On an unusually cold October morning, a girl walks swiftly down a path in a local park. Something on the side of the trail catches her eye.
A book?
Yes.
A diary?
Yes.
She sits down on a park bench and opens to the first page.
.
.
.
Hello there.
I see you found this diary.
I hope my plan worked, and you are who I think you are.
If you're who I think you are, then your name is either Tori Vega or Jade West.
I want to tell you the truth about me.
I'm not who you think.
You can keep believing what you want about me and put this diary down where you found it.
Or. You can turn the page.
The girl squinted in eerie confusion, turning the page slowly.
One.
I have no family. If you hear me mention my brother….he doesn't exist.
When I was four years old, my family was murdered.
How did I escape? I don't quite remember, but they tell me I was kidnapped. Maybe even tortured.
And my parents? Those are my adoptive parents.
I really don't have a brother. Really.
But I do have scars on my stomach from the day my family was murdered.
And I almost wish I DID remember, because I want answers.
The girl turned another page, refocusing on the writing in a red glitter pen.
Two.
When I was thirteen I started cutting myself.
I would throw up after every meal.
I would do drugs with my neighbors' son.
I wound up in the hospital because I was so depressed.
Because something had always been missing.
The girl turned another page. And it was this page with which she finally KNEW who this diary belonged to.
Three.
Why do I act the way I act?
Because it's the only way.
To avoid doing the things I did when I was thirteen.
I haven't cut myself since. But you can still see the scars.
I haven't stuck my fingers down my throat. But I still remember all those nights passed out by the toilet, how weak and thin I became.
I haven't even thought of doing drugs. But my neighbors' son still offers sometimes.
So I act the way I act because it's distracting.
But my hair is naturally that color. I'm not sure how.
The color of blood.
Tori Vega sat there.
Cat?
Sweet, innocent Cat, she had a past. She had a story.
She turned one more page.
Four.
I'm going to run away.
I'm going to look for answers.
I don't know where I'll go, but you can't tell anyone, except the gang.
I'll see you again someday.
If you love me, you'll keep my secret.
.
.
.
Tori Vega started crying.
She pulled out her phone calling Cat's phone.
The number you are trying to reach is now out of service.
She dialed a different number.
"Beck? I need you to come pick me up. It's important."
.
.
.
Tori Vega sat in her living room, and finished reading the diary pages aloud to the gang.
Everyone seemed pale.
Tori was still crying, and Robbie was already basically sobbing.
Andre looked at the floor, and even Jade eventually broke down.
They didn't speak of trying to find her. Because they didn't know where she'd go. They didn't know the real Cat.
They would see her again alright.
Exactly one year later.
