January 12th, Early morning, Commons room
I never should have read that book. Ever. It turns out that it wasn't Mertle's journal at all – it wasn't even a journal. I guess they shelved it next to the biting book for a reason. I am now in possession of knowledge I should never have come across. I know I shouldn't use it. But it's like it wants to get out, wants to be used. And the only place I can talk about it is here. So here's my story as best I can tell it.
After I put this journal down last night, I sat and stared at the book. Its cover is blue, with curly gold designs on the cover. I guess that should have tipped me off that maybe it wasn't a journal, and maybe it did, but I opened the cover just the same. It was as if some inexplicable force wanted me to read it. From the first page, I was drawn in by tales of dark witches and wizards and the black curses they employed to carry out their evil deeds.
As I read the curses, I could almost hear the evil words being spoken, and against my will they were committed to my memory. The hair on my arms stood up as I read further, the crimes and curses becoming more and more shocking. Finally, at about three a.m., I finished reading the slim volume, the heinous murders still playing out in my mind. I reached a hand up to my face to brush my hair out of my eyes, and realized that my face was wet with shed tears. I ran up to the dormitory and shoved the book under my mattress.
I've tried to fall asleep since then, but the pictures play across my mind and I hear those awful words every time I close my eyes. I've finally given up on getting any sleep, so I'm sitting here in the commons room, wrapped in Angelina's extra blanket, trying to purge my mind of those images. But it's not working. Will I be haunted by these images forever? Will this unnamed voice that is calling out for me to use these words ever cease? And another question is running through my voice as well. Did Mertle want me to find this book? If so, then I guess it's true what they say – the dead do get revenge, and they get it good.
I hope...I don't know. I hope I'm still me by the time morning comes.