The bird was still sleeping when I finished reading the diary entries.
Every entry was described in short sentences, with the updates not daily, and there were many drawings, symbols, poems that were about angles and gods and whatever. I was unable to decipher if there were more coded messages, but I surely didn't see pigpen cipher again.
I leaned back again on the couch in front of the empty chimney, chuckling.
This girl undoubtedly fell victim to a special kind of monster. It was sad, twisted, and most of all, unnecessary.