Tonight I woke up to the oppressive heat. The humidity pushing it into my lungs like a plastic bag. It’s hard to sleep, hard to care about much. When I awoke covered in sweat, Lucy was still asleep. I stared at her and I knew I could make her human again. I have no idea how I knew that, I just knew. I reached out my hand and could feel my body reaching into itself, my soul reaching out of my body. I knew it would work and I recoiled. I have no clue what is going on with me. What the fuck?

I got up and went to the next room where I have been keeping the box. It’s tarnished and riveted metal the same as it was before I went to sleep. The lid had been stuck on since I first laid my eyes on it, so I didn’t even try. I just stared at it. My long dead father that I didn’t know left it for me. Left this house for me. Shit he even left me a small fortune in the bank. Suzanne’s letter explained that much, but it didn’t explain why, or who he was, or what the hell is going on. This box over the last few days has become a symbol of that confusion to me. A focus for my anger at times, as the hole in the wall is testament to.

While I have been moping around trying to get my shit together in my head, worrying about myself and Henry, I convinced Lucy to try to write some in the journal. It only took a few days for her to get frustrated with trying to write. I completely backed off and didn’t pressure her but I think the idea of trying to sound like you can actually write was too much for her. I understand, I’m not a fucking writer either, but I get away with it because I’m addicted, and I say fuck a lot. People tend to forgive you if they know you don’t give a shit. At least I tell myself that.

We haven’t seen Isabelle, have no idea where Henry is at. I was hoping if Lucy would write we could uncover something she is forgetting. Have a clue. Vampires are good at covering their tracks. We did spend some time going out and looking for them but everywhere Lucy said Isabelle lived, was no longer the home to our most dangerous friend.

I’m on the laptop sitting with the windows open, the night blowing the curtains into the house. This old house decorated like it was eighty years ago. It’s like a scene from a movie if that movie was Sex in the City meets Blade.

On the bright side, Lucy introduced me to the music of Carina Round. I knew her as that girl who was touring with Puscifer, but she stands really solid on her own. I’m going to turn it up and zone out. Lucy is out in the night, and I have nothing better to do.