Siri Talk's

     My mother died recently. She was only 35. She had me when she was very young, just barely 17. Since my father was never around, I went to live with my grandmother shortly after. She was an old, bitter woman, but she became much quieter when I came to live with her. Hours and hours she would sit, rocking back and forth in that chair of hers, mumbling under her breath. I keep hearing her say “Jenny”. That was my mother’s name.

     Anyway, a couple of nights ago, I had a disturbing experience. It was about 2:00 am. I was lying in bed, trying to get to sleep. I hadn’t been sleeping well, as you can imagine. Just as I was about to drop off, I heard a familiar double beep sound spring from my I pad. I opened my eyes to see its screen lit up, casting an eerie shadow of my chair along the back of my room. For some reason, "Siri" had been triggered. After a moment, it double beeped again, and I saw the screen change. I reluctantly climbed out of my bed and strode over to the chair. The I pad displayed a list of suggested things to say to "Siri" to warrant a response. In the top right hand corner, it displayed the word that had been said:

“Help”

     Had I not been so tired I perhaps would have gotten worried, but at this point I just wanted to sleep. I clicked the I pad off and reasoned that it must be faulty. Climbing back into bed, I heard it double beep again. After a few seconds and the next double beep, it spoke:

“Talk to Siri”

     I was about to get up when it beeped again. Once more, after a few short seconds and two more beeps, it spoke:

“You can’t?”

     This was creeping me out now. Double beep again, and then again.

“Hmm… let me think” it said.

“Okay I found this on the web.” That was enough. Clearly there was a bug in the software. I got up and picked the I pad off the chair. I almost didn’t read the conversation, figuring it would just freak me out. I wish I hadn’t now. Here it is transcribed:

“Why can’t you hear me?”

“Talk to Siri”

“I can’t feel my legs”

“You can’t?”

“Why can’t he see it?”

“Hmm… let me think”

     It then proceeded to do a web search for “Why can’t he see it?”.

     I’ve turned my I pad off and buried it under clothes in the wardrobe. I don’t want to look at that thing again. It wasn’t a software bug, it can’t be. It’s too coincidental.

     My mum had died in a car crash. She lost both of her legs.

"What do I do?"

    First things first, my name is Yuri. Hi.

     I feel I should introduce myself since there was some confusion in my last entry. One commenter asked for my gender concerning the “Why can’t he see it?” remark. I don’t know who this refers to. My only guess would be my brother, Charlie, but I’ll get to that. First, I need to tell you all what happened last night.

     I’d decided after my original post to activate the I pad again. I left it on as I browsed the internet deep into the early hours of the next morning. I also left a voice recorder like some of you recommended sitting on my desk. Nothing happened. It got to about 2:30 am when I decided to see if talking would make any difference. I whispered to the empty air:

     “Mum?” I pressed the home button down until the two beeps sounded, and waited in silence. A few long seconds later, it double beeped again. Nothing. It came up with a list of things you could say, but nothing had been picked up by the I pad. I tried a couple more times to no avail. Then I started to realize how stupid I looked. I was angry. Not because my last possible chance to talk to my mother had gone, but because I’d believed it was really her. I threw my I pad back onto my chair and crawled into bed, sobbing.

     As you can probably guess, that’s when it happened again.

     The double beep, followed by another.

“Okay, I found this”

     I wasn’t missing the conversation this time. I leap from my bed and looked down at the I pad.

"Black mass"

"Okay, I found this"

"Another web search"

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I thought aloud. Siri responded with an odd sound. On the I pad it said that Siri had sighed at my question. The odd thing is I hadn’t pressed down the button. I decided to stare at the I pad until it happened again, my eyes locked on the home button. Sure enough, after a few seconds, the thing went down by itself, and another message began forming.

"It’s eating him"

“I’m not sure I understand” the I pad replied, and I shared its view. This was beginning to be too much for me. The atmosphere in my room had completely changed. It felt colder, much colder, like a breeze was flowing through my room that couldn’t have possibly entered from my closed window. I guess it freaked me out too much, because I turned off the I pad and clambered into bed, hiding under the covers like a scared child. I updated my previous entry on my phone, and thoughts began to race through my head. I felt like I could no longer justify this being a technical fault, the messages seemed too creepy. Perhaps it was a hacker, someone messing with me. Or perhaps it was the real deal. I just didn’t know what to think. Eventually, probably out of pure exhaustion by that point, I managed to fall to sleep.

     This morning I awoke looking to put the whole thing behind me. My sleep had seemed to make me feel rational, and I began to be sure that someone was perhaps fucking with me. I worked a few hours on my holiday university coursework before I remembered. The voice recorder.

     After a few minutes of self-debate, I decided to listen to the entries from late last night. I got to the point where Siri began to activate on its own, highlighted by the now ominous double beep. I could hear a faint voice, unintelligible and whispering, before Siri responded. That must be it. I began to even entertain the idea that it was my brother messing with me in some kind of sick joke. Perhaps he was in the toilet that separated our rooms, whispering at the walls so Siri would pick it up. He’s not the type for those kinds of jokes though, and he’s only 12.

     Eventually I reached the point when I threw the I pad on the chair and returned to bed. The voice that came out of the recorder next was… disturbing to say the least. It was female, but distorted, like it was shouting from the bottom of a well or you were on some wacky drug trip trying to listen to someone speak. The voice only uttered three words, but they seem to be ringing in my ears now.

“Help him, Ellie”

     I believe now that it is my mother. I just don’t know what to do. What the hell did she mean by ‘black mass’, was she trying to reference something? If any of you have any ideas, they'd be much welcomed. I just want this to be over now.

     My brother’s dead. I don’t know how I’m going to write this, but I have to. Someone’s after my family and people need to know what’s happening to us in case… the worst happens. It’ll take me a while to write this, but I’ll try to go through the last 24 hours chronologically.

     After my last post everyone began to suggest that the ‘black mass’ was referring to cancer. I immediately panicked and began bombarding my brother with questions, asking him if he had any lumps or was feeling unwell. He was pretty perplexed by the whole thing, but he did tell me that he’d been struggling to breathe over the last few days. That was enough for me. I forced him down to our local 24 hour medical care to get checked out. The doctor was reluctant to see him at first, assuming that it was his asthma which he’d had for a long time, but I was insistent and I wasn’t taking no for an answer. I didn’t care if we had to camp out outside the center; I was keeping my brother in range of a doctor.

     Eventually, my brother’s breathing began to get worse, and after being unable to find a cause and having had multiple breaths of an inhaler, the doctor decided to perform an emergency something-oscopy to see if anything was wedged in his throat. I didn’t really know what was going on but at least something was getting done.

     As they were rolling him into the operating room, he managed to look up to me and utter a few words through his strained breath.

“I love you sis.” A tear formed to my eye as I knelt down and kissed him on the head.

“Good luck” I whispered. They began to wheel him away when it happened. He started to convulse violently, with blood beginning to drip from the side of his mouth. I was frozen in horror but swiftly pushed out of the way by one of the doctors. They began to frantically operate on him, using all manner of machines to keep him alive. Yelling and buzzing echoed in my ears, but as everything fell apart around me, I only noticed one thing. My Siri had turned on in my pocket. This time, I didn’t need to look to know what she had said.

“I don’t understand ‘It’s killed him’, but I can search the web for it if you like”

     It was at this point that I caught a glimpse of the most horrifying thing I’ll ever see in my life. The skin on my brother’s throat began to just… dissolve. It looked like something was trying to force itself out, pushing from the inside and melting the cells in its way. Eventually, the skin had fully withered away, and green fluid came pouring out of the hole, a mix of blood and what looked like… acid. I fainted on the spot.

     When I awoke, I found myself lying on the sofa in the waiting room. A young doctor with a kind face was sitting beside me.

“I have some bad news” he said. I didn’t even hear his next words, though I didn’t need to. My brother was dead. Killed by whatever had dissolved or, eaten, his throat. I almost threw up at the thought of it.

     I was immobilized for the rest of the night. The doctors took me home, where my grandmother was still rocking on her chair. The doctors told her what had happened, but she simply looked at them with dead eyes before returning to staring out the window and sipping her tea. They seemed almost ready to take Grandma away to test her, but I told them a white lie that she was… not all there. Truth is she hadn’t really been since mum died, so it wasn’t technically a lie.

     I didn’t sleep that night. In the morning, I got phone calls from various people, mostly policeman, but I just listened and hardly said a word. Officers came to search Charlie’s room, but they couldn’t find anything of note.

     Eventually, I was left to my own silence. I couldn’t move for hours, just staring at my I pad. I wanted more than anything to communicate with my mum, or my brother. Anyone will do. Just to tell me what I had to do. What I had to do to get the fucker back that killed my brother.

     It was only a few hours before Siri provided the answer.

"His friend"

"I don’t know who your friend is…"

"The inhaler"

"Okay, I found this on the web"

     Desperately, I searched my brother’s room for his inhaler, before shortly realizing that it was in my pocket. I still had it from when he was using it at the doctor’s office. I examined it closely. It didn’t take long for me to notice what was wrong. Stuck to the inside of the inhaler was a thin mass of black substance. I tried to scrape it out, but it was stuck tightly to the inside of the mouthpiece. There was no telling what it could be without handing it into the police for whatever analysis they could perform, but first I had to see something. I held the inhaler out in front of me, facing horizontally, and pressed the button down. Along with the puff of medicine that spread from the mouthpiece, a thin disc of the black substance flew out with it. It wasn’t going particularly quickly, but quick enough so that it wouldn’t lose momentum for a while. It sailed far enough across my room that I couldn’t see it land. A wave of nausea fell over me as I realized that my brother had taken this inhaler around 10 times at the doctors.

     Had I quickened his death? Why would my mother tell me to help him if there was nothing I could do but make it worse?

     My phone buzzed and shocked me out of that line of thought. I walked over to it and picked it up, seeing the text that had just been sent to me. The number was withheld, though I had no idea how it was possible to do that with texts. The text… well, it’s better if I show you:

     I did the sensible thing last night it seems, for once. I went to the police, told them everything; well, almost everything. They were already investigating Charlie’s death as suspicious, but the inhaler and the text seemed to kick them into action. They’re currently trying to trace the number and analyze the inhaler. They haven’t finished DNA testing yet, but I can imagine I probably smothered it with mine fumbling with it yesterday. They’ve also been investigating my mother’s car crash, though they’re keeping hushed up about it. Grandma never really told us much about it, except that there were two more deaths and two injuries other than my mother. I didn’t do any research; I didn’t want to know. The only piece of evidence they don’t have is the one they could possibly section me for, my late night Siri chats. I also didn’t tell them about these posts. They probably won’t find out, and I need a place to write this down, to vent if anything. If something happens to me, this will at least be out here.

     Anyway, the police have placed my house under protection. I’ve got my friend Kathy staying over to keep me company. It’s nice speaking to somebody else who isn’t pretty much dormant or well… not there. I haven’t told her about my mum talking to me either; it’d just freak her out. She’s already doing me a massive favor by staying in targeted home; I don’t want to scare her more. My grandma’s gotten worse as well. She doesn’t even speak to me now, like she’s blocked off the world. Every now and then she’ll go to the fridge and eat, but besides that it’s like she’s a zombie. I’m really worried about her, but with everything going on I want to keep her close. For those in the comments who were suggesting it might be her doing this, it can’t be. She’s a bitter old woman but she would never do anything to hurt us.

     I have to say I’m fairly ashamed of what I did after Kathy had gone to sleep last night. It was stupid, irresponsible. But now I have a chance of ending it, a chance that wouldn’t have occurred had I not taken the risk.

     It was about 1:00 am, and I couldn’t sleep. Part of my brain was fixated on the horrifying image I’d seen the previous day. The other part was transfixed by what I’d heard before the mysterious text came in.

His friend

What friend? One of his friends did this to him? How, he was only 12? What 12 year old could do this? It took me a while before the disturbing and advantageous truth dawned on me. I could ask him.

     I took my I pad out of my room, being careful not to wake Kathy as I stepped over her. There was a police officer on watch downstairs, and our bathroom is right next to my room, where Kathy was lightly sleeping away the night. There were only two places I could go, my mum’s room… or my brother’s. Well, which one did I want to speak to?

     I hadn’t been in Charlie’s room since searching for the inhaler. It was eerie, and yet at the same it was calming. It still felt like Charlie was here. I opened up the I pad and set it down on the bed.

“Charlie, if you’re here, say something after the beep okay?” I tried to make my voice as soft as I could. I pressed down the home button. Two beeps. That wavy line twisted and turned as I waited. A few seconds later, his response came up.

"There’s a funny whistle when I breathe in, what is it?"

"My web search turned this up"

"I was almost in tears."

“Is mum there?”

"Yes"

“I thought so” Oh shut up Siri.

“Charlie, I need to know who your friend is. The one who…” I didn’t know what to say, how do you ask a child who’s responsible for his death?

“The one who put the black stuff in your inhaler”

"Danny"

     Danny. Our new neighbor.

     It was only a week ago that I first met the Richards. It was two weeks after my mum’s accident, and they’d just moved into the neighborhood. John was an old, American man with one arm. The other one had been lost in Vietnam. He was a friendly enough guy, polite and well-mannered, but just… off. I don’t know, he gave me the creeps. His son Danny though was adorable. He acted like his blood was made up of caffeine; jumping around his living room like the floor was actually lava. I came in with Danny after dropping him off, and was invited in by John for a cup of tea. I felt impolite to turn him down, so there I found myself, sat in his living room watching Danny and Charlie play while John was upstairs fetching photo albums to show me.

     Now I have to admit, I’m a snooper. I like to check out the people my little brother visits. I was only perusing his hallway for a few minutes when I found an open door that led into the basement. Peering in, I saw that it was littered with weird laboratory equipment, like a meth lab.

”Jesse we have to cook” I joked to myself. A hand was place on my shoulder, causing me to jump and swivel around. It was John, lurched over me with a menacing look on his face. There was no photo album to be seen.

”It’s rude to snoop around other people’s houses” he said, almost mockingly. There was a hint of glee in his eye, as if he was enjoying telling me off. I apologized, made an excuse and left. When I picked Danny up, I didn’t see him, just Danny frantically waving out the window.

     I hadn’t thought about Danny since then. He seemed a nice kid, if a little eccentric, but his dad… and that laboratory hiding below his house. It was too convenient. I had to check it out.

     Now the sensible thing to do would have been to tell the policeman downstairs. Of course, I had no way of explaining to him how I had acquired this information. My irrational mind decided that the rational thing to do was to grab a flashlight, climb out my window, drop onto my conservatory and down to my garden, then vault over the fence to the Richards house.

     It was an incredibly stormy night, so I couldn’t see much. I scanned the back wall, trying to spot an entrance to the basement hidden somewhere in the shadows. I found it nestled at the side of the conservatory, its doors already unlocked. If the owner was keeping secrets in his basement, he wasn’t doing it very well. I timed my entering of the basement with the crackle of thunder, making the doors slamming back down almost inaudible. As I crept down the stairs the darkness hit me like a wall. I reached in my pocket and lit up my vision with the flashlight. It was as I suspected. Before me on the working benches was an array of laboratory equipment; pots and flasks twisted at obtuse angles with bottles filled with all manner of fluids. Scanning the benches I caught a glimpse of scraggly looking pile of notes. Most of the notes were filled with complex equations and diagrams that I couldn’t get my head around, but the last page was definitely something I could understand.

     It was a letter, addressed to a Mr. Arkhin, from medical services. I recognized the name, but I couldn’t place it until I had finished reading the letter. As per Mr. Arkhin’ s request, the letter detailed the injuries and causes of death sustained by his family members in his accident. His daughter was killed by shrapnel piercing her throat all the way through. His wife was killed by slashed abdomen as she was flung onto a piece of glass upon impact. His mother, who was still alive, received massive brain trauma and subsequent brain damage. That was the moment I remembered. The accident. Mr. Arkhin was the other driver.

     We’d never heard about the other injuries or causes of death, only that there were two deaths and two injuries. Mr. Arkin must have the other injury. But why was this letter here?

     Then it hit me. John’s arm.

     I heard a creak upstairs. It was enough to shock me into action, and after scrambling up the papers and putting them on the desk, I crept back out towards the door. Trying to time it’s opening once more with the thunder, I threw it open just as the upstairs light came on, shining light into the piercing darkness of the basement. I leap out and shut the doors fast. My heart racing, I clambered back over the fence, hitting my head on the paved floor as I landed in my garden. I maneuvered our ladders up to my window, checking first that the officer wasn’t in the kitchen in front of me, and climbed up. I’m surprised I didn’t wake Kathy up as I fell back into my room, panting and soaking wet. I guess she isn’t such a light sleeper after all.

     This morning I sat and tried to comprehend what I’d read last night. ‘Pierced her throat all the way through’. I just couldn’t stop thinking about my brother and the hole now burned through his throat. If that was John… I was going to kill him.

     I began to well up with anger and sadness before I heard the landline ringing in the distance. The officer was patrolling outside, concerned about the movement of the ladders, so I answered it myself.

“You like snooping don’t you?” said the familiar polite voice. I took a while to respond.

“What do you want from us?”

“Come meet me, Ashen Park. 2:00 am, tomorrow. Bring your I pad.” With this he hung up. This was around six hours ago now. My I pad… so it was him. It had to be. He’s been fucking with me. Feeding me useless fucking information. He’s been taking big risks, but it’s all be part of his game.

     It’s over. Finally. I’ve lost my family, but it’s done. I can rest now. I’m alone, sitting in my room. I would love to tell you that the police managed to catch John Richards, or John Arkhin, whatever, and he’s now looking at a sizable jail sentence. I’d love to tell you that when I saw the John for who he was, I only had hate for him. Things are rarely so black and white in this world.

     After my last post, I panicked. It was only three hours before my meeting with my brother’s killer, but I just couldn’t do it. I sobbed uncontrollably as I tried to tell the officer what had happened over the last few nights. I had reason now to tell him about the Siri chats, since I was convinced at that point that John had been hacking my I pad. Soon after, there were at least 5 officers and 2 detectives listening to my story with watchful eyes. For some reason, it seemed they believed me, though they weren’t happy about my breaking and entering escapade the previous night. When I was finished, the lead detective, his name was Sanders, asked me the question I knew would follow. He asked me to go to the park.

     Within less than an hour I was wired and suited up. Bulletproof vest, panic button, earpiece – the works. The police had tried knocking on the door to see if John was in, but got no response. Since they couldn’t just barge in without a warrant, they had to get proof this way. Kathy had gone home earlier in the day, so my grandmother was left with 4 officers on guard at the house. The cliché blacked out car followed me at a distance as I approached Ashen Park. All was dark and there was no figure in sight. I decided to sit on the swings and wait for him in silence. Sitting there in the park brought back memories of me and my brother playing when we were younger, with my mum watching on concerned that we were going to break our legs or something ridiculous like that. I chuckled to myself through the tears.

      I waited almost an hour, but he didn’t show. I don’t whether he had seen the blacked out cars and freaked, or whether this was all a ruse to get to my grandmother. If he tried that, he’d run into a lot of trouble. My grandmother was safe.

     We returned to mine at around half 3 in the morning. My grandmother was soundly asleep and alive. The officers reported nothing unusual, and I figured that John had just skulked away into the shadows. For a brief moment, I thought that maybe it could be over. He could have gone away, frightened by the sight of the police, and would never come back. Kind of naïve I know.

     I’m not sure what happened next to get me to this point, but all I remember is waking up in a place that reeked of the vile smell of decay. I opened my eyes and examined my surroundings. I was in a large, dark room with the windows blacked out so no light could be let through. The only light sources were lanterns scattered across the various work benches along the walls. It looked oddly familiar to the basement, as the benches were lined with similar equipment. The only distinguishing feature was a group of monitors lined up along the back side of the hall. They were showing the inside of someone’s house; though I couldn’t make out whose from there. I assumed it was mine.

     That’s when I realized I was not alone. Past the monitors, barely illuminated by a flickering lantern, was a one-armed figure. He had his back to me, and appeared to be fiddling with something on one of the work benches. Behind him, and facing me from across the room, was a black haired figure. He was tired to a chair, and his head hung limp slumped over his knees. I couldn’t tell if he was out cold or just exhausted.

“Stand up” said the calm voice from across the room. John turned around as I obeyed. He held a kitchen knife firmly in his hand as he stared at me. His hands seemed to be shaking a little as he walked over to the slumped figure on the chair.

“Do you recognize him?” He pulled the unconscious figure’s head up. I didn’t recognize him, although he looked familiar. I shook my head.

“No? It’s your absentee father” he said coldly. I had never seen the man before in my life, but the familiarity was there. His eyes were the same deep green as my brothers, and he had the same oddly rounded ears as mine. I didn’t know for sure then, but that man was my father.

     Without another word, John slit my father’s abdomen open, spilling his guts out over the chair and onto the floor. I shrieked in horror as I cascaded back to the far wall. My father almost depressed like a balloon as he slipped off the chair, his insides still flowing from his body. John didn’t express any emotion at all. He simply stared at him, showing no indication of what he was thinking. Eventually, he turned around again and slotted the knife into his belt. I was still vomiting on the back wall, so when I stopped to look he was standing about a meter away holding an I pad that was undoubtedly mine. He held it up in front of him, before lowering it to speak.

“I can’t make it work.” With that, he threw the I pad into my lap. “Make them speak to me”

     I didn’t know what he meant at first, but then it all started to unravel in my head.

“I heard you, speaking to them. Your family.”

“How?”

“Little bugs in your house told me.” He turned his body to allow me to see a figure entering the dark room. It was Danny. He looked pale, and was walking in a slow paced fashion, almost limping. At first sight he seemed like a zombie.

“My boy,” he said, as he tucked Danny under his remaining arm, “my good little boy did what I asked him. Needed to give him some medicine first, make him… suggestive. Make him… forget what he saw. But he did it. Medicine makes him hyper in the day though, nightmare sometimes…” As John went off on a tangent I noticed the fear in Danny’s eyes. He was clearly conscious, but his father had drugged him in some way to make him into his tool.

“Got him to plant little buggies in your house, put poison in your precious Grandmother’s tea. Grandmother won’t have much to say anymore, will she Danny?” He chuckled, and released Danny, who meandered off to the side of the room.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, almost not expecting an answer.

“Your mother. She killed my family. Now I’m killing hers.” There was a silence where I dared not saying anything. “Now make it work.” He pointed to the I pad.

“I didn’t do anything they just spoke to me” I tried to explain. He looked angry; he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He grabbed my shirt and hauled me to my feet, then pushed me against the back wall.

“Make it work! Or I swear to God I’ll kill you.” There was nothing I could say to him to appease him. After a few seconds of silence he grabbed the I pad out of my hand and tossed it across the floor. Then he looked up, as if addressing the air, and shouted:

“If you don’t get my family to speak to me, I swear I’ll kill your daughter you bitch.” More silence. He twisted me around and held me by the throat now with his knife. I could feel him on the edge of slicing me open, with death slowly creeping towards me. I held my breath and closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable to come.

     The double beep sounded. John’s eyes darted sideways as his grasp on me slipped. It was enough. I elbowed him in the stomach, sending him falling back to the floor. Once he was down, I turned and jumped on him, trying to wrestle the knife from his hands. His face was screwed up in anguish as he fumbled with his hand to keep his grip on the knife. Then it happened.

     He contorted his hand to try and release the knife hilt from my grip, but accidentally twisted it towards him. The knife cut deep, and his throat was already bleeding out by the time I realized what had happened. I climbed off him as he dropped the knife to his side. He grabbed me again, pulling me close. His eyes were desperate and tearful. Through strained breath, he spoke:

“I gave them justice, didn’t I? I was right, wasn’t I?” He looked helpless, and his eyes longed for me to tell him that he was right. I stayed silent. It would be the last shred of revenge to happen here. He slipped back to the floor, releasing his grip. His eyed rolled back as he breathed his last breath. I closed them as I felt a hand touch shoulder.

It was Danny.

     I’m at home now, typing this all up. I’ve spent most of the day at the police station, which is why this update is late. Danny said nothing to me as we left the room, which turned out to be part of an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. He’s been questioned all day and remarkably, he told the police the truth. I might be facing a few breaking and entering charges, but the officers have assured me there is no way I could be charged with murder. The officers also told me about what happened before I disappeared. All four policemen on duty had been knocked out at our home by what they described as a shadow. I don’t think John was lying about being in Vietnam; they didn’t even see him. They also told me that John Arkhin had gone missing recently, not seen since a few days after the accident. He’d suffered with psychologically issues all of his life, and it seems the accident finally pushed him over the edge. For all he’s done to me, I can’t help but pity him. Events had crafted him into a vile human being, but I just couldn’t hate him.

     I want to thank everyone on here. The police still don’t know this is up; I suspect they will eventually. All of your help has been greatly appreciated, and your kind words have helped me through this.

     As for my Grandma, she’s doing okay. They’ve placed her temporarily in a local home until they can find a better place for her. The doctors are working on trying to counter whatever John had given her to cause the damage in her brain. Hopefully they’ll find a way to bring her back to me, so I’m not alone.

     And as for my mum and brother… I only got one more message. One more message that fills me with more hope and joy than anything in my life ever has before.

 

We’re okay now.....