Update #2

It's been quite a while since I updated this. I could lie and be optimistic. I could say I've been busy following up on a lead to Hannah, but that would be bullshit, and more importantly, it wouldn't get me any closer to her. So I'll be honest: I haven't been on here for several days because I haven't felt like it. The experience with Hannah's parents has left me feeling discouraged. People who used to be friends to Hannah and myself tell me I'm acting crazy, that Hannah's gone because she wants to be away from me. They say I'm practically stalking her, and I know now that her parents believe the same. None of them believe me when I tell them that she's in danger and it's not me she's running from. They won't even listen to me. In the past couple of weeks I've even given serious thought to letting the whole thing go. To letting Hannah go. I know now that was a mistake. Maybe it's paranoid of me, but I've even begun to wonder if the decision was entirely mine, or if I was being led to it somehow. That sounds so stupid now that I've written it, but I won't take it back. Hannah didn't trust me in the end. Sometimes I wonder if she was right not to.

The situation came to a head of sorts several days ago. I received a visit from two police officers. Hannah's parents' house was vandalized and, not surprisingly, her parents pointed the finger at me. Her mother claimed she'd even seen me outside that night, staring at her through the window. They have a shed beside the house and its windows were smashed in. Rocks were thrown at the house. Hannah's father found them in the grass the next morning after he spent all night hounding the police. They were just rocks taken from the side of the road, nothing special about them.

I thought maybe Hannah's parents did it themselves. They know I've been trying to find her. I suspect that someone, probably Geoff or Mark or maybe even both of them, told them I'm trying to find where she is. But the police showed me a few photographs of the damage, and one of them showed something that wasn't caused by just throwing rocks, and there's no way in hell her parents could have done this one. At the back of the house, whoever was trying to scare them left some graffiti on the wall in black paint. It was the outline of the man Hannah and I had seen in the park. The man we saw everywhere after that. The man I sti/ll dream about. He had no face, just a blank painted circle. He had no hands, just arms ar/ms that reached and faded out into nothing.

The police are satisfied that I had nothing to do with the what happened, despite Hannah's parents IDing me as the vandal. I asked them if I could have a copy of the picture of the graffiti. It was a weird question and they reacted accordingly. I know I shouldn't have done it. I think maybe they think I was just being an asshole. I'm afraid to go see it myself, if Hannah's people haven't washed it off yet, becaus I know they'll be looking for me. I'm keeping an eye on the local newspapers to see if there's a report on it.

Hannah never told her parents about the man in the suit. At least she said she didn't. I don't understand how they could know anything about it. I don't think they broke their own windows now. I know they didn't. There was someone else outside their house that night, and that someone was not me. I was nowhere near the house.

But now that I've seen what was left behind the house I can't help thinking that Hannah's mother wasn't lying when she said the person who did it looked like me. I feel like I'm going to have a panic attack any minute.

What the hell is going on?

Hannah, there's only a slight chance that you'll ever read this, but I need you right now. I need you to come back. I need you to tell me where you are so I can come to you. I don't want to be alone in this town anymore.

Update #1

The past several days have been hell.  Our former friends, now incapable of calling me a psychotic ex to my face or on this blog, decided to show this blog to Hannah's family. In turn, they called the police. There's nothing they can do, of course. There is nothing wrong with me looking for her, especially not when they insist on inaction. There's nothing wrong with me looking for her.

I'm home finally. Will post again once I've had time to rest and get my wits about me. 

Email

I don't know who's reading this.  I thought no one was, but this morning I got an email from someone who knows I'm looking for Hannah.  That's what I hope it is, at least. But if this person knows Hannah, I don't think they're on her side.  If this is a prank, whoever did it should know that when I find you, there will be more than just hell to pay. 

The email address was obviously false, so I looked at the email header and the IP address was 127.0.0.1. The subject line was "holiday wis\hes". What the person wrote and the way they wrote it makes no sense, but they attached a picture along with it that made my heart stop.  I'm posting both below:
---
m\rry chr\stmas\ & a hap/y new ye\r

against babylon t\he sea rises she is overw/helmed by the roaringwaves

---

I have no idea what this is supposed to mean.  Obviously the photo has been manipulated, so I can't say for sure, but it looks like Hannah.  God, it looks like her. 

But now I know someone knows about my search.  Knowing doesn't help.  

I'm so scared for her. 

Reaching out

I said I was going to get more proactive about this. My attempts to call Hannah's parents yesterday made it clear that I'm not going to get any help for us if I don't start speaking louder. This isn't just to Hannah anymore, this is to anyone who finds this page, anyone who might have contact with her in any way.  Whoever you are, if you're with her, I hope you're helping her until I can. And I hope you're still untouched by whatever it is that's after us.  Another hope I have is that maybe there's someone out there who can shed light on what's going on. Is this happening to anyone else? We can't be alone. I know that we're not.

So to anyone reading, I should give some information. You can choose to believe me or not.

My name is Cam, obviously. Hannah is my girlfriend.  She disappeared on October 16th. She told me she was leaving but she didn't tell me where she was going.  She said she hoped that if she left, that if she got the hell away from everyone who knows her, she might be able to shake off what's been happening to us. I don't know where she went.  I've never gotten along very well with her family, and I think they blame me for what they think is Hannah's illness, so they won't give me any information they might possibly have.  Hannah isn't sick, though.  Not unless the entire world is.

We saw the man, or the thing that looks like a man, the first time in August.  We went for a walk in the park by the river at twilight. The streetlamps by the walkway came on, but there was one that wasn't working.  As we got closer we could see a man in a black suit standing under it.  Both of us knew something wasn't right about him.  He was very tall and thin. It was his arms that were wrong. They were too long, his hands went down to his knees.  He was watching us.  At least we felt like he was watching us. He was watching us, but he wasn't looking at us.  We couldn't see his eyes, or even dark shadows where his eyes should have been.  He didn't seem to have a face at all. He lifted one of his long arms and opened his hand as if to welcome us. 

That's when Hannah's nose started bleeding.  When we looked back at the man, he was gone and the lamp where he'd been was working. 

We thought at first that it was just some creep hanging out in the park. We actually got to believe that for a few days.  And then a week later we saw him again, this time as we were driving home from dinner one night. He was standing in the open playground beside the elementary school, a tall shadow in the fog.  The lights around the field revealed no facial features. We sped home and locked the doors. 

And then we saw him again, and again, and again.  We began seeing him separately, in different places and at different times.  We started seeing him in the day. A few times we called the police.  They couldn't do anything.

We both got very, very sick. I started throwing up every time I ate.  Hannah started having blackouts. Whenever she'd wake up she said she'd felt like something very cold was wrapped around her.  We both had coughing fits.  No doctor was able to find anything wrong with us. 

He's been stalking us since.  Our friends won't believe us.  Things came to a head in October when things in our house started showing up in places other than where we'd left them.  And some things showed up that had never been there before, photographs, notes, a couple of newspaper clippings that looked very, very old and smelled like mildew.  And always the man appeared to us, and always there were the dreams.  Consuming us.  Welcoming us. 

Hannah couldn't take it anymore.  She said she had to make herself disappear. She took all her pictures off my computer. She took all her notebooks, her cell phone, her laptop, and even the things that appeared in our house and burned them outside in the garden.  Someone called the police, but Hannah was gone before they arrived.  As far as I know, no one has seen or heard from her since. 

I'm going to find her.  No matter where I have to go or what I have to do.  I won't let her face this alone. 

If anyone knows where she is, please take care of her until I can.  Please tell her. And tell her to remember the mark.

Christmas

I'm alone today.  I miss you, Hannah. I love you. But more than anything I hope you're safe. I hope you're able to have some peace today of all days.  Remember the mark.

I tried calling your parents again, and yo/ur brother. They hung up when they heard my voice. 

Merry Christmas, Hannah.

Impatience

I'm starting to feel nervous and aggravated as hell. I think this was a stupid idea. What did I think? That you'd somehow psychically know I'd made a stupid blog to look for you? That you'd magically stumble across it somehow? I don't even know if you have the internet wherever you are, and even if you do, how the hell would you find this?

I've had this blog for about a week. I haven't heard anything useful because of it. I don't care what our so-called friends say. They don't know what happened to us.  We can't make them believe it. I had my hopes up. But I'm not being active enough. And after the dream I had last night, I know that I can't take a passive role anymore. I'm going to try to get this out there any way I can, even if I make a fool out of myself.

Because people don't just disappear. Someone knows what happened to them.  And someone knows where you are.  Someone besides that thing. Someone out there has seen you, even if only in passing.

I'm going to find you, no matter where you are and no matter what I have to do. I'm going to find you and we're going to beat this.  Whoever or whatever he is, I won't let him hurt you.  Even if it kills me.

So-called friends and comments

After receiving a few comments from Geoffrey and Mark advising me to give up on my search, I'm going to be moderating the comments on here, and will allow only those that are somehow useful.  Nothing those two idiots have said will lead me any closer to you. They think that I've hurt you and that you're trying to get away from me. They don't believe me like they didn't believe you before.  I won't give up on this, Hannah.

Fog and dreams

It's very foggy outside tonight. It seems like it always is lately. It's alway freaked me out a little. It's the same now, though. Before, when I was a kid, it was because you never know what might be out there in the fog, watching you.  Now I know what it is. I have seen its faceless face, its eyeless eyes.  I see it everywhere sometimes, in the thinnest branch, the tallest tree. I know it's with us all.  But I don't know what it's waiting for. I don't know why it doesn't just finish us off and be done with it.

I think maybe that's why you left. Maybe you felt like if you were alone it would come for you and would show you what it wants, even if it hurt you.  But I can't let tha/t happen.  We don't have to succumb to this, Hannah. 

I went for a walk about two hours ago. I was feeling kind of hungry, but more than that I wanted to get out of the flat. It's funny, sometimes I feel more like I'm being watched in here where I know I'm alone.  Or I should be alone, anyway. Maybe it's b\ecause of what happened before.  I didn't feel any different going out there tonight, though. The fog was too thick. Everything was so quiet, utterly silent, even. There are lots of college kids in this neighbourhood, you'd think there'd be some noise at least.  But there was nothing.  It's so cold. I could see my breath in front of me. 

Nothing happened. Somehow, I don't find that reassuring. 

I had the old nightmare again last night. At least I think it was the old one. It's weird how you start forgetting your dreams as soon as you wake up. Maybe it's because we don't really want to know what we saw.  But I remember the forest, the smell of the trees and the damp, wormy earth. The smell of something rotten underneath it all.  My heart was pounding in my throat.  There wa\s no path, no discernible way out of the woods.  But then I felt its arms its arms its arms its arms closing around me, bringing me cold closer to the darkness of its perfect fleshless body, holding me so tight.  Holding us both, Hannah. I opened my eyes and you were there with me, sinking into its embrace with me.  I don't remember what happened after that, if anything.

You know what the funniest part of it is? I was more scared when I woke up than when I was dreaming of it closing around me.  I found it almost comforting. 

What does it want from us, Hannah. 

Please find me.  Please come back to me.

Pen

The pen I used to make the mark is gone. Shouldn't make me nervous. Wouldn't, except that my room in the new flat is empty except for the mattress. I put the pen on the floor before I went out to think about what I need to do next over a coffee and when I came back it was gone. Such a small thing. Maybe it's nothing. I want to think it's nothing. 

But I remember you saying that everytime you drew the mark in ink whatever you did it with dried up immediately afterward, even if it was brand new. Is it stupid of me to wonder?

Another one

This is for you, Hannah.

Remember this mark. Please.

I'm not going to let him hurt you.