Disappeared

Those Bullies are gone. I read it in the newspaper, and everyone has been giving me funny looks.
Do they think I did it? What even happened to them?

Why the hell did those four have to just up and fucking disappear.
Here's the newspaper article.

I looked at the photo on the bottom of the page. That man... is He real? I...

I described the night of the fire. The figure in the flames. Why do I know so strongly that these men, the Tall Man and the Stalker are one and the same? Maybe I wasn't just hallucinating?

No. I have to visit my Doctor. There's no Tall Man. It isn't real.

It isn't.

_Ramona.

sixth form.

Despite my... issues, regarding my emotional health, I do take courses at a Sixth Form...

...Rather unsuccessfully. Y'see, I'm kind of new there. Despite living in the area for most of my life, I only started at this Sixth Form Last month... and... how to put this? I'm something of a black sheep.
Most people stay away from me. A few Bully me... in subtle ways. Fewer still are nice to me.
And then there's Chloe. Chloe Faramond. She's... different, let's say - but intelligent, funny and good-looking. That description makes me sound like I fancy her... what can I say? She's pretty much the only friend I've had since coming here though... everyone else doesn't seem to notice me much, or... look at me with this weird... thing on their face. It's like I've been marked by a serial killer and they think it'll rub off on them... but not Her. She's nice enough, anyway.

Chloe understands... it's weird. after my parents... y'know, left, let's say, people understood me less and less, but she just... gets it. I don't know, off on a tangent again.

There has been an issue though. Like I've said, people have... "bullied" me in the past. One of the girls, called Veronica is usually the ringleader... and there she was today.
"Oi, fuckface. Yeah, you, OrphanBitch"
I turned away.
"Scared of the Big Tall Man?"
I asked her what she meant.
"You used your real name on your blog, guess being loopy and losing mommy and daddy makes you see things, right? You're so stupid."
I decided not to reply. Veronica's disgusting onslaught of... hatred was met with a cold stare.
"I'm fucking talking to you. Don't look at me like that, Orphan-Bitch. I don't think your big scary Tall Man is gonna come and burn me, is he?"
I swear... just for a moment, there was something. Stood, outside the class windows of my sixth form... But when I turned to look, nothing. Maybe she was right. I'm just loopy.
"Why don't you go bum Chloe if you love her so much?"
This was one of her favorites. She's a damn homophobic shit, I tell you.
"Why don't you fuck off?" I replied. This took her by surprise.
"Watch out, the psycho can talk!" She announced with malice.
I felt that... presence again. Like something was infringing on the edge of my vision. I walked away. I later learnt that at this point, my nose began to bleed. It took about an hour to stop. I hate nosebleeds.

Tangents, again. Damnit.
I've not had any real hallucinations or delusions, so this medication Doctor Mercier prescribed me must be really good. Y'see, the Arsonist who attacked my home when I was nothing more than a child... they haven't been found. I was. I was found in the middle of a burnt out house, surrounded by my burnt possessions and family. Charred bone and flesh around me. I don't really remember it. At first, police thought the Arsonist had left me there specifically... It would make sense after all, if I was either targeted or not targeted, they'd leave me out, right?

But my original doctor at the time, Doctor Brown, suggested it was a delusion. That I had gone there, on my own. That most of what happened that night, walking imperviously through the flames, the Tall Man who stood enshrouded by them, and whatever had let me to lie surrounded by my dead family were all constructs of my mind to deal with the stress, torment and pain.

Maybe i should talk more about what happened. Dr. Mercier did say to let it all out, right? To be honest? but knowing people like Veronica read this... no. not yet. i dont think so.

It's getting late. I've typed this too long. And I swear, I saw something. just a moment ago. corner of my eye again. i clearly need sleep...

I need some way of signing these damn things off.
Peace out? No...
Seeya? Meh...
Seeya later, Shitlords? That's probably the best of them...

~Ramona Carrie Lake. June twenty-fourth, 2015, 01:02 in the morning. shit, 01:03.

Ummm... Hello, I s'pose

Hi.

I'm receiving treatment from a Doctor named Josiah Mercier. A colleague of his gave me this weird Google+ account to use. He runs his own blog thing, I think, but I won't look into it. It'll probably just be some boring psychiatric research...

Dr. Mercier told me to be honest. Noone's going to see this anyway, right?
Okay.
My name is Ramona. Ramona Carrie Lake. Most of my friends called me the Loyalist because I never left them when they needed me. Or something like that. I'm nineteen years old. I live in England. I'm not a girly girl.

I'm receiving treatment since the death of my parents. It hit me hard, psychologically. They died in a house fire. Along with my whole life up until this point. After I saw my parents... die...

This is really damn hard to write.

After I saw them die, Doctor Mercier says I began to break from reality. I saw a tall man, wandering through the burning wreck of my house. Although the police initially believed this man to be the Arsonist who began the fire, noone could recall seeing anyone matching His description near the area.
From what I remember... He was wearing something dark. Maybe a black coat or something. Possibly a hoody, since I couldn't see His face. Mercier thinks this figure is some part of my subconcious, trying to find something to project all my pain onto.

But I heard him having a phone call. I shouldn't type it here but I will...
He was arguing with the guy I reckon gave me this account, Cole something or other.

"No. No, it isn't. It can't be, I'm telling you. Why? There was no-one bloody there! The thing you say your patients saw, the thing you say is following them, it isn't real! No, shut it Cole. She's my patient. You and your psuedoscience can fuck off!"

That's the only time I ever heard Josiah Mercier swear. He seems so nice so often.

Anyway... bit of a tangent there. I have a photographic memory, y'see.

Oh, and I enjoy photography. Not majorly or anything, but it's helped me deal with the last two years... even if my camera is broken.

Actually, speaking of that... anyone know what could cause this weirdness?

This weird error doesn't happen in most of the photos taken on my camera... Any help would be appreciated.