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EXHIBIT J

Note written by Sara Donoghue

Writing is barely recognizable as Sara Donoghue’s handwriting. The note is sloppy, spilling over the lines on the page.

Miranda Ryder died choking on her own blood. She died alone and afraid and she knew that no one was coming for her and she knew that her sister was a useless, pathetic nobody who couldn’t save her.

ShE DIeD BEcAuSE OFYoU

PART IV

THE GIRL

EXHIBIT K

Newspaper clipping from theBriar Glen Beacon

November 1, 1983

Satanic rituals or a prank gone wrong? The residents of Briar Glen were treated to quite the sight last night when a troop of girls dressed as the infamous Lucy Gallows cavorted through the town, leaving an odd litany of graffiti messages in their wake. With recent disappearances blamed on the popular “game” connected to the same legend, some residents were on edge, but the girls were identified as the cheerleading squad at our own Briar Glen High School. Senior Jenny Hudson organized the Halloween parade.

When asked what inspired the antics, Hudson said, “I’ve been having dreams about her. She’s waiting at the end of the road. She’s been waiting a long time. I hear her whispering. She’s calling. More and more.”

Junior Candace Thompson had a less dramatic take. “We just thought it would be fun and spooky. Halloween pranks are traditional, right?”

22

MEL AND KYLEcome to get me. I have run ahead of the reality of what happened, but now I walk back with them to face it.

We cannot do anything to honor Jeremy. We can’t bury him. We have no shroud to drape over his body, but Anthony has covered him as best he can with his coat. Becca sits cross-legged nearby, hands limp in her lap, staring at nothing. I force myself to walk to where Jeremy lies, where Anthony stands beside him.

He was never my friend. I didn’t even like him—I thought he was a jerk. And he was. But he went with us onto the road, when he didn’t have to. And Trina—maybe she was running from what she’d done, when she stepped onto the road. But I don’t think so. I think if everyone else had run away, she would have been the last one there, ready to face anything to be a good friend.

“We should—we should say something,” Anthony says. He stands with his hands tucked into his pockets, his head bowed.

“Why?” Kyle demands. “Is saying something going to change any of this?”

“Jeremy was a hero,” Anthony says, pressing on regardless. “He was—he was a good person. Trina, too. They were both good people.”

“Stop,” I say. Anthony’s head jerks up. His look is questioning, wounded. The air is brittle around us. “You can’t make it matter by saying a few nice words.”

“Sara—” Mel steps forward.

Kyle shakes his head. Tears well in his eyes and rake down his cheeks, but he doesn’t seem to notice them. “She’s right. Two people just died to save me. How does that math work?” he demands.

“It’s not an equation,” Mel snaps.

“Either one of them would have done it again. In a heartbeat.” Anthony swallows. “And thatdoesmean something.”

“Only if we survive,” Kyle says. His voice is bitter and without hope. “Only if we get home.”

“You will.” The words surprise me, coming from my own mouth. “You all will. I won’t let anyone else die.”

“Weall will, you mean,” Mel says. I don’t answer.

“The road won’t let us go easily,” Becca says.

“I didn’t say it would be easy, I said I would do it,” I say. I walk back to the preacher’s book, lying inert on the road. I pick it up. The cover is leather, softened with age. The words whisper to me, promise and pull.