dear diary,

GeorGie went missing yesterdays. just like the Man in my dream sed. he was tall. the Man was tall and white and skinny, like bones.

MuMMy is crying. today and tomoroe and forever. she cries in her bed and the kichen. daddy is always talking to police Oficers that are white like the Man in my dream. but these white Men are not skinny. they are fat and they hav moostaches.

i hOpe they find geOrGie.

lots of love,

Casey minT xoxoxoxoxo

“What. The Hell. Whatthehellwhatthehell. Who is this girl?” I snap the diary shut as soon as I see the name scribbled in a six year old’s scrawl. Manni shrugs.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t you?”

I’m breathing more heavily now. “No, no that’s not me. That’s—Georgie’s never been missing before. And my ma’s been dead for years. I never called her mummy.”

“Oh?” Manni’s tone is skeptic, but I am certain this diary was never mine.

“Can I…can I keep it?” I ask, already tucking the battered book into my pocket. Manni shrugs.

“Yeah, whatever. My mother wants as much of this junk out as soon as possible.” He glances around at the messy attic and runs a hand down his face before exhaling slowly.

We part ways at his front door, and now only one mystery remains. Who is the little girl writing in this diary? And why does she share my name, and have a brother with the same name as mine?