After leaving the diary on her father’s grave, Emily felt a strange sense of peace. She felt lighter, as if a heavy weight had been taken off her shoulders. Turning to Edward, she smiled and said, “Honey, I think I’ll be okay now. Thank you for being with me.”

As they drove home from the graveyard, Emily’s calm feeling was suddenly interrupted by something strange. She felt something lightly touch her hair, like a soft breeze, but it made her shiver. Feeling nervous, she looked back toward the gravestones. For a moment, she thought she saw someone standing there, watching her. She blinked—and it was gone.

Trying to ignore the creepy feeling, Emily stayed quiet for the rest of the ride. When they got home, she felt extremely tired. Her body and mind were exhausted, and she quickly fell into a troubled sleep. Her dreams were broken and scary, filled with dark shapes and the echo of her father’s painful words.

The next morning, Emily woke up feeling heavy and uneasy. She forced herself to the bathroom, hoping a shower would help. As the warm water ran over her, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was like a whisper deep inside her head, calling her name—a voice she couldn’t recognize.

She closed her eyes and tried to calm down, but the feeling only got worse. The water, which was comforting at first, now felt heavy and crushing. Her vision darkened, and her breathing turned fast and shallow.

Scared, Emily quickly turned off the shower and stumbled out. She leaned against the sink, shaking. Then, out of nowhere, she felt sick and bent over, throwing up into the sink. What came out was dark red—almost like blood. Seeing it made her panic even more.

Edward heard her and rushed in. “Emily!” he shouted. When he saw the red liquid, he quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. “We have to go to the hospital,” he said, helping her out of the bathroom. He also picked up their little child, who was too young to stay alone.

At the hospital, the doctors moved quickly. They gave her some medicine and checked her blood pressure, which was very low. Emily was crying non-stop, scared and confused. “Please, I need the diary!” she begged through her tears, clearly desperate.

The doctors tried everything but couldn’t figure out what was wrong. They ran many tests, but nothing explained her sickness. Emily kept crying, getting more upset as time passed. One doctor pulled Edward aside and said gently, “We can’t find any medical reason for what’s happening. I suggest giving her these medicines, but also take her to a mental health doctor. This could be caused by stress or a past trauma.”

Edward nodded, feeling both helpless and determined. “I’ll get the medicine right away. Please take care of her,” he said, then rushed to the pharmacy with their child. As he hurried through the hospital halls, his heart was full of fear—for Emily, and the strange darkness that seemed to be closing in.

While Edward was away, Emily’s fear and confusion got worse. She felt trapped and misunderstood. In a moment of panic, she bit a doctor’s hand when he tried to calm her down. The doctor cried out, and Emily took the chance to break free. She grabbed her child and ran from the room. She was still in a hospital gown, barefoot, but she didn’t care.

“Stay away!” she screamed at the hospital staff. “If anyone comes near me, I’ll hurt my child!” Her eyes looked wild, filled with fear and madness.

Emily ran out of the hospital, holding her child close. She had no idea where she was going, but her feet seemed to know. Edward, returning with the medicine, saw her running and shouted, “Emily! Stop! Please!”

But Emily didn’t seem to hear him. It was like she had forgotten everything. She kept running, eyes full of desperation, heading toward the graveyard where her parents were buried. Edward chased her, calling her name, but she was beyond hearing. Barefoot, in a thin gown, child pressed tightly to her chest—she ran, pushed by something she didn’t understand.

At the graveyard, her madness reached its peak. She placed the child down and began digging at her father’s grave with her bare hands, throwing dirt and stones in every direction. Edward arrived, gasping for breath, and saw the desperation in her.

“Emily, please,” he said, crying. “Come back to us.”

But she didn’t stop. Her hands were bleeding. At first, she found nothing. Panic filled her eyes. Then suddenly, her fingers touched something solid. With one last effort, she pulled out the old, torn diary—the one she had left behind. She clutched it to her chest, holding it as if her life depended on it.