Farrow's Journal

XYLOPHONICS I

5/20/2020

4:15 AM

 

This isn’t an experiment anymore. I’m mixed up in something genuinely weird and I’m starting to think my life could be in danger. Maybe I’m being reactionary. I think I’m being careful.

 

I’m back at the estate, sitting in my car, waiting for the sun to come up.

 

Here’s what happened.

 

I did my “experiment” when I was done sifting through stuff yesterday. Drove back to the motel and started doing my evening routine, and what do you know, just like clockwork, the nausea hit again. This time it was almost like a punch in the gut, like it was waiting for me, you know? I took my temperature - 101 - and then without waiting around I got back in my car and drove back toward the estate.

 

No more nausea. Took my temperature again. 98.

 

Ok, so at this point I’m thinking that I should have let someone know I was only joking when I said I hoped the Madigan Estate was full of ghosts. Clearly there’s something here and it hates my literal guts.

 

Congrats, I officially believe in stuff.

 

Get me out of here.

 

OK. So that was about 6 PM last night. I took a couple antiemetics (I thought ahead this time) and drove back to the motel. Wrote an email to Quinn. I told her everything. About Hazel’s doppelgänger, about my doppelgänger, the disappearing illness, everything. And I told her I’m out. I’m not doing this project anymore. That was about 8 PM.

 

Then I tried to leave town. Popped a few more antiemetics. Took my temperature (100), and got on the interstate.

 

Worst mistake since Waffle House.

 

I realized I was going to pass out about five seconds before I actually did, so I was able to pull onto the verge and slow down but I still ended up going into a ditch. It could have been so. Much. Worse. I could’ve died. I’m amazed I didn’t die. Hell, even my car is ok. Banged up but it still runs.

 

Obviously they wouldn’t let me drive once the paramedics were done with me, but I convinced them to let me get a ride back to the motel once they looked me over at the urgent care. They wanted to hold me overnight.

 

I don’t think I would have survived that long.

 

Considering I had a fever of about 102, I’m pretty impressed with the amount of persuading and bargaining I was able to pull off. I got my car towed back to the motel. I managed to keep from throwing up or passing out long enough to convince my Uber driver I wasn’t going to drop dead in the middle of the night.

 

Then, when I was alone, I got back in my car and came here.

 

And now I’m fine.

 

No fever, no throwing up, not a trace of nausea. So that’s enough proof for me. Maybe there’s still some logical explanation, like a psycho-somatic reaction or, like, something poisonous at the motel. But I’m not asking why just now. I’m responding to what’s happening, and right now what’s happening is that I get sick if I leave the estate grounds for more than a couple of hours.

 

Maybe that will change and I’ll get sick here, too. I don’t really know what to do. Did Hazel die because she was away from the estate? Maybe medicine is advanced enough now that I’d be able to survive whatever this is, but that’s not really a chance I’m desperate enough to take at this point.

 

Guess I’m a ghostbuster now. Or something.

 

Listen, I’ve got to cope with this somehow. I’m gonna try to get some sleep, and later I’ll head back into town to grab some food and see if Quinn replied to me yet. The motel room is paid up for another (9?) days, but I’m gonna go ahead and grab my suitcase and stuff, too. It's getting harder to keep track of time. No hope of keeping a routine anymore and time doesn't matter much when I'm just trapped here anyway. 

 

I probably won’t be able to sleep in my car on a spooky definitely haunted estate but goddamn if I’m not going to try. I just got in a car accident. My everything hurts. I’ve been puking my guts out for three days, and I deserve a fucking nap.

 

Good fucking night.

h e   l l        o ?