Look... I know you guys don't like Michelle. I know that... and you seem to trust ME even less. At least, by reading around, I've started to figure out why. More than just Michelle's view...
So, here it is: I don't know who it was that attacked Valerie in her hotel room. I don't know who used my name as theirs, okay? I don't know. I know about... you-know-who and I know about the agents. I know what they did to Michelle... and I really tried to help her at the time. I really tried. And I failed. But I'm trying again. I'm not giving up here. Please. I can't handle this on my own. I need you as much as she does right now.
The stupid thing is... if this was a possession, I'd know what to do. I've dealt with those kinds of things before but this...? This I don't have a clue. I'm working blind... and Michelle deserves better than that. I know a lot of you don't think so, but she does. We never really hit it off friend-wise with each other, and now I'm blaming myself for a lot of this shit. If I had paid attention - if I had KNOWN her a bit better - maybe I would have seen... something... something to stop this before...
God, before what? Before she set the walls up to begin with that, try as I may, I can't get past? Before she was bombarded as a kid by spirits looking for a laugh? Before she got involved with... with... you-know-who? Before she broke? Before the barn...?
...I can still hear the sounds of the cows... screaming in my head as they... burned up...
I've been doing my part to help with keeping the Veil intact for years... and THAT is what gives me nightmares? Cattle? Kinda funny, eh? Wish I felt like laughing.
You know... maybe the lot of you would think differently if Michelle had posted a "draft" she started on here months ago. The title is "leftrightstraightahead." It reads like one continuous journal entry... and some of the topics are just... well, if nothing else, it's honesty. I'll give you some quotes. I don't have right to do it but... it's only a small betrayal, right? I'm just trying to make you guys SEE. The first one is the very first paragraph.
"I don't remember. Why don't... why don't I remember coming back into the house? I went outside to see Him and then I just... what CAN I remember? I remember... my hands. Shaking. Shaking so bad. My head was pounding, but after I opened the door did I... what the hell did He do to me? Why did he take my necklace? WHY?! Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck this... this is WRONG GODDAMMIT. WHY AREN'T I AFRAID OF HIM?!?!? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?!?"
"can't listen to my ipod anymore. everything on it reminds me of Him... I... I cantt deal with it. He won't leave me alone. never alone. never alone. never. even when... when He's not... here. NotThere. doesn't matter. He's... inside. I feel it. All the time. He never leaves. never... never leaves... goddammit i want it GONE i can't deal with this. i... i have to protect Tanya and Hailey i can't FEEL LIKE THIS FEEL LIKE HIM FEEL IT GODDAMMIT JSUT GO PLESELETMEGOIDONTNEEDYOUDONTWANTYOUJUSTGOGOGOGOGOGOGO!!!"
"I sleep more now than I have in months. Valerie is happy about it. She's... relieved. I see it in her eyes. She thinks I'm doing so much better. I smile when she mentions it. Laugh a bit. Make a joke. My old thing, of course. It hurts my chest to not tell her why but... she has enough to worry about, doesn't she? There's enough weight on her shoulders... how can I add more? How could I possibly...? I'm... I'm supposed to help her. Protect her. Even from... me. How could I possibly tell her... that I sleep better now because I don't... Run from Him anymore in my nightmares... I merely... I merely walk to His side in my dreams.
Then... I wake up... and I can't look my best friend in the eye for fear of breaking into tears cause I see as plain as day how much she trusts me..."
"Vals' alsep and I'm tryuing my best not to screma god it hurts. it hurts so damn much but i can't fucking DAMMIT god please i can't let her know. it's getting worse but i cant let her know can't let her see can't blog can't worry her can't let her trust break SHE TRUSTS ME GODDAMMIT why can't I live up to that??? it shouldn't be this hard it shouldn't be the Eyes the Eyes god they make it hurt worse WHO THE HELL ARE YOU??? You're not HIM not HIM not HIM SO WHO ARE YOU please god... i... i never believed in a god. i just... can't, my brain won't let me. I've trie dto think. Tried to believe. God... I could use the crutch right now. Please, God, help me hide it. Help me hide this. Alll of this..."
"I don't know what hurts more. Thinking of all the reasons I have to HATE HIM... or... knowing that... I really don't..."
Sincerely,
Christian
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
This is Christian
Okay, here's a long shot, but... guys, I need help here. Seriously, there's something wrong with Michelle. I'm in WAY over my head here and I don't know who to turn to anymore. My friends can only keep her from hurting anyone else or herself for so long. We try to be gentle but she just... My God, it's like she's possessed. I'm not even kidding! There's a look in her eye and it's just... it sends a chill right through me. It's like... she doesn't recognize me. Like she doesn't recognize ANYTHING. We all went to SCHOOL together for the love of mutt and she just... she's just so... different. She... she killed that police officer at the station. I... I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't...
God, help her.
Someone help her, because I can't seem to get through to her. I've tried. I've tried... everything. I even sat with my arm around her shoulders - just trying to give some form of comfort...
The way she acted, you would think I'd been trying to... to...
...God, did someone...? I... I didn't even think about it before just now. She'd always had a personal space thing going but I never thought of why. That maybe she had... oh, God, no. Please, God, she's been through enough, hasn't she...? Please, don't let that be in her mind too...
Do... do any of you know? Is it buried in this blog somewhere? Please, has she mentioned ANYTHING to ANY of you that could help? I need to know what I'm dealing with here. I know... I know about the murderers... but I don't believe she did them. The police do. They told me they were going to help her if they found her. They told me THEY WOULD HELP!! NOT LOCK HER AWAY! NOT CHARGE HER WITH... with... any of this. She couldn't, but... she killed that officer...
God, I am so confused.
I read the last post on here. Like... I don't even know. Is this drugs or something? Can they do this to someone? All this is in her head. All of it. I got her RELEASED on BAIL for crying out loud! She's the one that pulled the knife and then there was just... so much blood... God, how could someone just take a life like that? She didn't even flinch. She didn't.....
Please help me help her. I only got onto her blog by sort of... tricking her... and I feel terrible about it. She screamed to use a computer. This is the second time. The first time I let her write that... thing. This time I took it. This time I'm grabbing what seems to be her lifeline as my last rope: You guys. This place. This blog.
It means a lot to her. Tell me you can help? Anyone?
Sincerely,
Christian
God, help her.
Someone help her, because I can't seem to get through to her. I've tried. I've tried... everything. I even sat with my arm around her shoulders - just trying to give some form of comfort...
The way she acted, you would think I'd been trying to... to...
...God, did someone...? I... I didn't even think about it before just now. She'd always had a personal space thing going but I never thought of why. That maybe she had... oh, God, no. Please, God, she's been through enough, hasn't she...? Please, don't let that be in her mind too...
Do... do any of you know? Is it buried in this blog somewhere? Please, has she mentioned ANYTHING to ANY of you that could help? I need to know what I'm dealing with here. I know... I know about the murderers... but I don't believe she did them. The police do. They told me they were going to help her if they found her. They told me THEY WOULD HELP!! NOT LOCK HER AWAY! NOT CHARGE HER WITH... with... any of this. She couldn't, but... she killed that officer...
God, I am so confused.
I read the last post on here. Like... I don't even know. Is this drugs or something? Can they do this to someone? All this is in her head. All of it. I got her RELEASED on BAIL for crying out loud! She's the one that pulled the knife and then there was just... so much blood... God, how could someone just take a life like that? She didn't even flinch. She didn't.....
Please help me help her. I only got onto her blog by sort of... tricking her... and I feel terrible about it. She screamed to use a computer. This is the second time. The first time I let her write that... thing. This time I took it. This time I'm grabbing what seems to be her lifeline as my last rope: You guys. This place. This blog.
It means a lot to her. Tell me you can help? Anyone?
Sincerely,
Christian
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Another Game
Valerie, I am so sorry. I haven't exactly been on computers much lately, but Christian showed me your posts and I just... I'll be back as soon as I can, okay? Hang in there. I'm kind of... caught up in shit at the moment. Goddammit, I knew we shouldn't have split up. You should have stayed with Green Man. You should have... fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Please. Please find somewhere to wait for me. Don't do anything I would do, okay? Yes, I said "would." Lets face it, I get in shit no one in their right mind ought to..
Shit like I'm in right now.
I'm not doing too well - I'll be honest about that. Christian and his crew aren't exactly what you'd call "gentle." Earned myself a few new bruises. Have a nice split lip that only just decided to stop bleeding. My wrists are practically black from the handcuffs which, of course, the lot of them have kept on me - behind my back - this whole fucking time so I couldn't do much to defend myself against whatever "manners" they were drilling into my skull... and stomach.
Finally managed to convince Christian to get me a computer. Punching bag or not, I refused to take him anywhere until he let me update my blog. Stupid request, yes, but I... I just... had to ground myself for a bit. Come on here. See the updates. Read what you guys write. Your stories. All to remind myself. It's... hard to explain. Being around Proxies... I just... it makes it harder. All of it. The pull is stronger. Normally, I can just ignore it. Cover it up. Pretend I don't feel anything. But tonight I just... it's so tight. So fucking tight. It hruts. Fucking it it HURTS.
...My wrists... really are black. Least I'm cuffed in the front right now - gives my shoulders and arms a rest. Somehow, it's hard to believe this is an upgrade, but sadly, it is. See... I've been in police custody. I was arrested when I crossed over the border. Christian had them practically waiting for me. He IDed me as the one who... who killed my family. As the arsonist who burnt down the farm. As the one who was behind everything. Including the disappearances of my friends. He told them it was me. He even had a recorder with... with Kent saying it was me. Fucking Kent. He's still alive. The recording is old, but if Christian is capable of truth, then he told me Kent is alive. Despite the circumstances, you don't know how happy that makes me. He's not another metal washer on my necklace. Not yet. He's broken still, but alive.
I guess Valerie wasn't the only one recording the conversation that day. Only this wasn't the same version. Christian took the liberty of editing. I remember it exactly.
Kent: Crazy chick... just got worse...
Valerie: Worse?
Kent: ...She was gonna get Hailey ... Tanya never... trusted her though.
Valerie: ..Kent... I can't / help you... I've known / Michelle / long enough.
Kent: ...She was going to be my daughter... my little girl... I was going to have a family ... She's the one who took her....
Chris: Val, maybe we should--
Kent: She took her / took her and / she kept drawing and drawing and drawing and drawing and burned most of them but drew them again and again and / was supposed to protect us but / couldn't / wouldn't / didn't and I couldn't protect my girls and they were going to be mine and THEY TOOK THEM AWAY FROM ME ALL OF YOU HER--
And that's when it started to scramble in a bunch of different voices.
Yeah, I love editing programs too. I think I know why he used the conversation with Valerie in it - it made it multi-purpose - and you could only catch the jumps if you knew the conversation already. I've listened the Valerie's recording a few hundred times, so for me... being interrogated... I really had a hard time trying not to laugh. Which in itself didn't go down well with the police. Especially when I muttered about it all being one big Game. They didn't like that. Especially since I'm either supposed to be dead or missing but I'm neither and I actually "hid" in the States.
I was charged by the second day and remanded in custody due to the severity of the charges. They were making arrangements for me to be shipped off to "Vanier Centre for Women" in Milton. Fucking Milton. A fucking six hour drive and my nerves were already shot. I'd be a fucking basketcase by the time I got up there. As I sat in my holding cell, I tried to keep reminding myself was that the good news was that Life in Canada is only 25 years. Which is only 5 years with good behavior and bail. Not to mention that, being cooped up like that, the Black King would have no problems getting to me - so I probably wouldn't even make my own trail. Awesome, eh?
The newspaper even rung up a story about my arrest as a "suspect" - but of course everyone knew I did it, right? Of course. It made sense. Even to me, it made sense. I was the center pivot of all the shit that happened and when the inferno lit the night, I disappeared - off to another country. The only thing Christian left out was the 'why' I'd do any of it. I guess that was supposed to be mine to fill the blank in. I wasn't playing that Game though.
Christian was, however, so kind to pay me a visit in my holding cell before they made my transfer. He had print-outs of Valerie's blog posts and the newspaper article with him. He even let me watch the video off his Iphone. He let it all sink in. Half-heartedly tried to bait me for a few minutes to actually confessing to his little story - mocking me in so doing. Tried to get my temper swinging. I just swapped between glaring at him and reading the words written by my best friend. It made my stomach sink to read it. To know. To know what level she had to be in to write like that. I felt so fucking USELESS...
And then Christian changed the Game. Introduced a detour route, but a shortcut, nevertheless. Apparently, he Follows my blog... because he said he'd only break me out if I brought him to the tree-house Corey had mentioned. Christian wants the book. No idea why. But I didn't care. I still don't. I agreed. Yesterday morning, right when they were about ready to take me to Milton... he and his crew came and got me instead. They killed one officer on their way in, but I managed to stop them from killing any others. One more piece to my necklace...
His name was Brain Woolley. He'd just bought an engagement ring. I heard them talk about it.
The rest you know.
My identity in Canada... my name, my past... everything... that's all shot now, if it wasn't before. But, at the very least... I'm out and moving again... even if it's with a fucktard like Christian and his mooks. I'm out. I can get this shit over with and get back to the States. Get back to Valerie. Crossing the border again is going to prove interesting though... making my hate for Christian sink that much deeper...
For now, looks like we'll be taking a bit of a trip... all to take a walk right into His Territory. I... used to like trees. Not so much so these days.
The... pull hurts more with just the thought of...
Fuck.
It's... only getting worse now. Only worse...
Valerie. I'm coming. I promise. Hang tight.
Shit like I'm in right now.
I'm not doing too well - I'll be honest about that. Christian and his crew aren't exactly what you'd call "gentle." Earned myself a few new bruises. Have a nice split lip that only just decided to stop bleeding. My wrists are practically black from the handcuffs which, of course, the lot of them have kept on me - behind my back - this whole fucking time so I couldn't do much to defend myself against whatever "manners" they were drilling into my skull... and stomach.
Finally managed to convince Christian to get me a computer. Punching bag or not, I refused to take him anywhere until he let me update my blog. Stupid request, yes, but I... I just... had to ground myself for a bit. Come on here. See the updates. Read what you guys write. Your stories. All to remind myself. It's... hard to explain. Being around Proxies... I just... it makes it harder. All of it. The pull is stronger. Normally, I can just ignore it. Cover it up. Pretend I don't feel anything. But tonight I just... it's so tight. So fucking tight. It hruts. Fucking it it HURTS.
...My wrists... really are black. Least I'm cuffed in the front right now - gives my shoulders and arms a rest. Somehow, it's hard to believe this is an upgrade, but sadly, it is. See... I've been in police custody. I was arrested when I crossed over the border. Christian had them practically waiting for me. He IDed me as the one who... who killed my family. As the arsonist who burnt down the farm. As the one who was behind everything. Including the disappearances of my friends. He told them it was me. He even had a recorder with... with Kent saying it was me. Fucking Kent. He's still alive. The recording is old, but if Christian is capable of truth, then he told me Kent is alive. Despite the circumstances, you don't know how happy that makes me. He's not another metal washer on my necklace. Not yet. He's broken still, but alive.
I guess Valerie wasn't the only one recording the conversation that day. Only this wasn't the same version. Christian took the liberty of editing. I remember it exactly.
Kent: Crazy chick... just got worse...
Valerie: Worse?
Kent: ...She was gonna get Hailey ... Tanya never... trusted her though.
Valerie: ..Kent... I can't / help you... I've known / Michelle / long enough.
Kent: ...She was going to be my daughter... my little girl... I was going to have a family ... She's the one who took her....
Chris: Val, maybe we should--
Kent: She took her / took her and / she kept drawing and drawing and drawing and drawing and burned most of them but drew them again and again and / was supposed to protect us but / couldn't / wouldn't / didn't and I couldn't protect my girls and they were going to be mine and THEY TOOK THEM AWAY FROM ME ALL OF YOU HER--
And that's when it started to scramble in a bunch of different voices.
Yeah, I love editing programs too. I think I know why he used the conversation with Valerie in it - it made it multi-purpose - and you could only catch the jumps if you knew the conversation already. I've listened the Valerie's recording a few hundred times, so for me... being interrogated... I really had a hard time trying not to laugh. Which in itself didn't go down well with the police. Especially when I muttered about it all being one big Game. They didn't like that. Especially since I'm either supposed to be dead or missing but I'm neither and I actually "hid" in the States.
I was charged by the second day and remanded in custody due to the severity of the charges. They were making arrangements for me to be shipped off to "Vanier Centre for Women" in Milton. Fucking Milton. A fucking six hour drive and my nerves were already shot. I'd be a fucking basketcase by the time I got up there. As I sat in my holding cell, I tried to keep reminding myself was that the good news was that Life in Canada is only 25 years. Which is only 5 years with good behavior and bail. Not to mention that, being cooped up like that, the Black King would have no problems getting to me - so I probably wouldn't even make my own trail. Awesome, eh?
The newspaper even rung up a story about my arrest as a "suspect" - but of course everyone knew I did it, right? Of course. It made sense. Even to me, it made sense. I was the center pivot of all the shit that happened and when the inferno lit the night, I disappeared - off to another country. The only thing Christian left out was the 'why' I'd do any of it. I guess that was supposed to be mine to fill the blank in. I wasn't playing that Game though.
Christian was, however, so kind to pay me a visit in my holding cell before they made my transfer. He had print-outs of Valerie's blog posts and the newspaper article with him. He even let me watch the video off his Iphone. He let it all sink in. Half-heartedly tried to bait me for a few minutes to actually confessing to his little story - mocking me in so doing. Tried to get my temper swinging. I just swapped between glaring at him and reading the words written by my best friend. It made my stomach sink to read it. To know. To know what level she had to be in to write like that. I felt so fucking USELESS...
And then Christian changed the Game. Introduced a detour route, but a shortcut, nevertheless. Apparently, he Follows my blog... because he said he'd only break me out if I brought him to the tree-house Corey had mentioned. Christian wants the book. No idea why. But I didn't care. I still don't. I agreed. Yesterday morning, right when they were about ready to take me to Milton... he and his crew came and got me instead. They killed one officer on their way in, but I managed to stop them from killing any others. One more piece to my necklace...
His name was Brain Woolley. He'd just bought an engagement ring. I heard them talk about it.
The rest you know.
My identity in Canada... my name, my past... everything... that's all shot now, if it wasn't before. But, at the very least... I'm out and moving again... even if it's with a fucktard like Christian and his mooks. I'm out. I can get this shit over with and get back to the States. Get back to Valerie. Crossing the border again is going to prove interesting though... making my hate for Christian sink that much deeper...
For now, looks like we'll be taking a bit of a trip... all to take a walk right into His Territory. I... used to like trees. Not so much so these days.
The... pull hurts more with just the thought of...
Fuck.
It's... only getting worse now. Only worse...
Valerie. I'm coming. I promise. Hang tight.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
South and North
- You're not paying attention, are you? For all of your speeches. For all of your so-called wisdom and faith. You continue to blind yourself to the obvious. Not wanting to see. Not wanting to know. You bury yourself so deep, but how long can you keep the charade up? Cracks are beginning to form in your shell. I cannot wait to finally see you. We are getting closer. Now I must ask: Have you seen the children? Regards,
This was posted on Valerie's blog last night.
She's now gone. She took the car and is driving back.
I'm still heading for the border. An hour or so more, and I'll be back in Canada.
My choice?
Like Hell.
See, I'd found out earlier that the area the tree-house Corey talked about is in... is actually scheduled to be clear-cut, divided up, and made into new lots for houses. We were trying to boot it up there before the entire place was leveled and I lost whatever shot I had at finding some answers. And that was all she kept talking about when it happened - that I had to find my answers. Only without her this time, because she had to go back.
But I didn't care about answers at that point. I just wanted to go with her to make sure SHE would be okay.. Not only has she been a little spacy lately, but this is obviously all part of His Game... and I'm not entirely sure she's plugged in yet. I just... fuck it all to Hell, I don't know right now...
...And I'm telling the story backwards too. Fantastic.
We'd been on the road at the time, listening to music and talking some things through that were on our minds... but a breaking news story on the radio seem to cut straight through whatever either of us had been saying at the time. The monotone announcer spoke about a fast and uncontrollable gas fire in the new [REDACTED] Building of [REDACTED] Academy Charter School in Camden, New Jersey. Needless to say, we immediately pulled off to find an internet cafe - all the while listening to witnesses describing where they'd been at the time and what they'd seen or heard.
Valerie shot ahead of me when we found a cafe and immediately logged into a news site to try to find more information. Me... I don't know. I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach... and so I logged on Blogger instead. That's when I found the comment. I showed Valerie... and, I swear, I didn't think that girl could get any paler, but she did. It was like watching someone take a punch to the gut. She just sat there, staring at the words on the screen. His words. Probably rattled off by some Hollowed mother fucker somewhere, but still Him.
I couldn't take it. I grabbed her and practically dragged her out of the cafe. I told her to get in the damn car. That we were doing a U-turn and heading back... and that's when the arguing started. She was mumbling about "morality chain duties" whatever the fuck that means and how we had to keep on going to Canada because this could be the only lead I'd ever get to figuring out what happened to Steven.
My exact words?
"FUCK STEVEN. This shit is more important than whatever happened fourteen years ago, Valerie. Even IF it relates to me now... who gives a shit? This is happening NOW. Only lead or not, we're turning around. Get in the fucking car."
She wouldn't.
Goddammit, her lack of... actual reaction scared the crap out of me. Still scares the crap out of me. I keep telling myself it was just shock... but I've seen shock. I know shock. That was not shock. We landed up arguing in the middle of the street for a sum of minutes. Mostly with our voices down. Eventually, she told me she would only get in the car and go back... if I kept going forward. If I kept going up to Canada.
Did I like that? No.
Did she? No.
But I wasn't going to let her just ignore what was happening back at home for her on account of me.
And she wasn't going to let me just ignore my own chance at answers on account of her.
So... we split up.
It already feels like a mistake.
Monday, September 12, 2011
The Lives We Live
This is what happens when you let yourself get too paranoid: You land up feeling like you're a goddamn nutjob. Like all of this really is just some hallucination that burns us through before burning us up in nightmares that don't exist, running from a monster that isn't real. You get so caught up in the life. The fears. Your plans. His plans. Who's doing what where and why and for whom to get at what and destroy who to ultimately end Him. Only to end themselves in the process. Just the stories alone are enough to make your head spin.
You forget to remember that the ground is very much there. Gravity is still quite the bitch. Money is still a requirement of life. And, guess what? Sleep tends to be a good thing. Nightmares or no.
You forget that there are literally billions of people who don't even know what a Proxy is and, if you walked up to them and asked about a Bleeding Tree or a Faceless Man, they'd probably inform you that there's a Dealer two blocks in such-in-such direction that goes by the name of Larry. He'd be able to "hook ya up."
So is Corey a Runner?
No.
But he is a runner of another kind. He just likes to split when the bills start piling up too much for his taste. I wouldn't call him an asshole, really. He's actually really nice. He's just so cheap he squeaks. Whatever tricks he uses though, they seem to work well for him. His new apartment isn't exactly a hole in the wall. Not luxurious, but certainly above the basics considering the location. Nice place, all in all.
So our suspicions on him being one of the haunted? Unfounded and merely kindling for stress.
However. There are then incidences in which paranoia is, in my opinion, rather justified. Like, for example, missing time. A lot of it, but dappled. A few hours here. Half-hours there. I thought... it was September 5th. Valerie was the same way. I don't have to tell you what went on this past weekend to correct us. It is now September 12th. I called Corey back, who we had found and spoken to, and apparently it was actually the 6th that we were at his place. Not the first, as we had thought. And the ninth? Apparently that's the date I bitch ranted at Elaine for her stupid shit with a certain proxy bastard we all know and loath. I thought it was the 2nd. The day AFTER coming back from Corey's. I had intended to update then but... my temper wasn't in the mood to. Today, we've packed up our shit and are moving North. We've obviously stayed here far too long and I'm getting more irritated and more worried by the day.
Or would that be three days?
Honestly. I'm barely making sense of what happened when. All I know for sure is that I thought that, at max, a week had passed since I last updated here. In that week, we somehow lost seven days. Maybe a little less. We can't figure out which hours went missing where but... they have to be there. Or not be there, as the case may be. We know we lost the last few days since my comment on Elaine's blog. Over forty-eight hours gone. Just like that.
Valerie doesn't see the harm in it.
Bloody hell, she's worrying me. I try to keep an eye on her the best I can but... I know she's not telling me everything that's been bugging her. I don't push the subject much cause, well... I don't have any right to.
So... on the road again. Below is the transcript of our visit with Corey. Between the two of us, we remember how things went, plus we had the recorder. After all, for us... this was only a few days ago.
.
.
.
He had been playing WoW when we showed up. Answered the door with his headset around his neck. I have to admit, he wasn't as weedy as I remember him being all those years ago. I got the red hair part right though. He hesitantly asked if there was something he could help us with. AKA: Get to the point, I'm about the level up. So I got right to it.
"You're [Corey Insertlastnamehere], right?" Like I said before, Corey isn't his real name. "You probably don't remember me, but I'm Michelle Lapierre. This is my friend, Valerie. I'd like to talk to you about my brother, Steven. You two were friends before he died, right? Steven Lapierre?"
There was a defined moment of silence before his jaw went a bit slack. "You... wait, what? Michelle?! My family told me you were dead!"
"...Not quite?"
He looked extremely awkward at that point. "Uh... r-right. I... I heard about the farm. About... well, you know. I, uh... 'I'm sorry for your loss' doesn't really seem to cut it, eh... oh!" He stepped to one side. "Come on in. You two look beat over. Sorry about the mess... can I get you anything? Beer? Coke? Water? Little short on food right now... I got some pizza leftovers?"
Was it a mess? Not really. No more than I'd keep my place if I had one. After we each snagged a drink, we sat down around his living room/gaming battle station and, once I prompted him, he explained how much he had heard from across the border. I had the recorder set on the table. It had been on since we knocked on the door. I told him I had a lousy memory. He hadn't minded. When he was done his view on the situation, he offered a slight smile to me, arms resting on his knees.
"I'd always planned on swinging back around to see you guys. I spent more time at your farm than I did at my own place... but after Steve it was just..." he shook his head. "I couldn't believe it when I heard. Armed arsonists. I mean... is that what kids do for kicks today? Like, I used to set mailboxes on fire when I was a kid. Hell, all your brothers did too! I'm sure you did it yourself. It was almost seen as a rite of passage in our area. But to pull guns when you catch them at it? And a barn? Mother of God..."
I bit back a rant and pushed on. "Yeah, well... something has come up lately. Something about Steven. I was wondering if you could help me with that. I was only eight at the time, so I don't really remember what happened. ...Do you?"
He gave a bit of a laugh, leaning back in his chair. "Do I? How could I forget? Steven was my best friend. My first best friend - all the way up through Elementary School. You don't watch someone change like he did and then just forget it. Even fourteen years later."
My stomach twisted on me at that minute. 'Cause I knew then and there that, if asked in the right way, Corey could answer so much for me. It actually made me feel a bit choked. Making me wonder if I really wanted to know any of this or not... not that I really had a choice. Too late to hit rewind.
I guess Val saw I'd hit a bit of a bump, so she spoke up for me. "Changed how?"
"Oh, man, how didn't he change? All growing up, he was the laid-back one. The one that would keep everyone else grounded. A fun guy. Always out and doing things. Exploring whatever he could find. He hated being inside and landed up hauling the rest of his friends all across Hell's half acre because of it. Me especially. I mean... we grew up together. We even did the local canoe races together. Each year, we'd go like crazy asses at that dam... and I think we only made it ONCE out of all the years. Every other year we took a swim - I can still remember how cold that water is early spring...
"But uh... it was just... small changes at first. Little things. I remember him getting gradually more and more distracted. Always looking over his shoulder. Real jumpy. Tap him on the shoulder and he'd go through the roof, you know? Always got defensive when you asked him about it. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he'd just tell me he was fine. To not worry about it." He gave a bit of a sad smile. "But what is a friend if not someone who knows how to get you to spill the beans when needed? I got him to crack eventually. He said someone was following him. Naturally, I wanted to get the police involved but... he said he was handling it. That someone was helping him with it already."
I frowned. "Helping him? How? Who?"
"No idea with the 'how'. Steve always just said he was helping. His name was Robert. I met him a few times... and I didn't like him any of those times. The guy left a bad taste in the mouth. Like he was just... bad news all the way around. Steve trusted him though. Even as he just got worse and worse... he kept telling me it was alright. They had a plan. Robert was helping and they had a plan." He scoffed. "Whatever that plan was... it got Steve killed. He had just... disappeared for months... and then they found him in a river practically on the other side of the province. I knew Robert had killed him. Right down to my soul, I knew it. I told the police about him but... they couldn't do anything. Not enough to go on. Hell, I never even got a last name...
"I sorta... still blame myself for that. If I had bothered to figure out who the bastard was who was hanging out with my best friend all the time, I could have helped the police find the asshole. I could have helped Steven rest in peace knowing the murdering fuck is locked up... but I didn't. Because I was jealous." He laughed a bit then. "I was a sixteen year old kid... jealous right down to my core cause I thought my best friend was replacing me. It took a lot of years before I could admit that..."
Valerie chipped in at this point. "Admitting it at all shows maturity that most others don't have, [Corey]. But maybe we can do something... Can you give a physical description? I know it's been a while..."
He thought for a bit before shaking his head. "No, I'm sorry, I... I could never see him all that well anyway. He was always wearing some stupid hoodie." He looked between us. "Are... the police reopening the case?" He suddenly looked more awake. "Wait. The attack on your farm. They're not thinking...?"
"Nah, nothing like that." I waved it over. "It's just... me. Just some details that came up recently and I really needed to find some answers. Unfortunately, Steven can't give them to me, so I was hoping you could. Anything else you remember? At all? Anything stick out as strange or weird? Was there anything Steven would... talk about? Almost obsess about?"
Corey closed his eyes for a bit, obviously thinking. "Well... I don't know how much good it'll do you... but I do remember him writing a lot. He had this one book that he hauled with him everywhere he went by the end. Never saw him without it. I don't know what was in it cause he never let me see but... that... that was an obsession."
"Any idea what happened to it?"
"No idea. It wasn't exactly something I paid much attention to."
I gritted my teeth, trying to think.
Then I heard Valerie. "Was there anywhere he liked to go a lot? Especially near the end?"
We literally watched a light go off in Corey's head. "Actually... there was one place. Our old tree-house. I don't even know how many days we wasted in that thing battling against Stormtroopers and other armies of ultimate evil that slunk around that patch of bush. I know for a fact that he went there a lot when things were bad at home or if he just needed to get away from the farm for a while. If no one could find him, I could always find him there. Especially as he... got further into whatever it was he was dealing with." He looked at me. "It's possible the journal could be there. It was a long time ago, so I don't know how much of the thing is left but... I know the bush is still there. For now, anyway."
I smirked. "Alright then. Looks like we got our next destination. Any chance you could give us directions to your old stronghold?"
He smiled again. "Sure. Don't know how much good it'll do you, but sure." He stood, going to get a piece of paper to draw a... more visual map to go along with the recording. After that, we decided it was time to go. We exchanged phone numbers and email addresses and left. I thanked him for everything. He was a bigger help than he will ever know... and I hope it stays that way.
.
.
.
We're heading for the border now. My stomach won't stop doing loops.
I'm going home.
PS - Elaine and Morningstar, you're both still idiots.
You forget to remember that the ground is very much there. Gravity is still quite the bitch. Money is still a requirement of life. And, guess what? Sleep tends to be a good thing. Nightmares or no.
You forget that there are literally billions of people who don't even know what a Proxy is and, if you walked up to them and asked about a Bleeding Tree or a Faceless Man, they'd probably inform you that there's a Dealer two blocks in such-in-such direction that goes by the name of Larry. He'd be able to "hook ya up."
So is Corey a Runner?
No.
But he is a runner of another kind. He just likes to split when the bills start piling up too much for his taste. I wouldn't call him an asshole, really. He's actually really nice. He's just so cheap he squeaks. Whatever tricks he uses though, they seem to work well for him. His new apartment isn't exactly a hole in the wall. Not luxurious, but certainly above the basics considering the location. Nice place, all in all.
So our suspicions on him being one of the haunted? Unfounded and merely kindling for stress.
However. There are then incidences in which paranoia is, in my opinion, rather justified. Like, for example, missing time. A lot of it, but dappled. A few hours here. Half-hours there. I thought... it was September 5th. Valerie was the same way. I don't have to tell you what went on this past weekend to correct us. It is now September 12th. I called Corey back, who we had found and spoken to, and apparently it was actually the 6th that we were at his place. Not the first, as we had thought. And the ninth? Apparently that's the date I bitch ranted at Elaine for her stupid shit with a certain proxy bastard we all know and loath. I thought it was the 2nd. The day AFTER coming back from Corey's. I had intended to update then but... my temper wasn't in the mood to. Today, we've packed up our shit and are moving North. We've obviously stayed here far too long and I'm getting more irritated and more worried by the day.
Or would that be three days?
Honestly. I'm barely making sense of what happened when. All I know for sure is that I thought that, at max, a week had passed since I last updated here. In that week, we somehow lost seven days. Maybe a little less. We can't figure out which hours went missing where but... they have to be there. Or not be there, as the case may be. We know we lost the last few days since my comment on Elaine's blog. Over forty-eight hours gone. Just like that.
Valerie doesn't see the harm in it.
Bloody hell, she's worrying me. I try to keep an eye on her the best I can but... I know she's not telling me everything that's been bugging her. I don't push the subject much cause, well... I don't have any right to.
So... on the road again. Below is the transcript of our visit with Corey. Between the two of us, we remember how things went, plus we had the recorder. After all, for us... this was only a few days ago.
.
.
.
He had been playing WoW when we showed up. Answered the door with his headset around his neck. I have to admit, he wasn't as weedy as I remember him being all those years ago. I got the red hair part right though. He hesitantly asked if there was something he could help us with. AKA: Get to the point, I'm about the level up. So I got right to it.
"You're [Corey Insertlastnamehere], right?" Like I said before, Corey isn't his real name. "You probably don't remember me, but I'm Michelle Lapierre. This is my friend, Valerie. I'd like to talk to you about my brother, Steven. You two were friends before he died, right? Steven Lapierre?"
There was a defined moment of silence before his jaw went a bit slack. "You... wait, what? Michelle?! My family told me you were dead!"
"...Not quite?"
He looked extremely awkward at that point. "Uh... r-right. I... I heard about the farm. About... well, you know. I, uh... 'I'm sorry for your loss' doesn't really seem to cut it, eh... oh!" He stepped to one side. "Come on in. You two look beat over. Sorry about the mess... can I get you anything? Beer? Coke? Water? Little short on food right now... I got some pizza leftovers?"
Was it a mess? Not really. No more than I'd keep my place if I had one. After we each snagged a drink, we sat down around his living room/gaming battle station and, once I prompted him, he explained how much he had heard from across the border. I had the recorder set on the table. It had been on since we knocked on the door. I told him I had a lousy memory. He hadn't minded. When he was done his view on the situation, he offered a slight smile to me, arms resting on his knees.
"I'd always planned on swinging back around to see you guys. I spent more time at your farm than I did at my own place... but after Steve it was just..." he shook his head. "I couldn't believe it when I heard. Armed arsonists. I mean... is that what kids do for kicks today? Like, I used to set mailboxes on fire when I was a kid. Hell, all your brothers did too! I'm sure you did it yourself. It was almost seen as a rite of passage in our area. But to pull guns when you catch them at it? And a barn? Mother of God..."
I bit back a rant and pushed on. "Yeah, well... something has come up lately. Something about Steven. I was wondering if you could help me with that. I was only eight at the time, so I don't really remember what happened. ...Do you?"
He gave a bit of a laugh, leaning back in his chair. "Do I? How could I forget? Steven was my best friend. My first best friend - all the way up through Elementary School. You don't watch someone change like he did and then just forget it. Even fourteen years later."
My stomach twisted on me at that minute. 'Cause I knew then and there that, if asked in the right way, Corey could answer so much for me. It actually made me feel a bit choked. Making me wonder if I really wanted to know any of this or not... not that I really had a choice. Too late to hit rewind.
I guess Val saw I'd hit a bit of a bump, so she spoke up for me. "Changed how?"
"Oh, man, how didn't he change? All growing up, he was the laid-back one. The one that would keep everyone else grounded. A fun guy. Always out and doing things. Exploring whatever he could find. He hated being inside and landed up hauling the rest of his friends all across Hell's half acre because of it. Me especially. I mean... we grew up together. We even did the local canoe races together. Each year, we'd go like crazy asses at that dam... and I think we only made it ONCE out of all the years. Every other year we took a swim - I can still remember how cold that water is early spring...
"But uh... it was just... small changes at first. Little things. I remember him getting gradually more and more distracted. Always looking over his shoulder. Real jumpy. Tap him on the shoulder and he'd go through the roof, you know? Always got defensive when you asked him about it. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he'd just tell me he was fine. To not worry about it." He gave a bit of a sad smile. "But what is a friend if not someone who knows how to get you to spill the beans when needed? I got him to crack eventually. He said someone was following him. Naturally, I wanted to get the police involved but... he said he was handling it. That someone was helping him with it already."
I frowned. "Helping him? How? Who?"
"No idea with the 'how'. Steve always just said he was helping. His name was Robert. I met him a few times... and I didn't like him any of those times. The guy left a bad taste in the mouth. Like he was just... bad news all the way around. Steve trusted him though. Even as he just got worse and worse... he kept telling me it was alright. They had a plan. Robert was helping and they had a plan." He scoffed. "Whatever that plan was... it got Steve killed. He had just... disappeared for months... and then they found him in a river practically on the other side of the province. I knew Robert had killed him. Right down to my soul, I knew it. I told the police about him but... they couldn't do anything. Not enough to go on. Hell, I never even got a last name...
"I sorta... still blame myself for that. If I had bothered to figure out who the bastard was who was hanging out with my best friend all the time, I could have helped the police find the asshole. I could have helped Steven rest in peace knowing the murdering fuck is locked up... but I didn't. Because I was jealous." He laughed a bit then. "I was a sixteen year old kid... jealous right down to my core cause I thought my best friend was replacing me. It took a lot of years before I could admit that..."
Valerie chipped in at this point. "Admitting it at all shows maturity that most others don't have, [Corey]. But maybe we can do something... Can you give a physical description? I know it's been a while..."
He thought for a bit before shaking his head. "No, I'm sorry, I... I could never see him all that well anyway. He was always wearing some stupid hoodie." He looked between us. "Are... the police reopening the case?" He suddenly looked more awake. "Wait. The attack on your farm. They're not thinking...?"
"Nah, nothing like that." I waved it over. "It's just... me. Just some details that came up recently and I really needed to find some answers. Unfortunately, Steven can't give them to me, so I was hoping you could. Anything else you remember? At all? Anything stick out as strange or weird? Was there anything Steven would... talk about? Almost obsess about?"
Corey closed his eyes for a bit, obviously thinking. "Well... I don't know how much good it'll do you... but I do remember him writing a lot. He had this one book that he hauled with him everywhere he went by the end. Never saw him without it. I don't know what was in it cause he never let me see but... that... that was an obsession."
"Any idea what happened to it?"
"No idea. It wasn't exactly something I paid much attention to."
I gritted my teeth, trying to think.
Then I heard Valerie. "Was there anywhere he liked to go a lot? Especially near the end?"
We literally watched a light go off in Corey's head. "Actually... there was one place. Our old tree-house. I don't even know how many days we wasted in that thing battling against Stormtroopers and other armies of ultimate evil that slunk around that patch of bush. I know for a fact that he went there a lot when things were bad at home or if he just needed to get away from the farm for a while. If no one could find him, I could always find him there. Especially as he... got further into whatever it was he was dealing with." He looked at me. "It's possible the journal could be there. It was a long time ago, so I don't know how much of the thing is left but... I know the bush is still there. For now, anyway."
I smirked. "Alright then. Looks like we got our next destination. Any chance you could give us directions to your old stronghold?"
He smiled again. "Sure. Don't know how much good it'll do you, but sure." He stood, going to get a piece of paper to draw a... more visual map to go along with the recording. After that, we decided it was time to go. We exchanged phone numbers and email addresses and left. I thanked him for everything. He was a bigger help than he will ever know... and I hope it stays that way.
.
.
.
We're heading for the border now. My stomach won't stop doing loops.
I'm going home.
PS - Elaine and Morningstar, you're both still idiots.
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