“I’m sorry.” Tears welled up in my eyes, and I brushed them away. “I thought I could fix this by myself. I thought if I told you what was going on, you’d think you were right about putting me in danger.”
Dad opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “And yeah, okay, so I did get hurt tonight. But the Thing has been real to me since I was like eight. It’s always haunted me, even back in Chelsea. What happened just now has nothing to do with the show, I swear. It . . . it was going to happen no matter what. I had to face it.”
I was breathing heavily by now, and Grandma put a supportive hand on my back. Dad rubbed his forehead wearily, looking from me to the corner.
“So this . . . thing,” he said finally. “You said it’s a different version of yourself that your . . . your mother would prefer over you?” His voice broke a little.
“Yeah.” I smiled tightly. “It’s hard to explain.”
“I’m listening.”
“But Jess is probably waiting for you,” I said. “They’re filming, you should—”
“Kat,” Dad interrupted gently. “They can film without me for a few minutes. Tell me everything.”
So I took a deep, shaky breath.
And I started from the beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MOVING ON
Post: So Here’s the Thing [Vlog]
Comments (367)
[Transcript]
Hi, everyone! Kat Sinclair here. I started typing out a long post about the whole doppelganger thing, but then Oscar suggested I do a vlog instead. Which I . . . well, I really didn’t want to do, because in case it isn’t obvious, I hate being on camera. But sometimes facing your fears is a good thing, so . . . here goes.
On my first day with Passport to Paranormal, Roland told me making the show was a no-win situation. If they found proof of paranormal activity, people would say they faked it. If they did fake something, people would get mad—like the exploding lightbulb in the first episode. And if they did nothing, well, you guys might think the show was boring.
Turns out running this blog is kind of the same. I’ve posted photos and videos on here of what I believed was evidence of paranormal activity. Some were real. Some turned out to be different from what I thought they were. But I didn’t fake any of them. I know some of you will never believe me, and that’s okay. But I promise I’ve never lied on my blog.
And I’m still a skeptic. Most of the time, when something that might seem paranormal happens, there’s a logical reason for it. But not always.
This should be the part where I explain exactly what’s been going on the last few weeks. I know my behavior has seemed a little weird . . . and that’s a nicer way of putting it than a lot of you guys in the comments. There’s a reason for it. And yeah, it’s a paranormal one.
But I’m not going to talk about it.
Because it’s personal. And because I know not everyone will believe it. And others will say I’m just doing it for attention, or it’s publicity for the show. It’s hard, because I want to defend my dad from fans, and supposedly “professional” reporters, who claim he’s a bad father.
Here’s what I will say about the last few weeks: The doppelganger you saw in the Yongheng Bridge episode was real. It left comments on the P2P forums and other places online pretending to be me. It did show up in the Ryang Psychiatric Hospital when we were filming the finale, and it did try to hurt me, but I’m fine. And it’s . . . well, I’m not sure where it is now. But I haven’t seen it since.
But you won’t see any of that. In fact, you won’t see my dad or me much at all in the second half of the episode, because he was busy taking care of me. He’s a great host, but he’s an even better dad.
Here’s another thing Roland told me my first day: The reason people are drawn to Sam Sumners is that he’s haunted. And you know what I realized? We’re all haunted by something. You probably are, too, if you’re a fan of a ghost-hunters show. We all have secrets, skeletons in our closets, things that follow us no matter how hard we try to forget about them. Maybe they’re paranormal and maybe they’re not, but to the person they’re following, they’re real. Sam knows this, and that’s what makes him such a great medium. It’s not really about communicating with spirits. It’s about listening to people who are ready to talk about who or what is haunting them. And it’s about believing them, even if they don’t have “proof.”
That’s what I’ve learned since I joined Passport to Paranormal. And I’m looking forward to helping more people—and ghosts—move on next season, and telling you all about their stories right here on The Kat Sinclair Files.
Whether or not you believe is up to you.
OSCAR and I filmed the video for my last blog post of the season the day after the Ryang investigation. Dad approved it right away, and I published it. Then I closed the laptop and spent the rest of the afternoon with Oscar.
We went back to the market and bought “Heart and Seoul” T-shirts for Jamie and Hailey. We drank two giant bubble teas each, then found an arcade with Dance Dance Revolution to help us burn off the sugar rush. We spent almost two hours walking on the stone path of the beautiful old fortress just a few blocks from our hotel, talking about summer, Oscar’s next therapy session with Roland, my mom, his dad, Trish and Mark, Thiago, and basically anything other than the Thing and what had happened in room 313. Until we found a little bench overlooking the small park inside the fortress and sat, and Oscar said:
“I knew something was wrong this time.”
I glanced at him. “This time?”
“Yeah, in room 313.” Oscar exhaled, and I could see his breath in the chilly air. “After I left you in there, I was almost to the stairs when I felt . . . déjà vu. Like I was back in Daems, right before Emily jumped out of that cell. Except this time, I knew something bad was about to happen.”
“Oh.” I waited, watching him squeeze his gloved hands into fists, then flex his fingers, over and over. Squeeze, flex. Squeeze, flex.
“So I ran back to the room, and . . .”
“Found me on the floor,” I finished. “You were right.”
“No.” Oscar shook his head. “I mean, yes, I was right. But you weren’t on the floor.”
“What?”
He looked at me. “You were standing in the corner. Really, really still, like a statue. It freaked me out, so I called your name, and . . . and you started falling over. You almost fell into the shelf, but I caught you.”
My mouth fell open. “Seriously? That’s . . . I don’t remember that.” I paused, picturing the scene he’d described. “Do you think . . . do you think all of that stuff in the other room 313 happened in my head?”
“No.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oscar, come on. You don’t have to pretend—”
“Your camera,” he interrupted. “I saw you taking pictures right before I left, then five seconds later I came back in and you weren’t holding it anymore. And there’s those cuts on your hands, too. Maybe when I walked back into room 313, it was right when you walked out of the other one. I don’t know. But whatever happened, you went . . . somewhere.”
I pulled off one of my mittens and studied the bandages on my palm, remembering how hard the Thing had shoved me, the way the shelf had rocked back and forth, sending the bottles crashing down on me. Then I looked up at Oscar.
“I could have really gotten hurt,” I told him. “If you hadn’t shown up, and I’d fallen into the shelf—the real one. It could’ve been a lot worse than a few cuts on my hands.” When he shrugged, I nudged him with my elbow. “No, seriously. You said you keep replaying the Emily thing because you should’ve reacted faster when she attacked us. Like you should’ve known something was wrong before it happened. And this time . . . you did.”
Oscar smiled a little. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
“Thank you,” I said. He rolled
his eyes, but I could tell he was pleased.
“You’re welcome.”
Once the sun had set, we headed back to the hotel and arrived just as Lidia and Roland showed up carrying several bags of takeout. We went up to Lidia’s room and spread out a buffet on the desk: different kinds of spicy pork and chicken, sticky rice, pickled vegetables, and tons of kimchi. Mi Jin put on Return to the Asylum, and Grandma entertained everyone with her commentary, inserting behind-the-scenes anecdotes and adding inappropriate punch lines whenever her character spoke. Jess kept giggling at Dad, who struggled with his metal chopsticks and finally gave up, using one like a fork to stab his chicken. Sam loved the movie, to Grandma’s delight, and she immediately put in the DVD of the prequel when the first one was finished.
We were almost to the part where Grandma’s character knocks out a nurse and steals her uniform when Dad caught my eye and pointed to the clock on the nightstand. “Almost nine,” he mouthed, and I nodded.
Oscar followed me out, but neither of us spoke until we were in the hall. “The first one was good, but I don’t know about the second one,” Oscar said as we headed to me and Dad’s room. “How can she play the Warden? The Warden was the villain who killed her character in the first movie!”
“Yeah, a lot of people really hated that,” I said with a grin. “It only makes sense if the first movie was all a hallucination in the Warden’s head.”
“So weird.” Oscar shook his head, following me into the room. “Hey, what’s that?”
He pointed to a familiar zombie snowman gift bag sitting on my bed. I grinned as I picked it up and flipped over the tag.
KitKat,
Try not to take this one into the spirit realm, okay?
Love, Grandma
Oscar peered at the note. “Ooh, new camera?”
“I think so,” I said, pulling the box out of the bag. Elapse E-500 was printed across the top in bright yellow letters, along with a ton of words in Hangul. Eagerly, I ripped off the tape sealing the lid. “It’s the latest model! How’d she get it so fast?”
“Mi Jin mentioned an electronics market not far from here,” Oscar said. “Your grandma must’ve gone there this morning.”
A sudden beeping melody caused us both to jump.
“Well, here goes nothing.” I handed Oscar the Elapse and hurried over to the laptop. A message on the screen read: Accept video chat from MonicaMills? I clicked Yes, and a moment later, my mom’s face filled the screen.
“Kat!”
“Hi, Mom.” I smiled back at her, then waved when a pair of bright eyes peered over her shoulder. “Hi, Elena.”
“Elena, sweetie, eat your breakfast,” Mom said, turning away to lift my future stepsister and plop her into her booster seat. “Sorry about that. So!” She leaned forward and gave me an expectant smile. “How’s Seoul? Were you excited to see your grandmother?”
“Yeah, really surprised.” I glanced in the mirror at Oscar’s reflection. He was lying on the bed, pretending to examine the Elapse but eyeing my mom curiously. “We’re having lots of fun. It’s, um . . . it’s too bad you couldn’t make it.”
Mom’s face tightened a little, confirming my suspicion that she’d been hoping Dad and Grandma wouldn’t tell me that she was supposed to come, too. I wondered how many little secrets they’d kept from me in the last thirteen years to protect Mom, and waited to feel the familiar wave of anger at her. But it didn’t come. I just felt disappointed and sad.
And kind of sorry for her. That was . . . new.
“Yes, well,” Mom said, leaning over to pick up a spoon Elena had dropped. “I’m so sorry about that, but it’s just been crazy here lately, you know?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“So Grandma tells me you and your father might be moving back into the old house?” Mom asked lightly. “I bet Trish and Mark will be thrilled to have you back!”
“Actually, Dad and I talked about that this morning.” I took a deep breath. “We’re going to sell it.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “Oh? He and I talked last week, and he said he was leaning toward taking a job in Cincinnati.”
“He turned it down. He said he’d call you tomorrow,” I added quickly, “but that it was okay for me to tell you. He’s staying with the show.”
“Oh! That’s . . .” Mom’s phone buzzed, vibrating next to Elena’s cereal bowl. She glanced at it, tapped at the screen, then smiled at me again. “That’s great! I bet you’re excited. But you’ve both got a few months off until you start filming the next season, right?”
“Yeah.” I shifted in my chair. “We’re going to stay with Grandma until after your wedding, then, we’re, uh . . . we’re going to L.A. with her.”
“That’ll be a fun trip!”
“No, it’s not a trip, not exactly.” I bit my lip, trying not to laugh at the sight of Oscar’s reflection doing a happy dance, waving his arms and bouncing up and down on the bed. “We’re going to look at apartments. Or houses. Just to see if we’d like it there.”
My heart thumped as I watched my mother’s face carefully. I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I expected, or wanted. Dad and I had decided this morning that if he was going to stay with Passport to Paranormal, we still needed a home base—but that could be anywhere. And it wasn’t Chelsea, not anymore. I’d still miss Trish and Mark, but they were my online best friends now. My real-life best friend was right behind me, pulling silent, ridiculous faces at me in the mirror. (He’d looked up train tickets between Los Angeles and Portland, where he lived with Lidia, the second I told him about L.A., much to Dad and Lidia’s amusement.)
The only thing that still made Chelsea feel like home was Grandma. And she was moving to L.A. to start filming her production company’s first movie. If Dad and I were going to try to find a new home base, we agreed it was as good a place to start as any.
Of course, I wouldn’t see Mom nearly as often as I would if we moved back to Chelsea. Part of me wanted her to acknowledge that. Maybe even be a little upset about it. Tell me she’d miss me too much to live halfway across the country from me and beg me to reconsider.
But she just brushed her bangs out of her eyes and smiled. “L.A., wow! How are you feeling about that?”
“Pretty excited,” I replied. It was a massive understatement. “You’ve been a few times, right?”
Mom nodded. “With Grandma, when I was little. Loved it—we did all the touristy stuff, Disneyland, everything. I bet it’s changed a lot, though.”
“You can come visit us.” I kept my voice carefully light. “It’d be fun!”
“Of course I will!” Mom said brightly. “As soon as Anthony and I get back from Cancún, we’ll start planning a trip out there.”
And that was it. No protests, no pleading. She was fine with her daughter traveling the world and living in another state. She had Anthony and Elena and a whole new life, and for right now, I only fit in with e-mails and video chats and the occasional visit. That was how much she was willing to try.
Which was fine. Because now I could see the difference between Dad and Mom clearly. They’d both made mistakes—and so had I—but Dad always put me first. Mom put herself first.
And that wasn’t my fault.
Mom and I talked for another fifteen minutes, mostly about a photo shoot she’d just done for the zoo. I told her about the thoughtography exhibit I’d gone to with Jamie, and she laughed and rolled her eyes, just like I knew she would. The horror-loving gene must have skipped Mom somehow, because she was never into paranormal stuff like Grandma and I were.
After we said goodbye, I twisted around in my chair. “Hey, mind if I . . .” I trailed off when I realized Oscar was snoring. He was sprawled on his back, the Elapse lying on the comforter next to him. Smiling, I turned back to the laptop and logged into my e-mail.
From: [email protected]
t
To: [email protected], [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: That blog post
Hey!! Sorry about that last e-mail. It’s a LOOOOONG story but I swear all the weird “Real Kat Sinclair” drama is over. I’d rather tell you about it in person in a few weeks. Can’t wait to see you guys!
<3 Kat
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: doppelgangers are the WORST
I don’t know if you read my last blog post yet but OMG. You won’t believe what happened at Ryang. Actually, you WILL believe it, because you believe everything paranormal. Even when it’s totally ridiculous (and sometimes fake). :)
Can we video chat sometime this week so I can tell you about it? Hailey, too! I’ll give you a preview:
1. My doppelganger totally attacked me
2. In a freaking PORTAL
3. I’m pretty sure I had an actual out-of-body experience (I looked it up on the P2P Wiki)
<3 Kat
PS: Dad’s in for next season
PPS: We’re going to look for apartments in L.A.
PPPS: There’s a pretty cool-looking cemetery in Hollywood that would be great for an episode of Graveyard Slot. Or a third date. ;)
I started to close the laptop, then opened my blog instead. I stared at the video, but didn’t hit play. I’d already watched it with Dad right before I posted it. My hands hadn’t even started sweating at the sight of myself on the screen, which I guess was progress. There were 237 comments pending, so I logged into my dashboard and started scrolling through, clicking Approve next to each one. As usual, most of the commenters were from the P2P forums, although I’d gained several new followers, too. Their comments ranged from support to confusion to disbelief, but nothing rude or trollish. Then I got to the last one.
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Final Girl Page 15
