fight all the time, about my classes in college, about my schedule, about his. Hell, we had a big fight tonight because dinner wasn’t ready when he came home. Every time I try to leave, something stops me. I feel trapped…
…

*January 2003*
They say new year is the happiest time of the three hundred and sixty-five days. Well, it isn’t. Not for me! I entered the room today; he was gazing out of the window. He has been calm lately. He was treating me so right that I thought we would finally be happy again. I guess I was wrong. I am scared.

Dear God! I’m terrified.

I don’t know what he’s doing, but he’s scaring the living hell out of me. We had a fight this morning, he told me he thinks I’m cheating on him. He told me about this guy in my class, Jack, I never told him about Jack. He was a sweet boy in my class, maybe too sweet. But I never told Raymond about him. He went on and recited to me an entire conversation that I had had with Jack. How could that even be possible?

It was like always, we fought, he hurt me with his words, then we made up. He mumbles apologies, hugs me, and begs me to not leave him. Then, it would be over, like nothing had actually happened. I hate him, but I love him.
…

*March 2003*
He left me. He told me he cannot do this anymore. I wonder how it has come to that, but it did. It was what I had wanted but being away from him was a torture. I’m in pain, and I don’t even know how to get better.
…

*May 2003*
It has been two months, and I think I am finally living my life. Everything felt a little dull at first, but it worked out. I busied myself with work and drowned myself in my studies. I steered clear of having any relationships. I don’t think my heart can ever take that pain anymore. I think I’m finally okay. I believe that I moved on.
…

*June 2003*
We made up. He showed up at my door with flowers, telling me it was the anniversary of the first time we met. And I took him back. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t say no. I was drawn to him like a moth to flame. I don’t know what he's doing to me. Looking at him right now, sleeping so peacefully reminded me of how things were at the beginning. I can only hope that things won't change.
…

*August 2003*
I was wrong. My hopes went down the drain. He didn’t change, he had become worse. Yesterday he hit me, for the first time. He slapped me across the face with strange anger. The fire in his eyes was new to me, he was like someone different.
He apologized, and I told him that I forgive him. But this time, it’s different. I will pack everything I own and run away. I don’t care what might happen. I know if I talked to him, he would somehow manage to convince me to stay. I can’t do that anymore.
I can’t do that to my child.