MINE-part 2

Okay, so it’s around 7:30 pm, about 5 hours since I last wrote.  I’ve been through a lot of shit to deal with in five hours, so once again, forgive me for any grammatical errors.

In the several hours that have followed since my last post, things have escalated beyond my comprehension.  None of you will believe me, which is to be expected, I wouldn’t believe me.  That’s not the point of this.  The point is, the people who know me, they’ll read this, and they’ll know.  Hopefully, it’ll warn them.

So, I woke up in the hotel room, read the note my girlfriend left me(she went to work), thought twice, and called her to make sure was at work(she was), then sat down to write the first post.  I needed to clear my head after writing all that shit down.  I didn’t even know if I had imagined all of that.

So, I walked out of the hotel, and started smoking cigarettes by the front.  It was time to process everything on my own, without a keyboard as a medium.  Cigarette after cigarette passed, and the only things I could come up with, were things I did not want to fucking do.

Call Wesley, let him know what was happening.

Go to my house, confirm that there is in fact an upside-down crucifix on my wall.

I finished a quarter of my pack before I grew enough balls to even move from the spot.  I didn’t have the car, my girlfriend took it to work, so the only thing I could do right now was to call Wes.

God.  I can’t believe this shit is happening to me.  Sorry, I’m kind of just letting my fingers wander on the keys.

So, I grabbed out my iPhone, and tapped Wes’ name.  His contact picture came up in the background, only it wasn’t the usual smiling picture of him with his cigarette hanging from his mouth, and a beer spilling down the front of his shirt.  Everything was the same, beer falling, arms up in an awkward pose, except for two things.  His cigarette, had disappeared completely, and instead of a smiling face, only a small smirk greeted me.

I dropped the shit out of my phone, and I heard the tell-tale pop of breaking glass.  I should’ve taken it as forewarning, because this was the high point of the day.  I grabbed the phone, and barely glanced at my shattered screen.  Wesley had picked up, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to give him the chance to hang up(he’s is known for almost never picking up his phone).

“Wesley,” I said, trying to keep my cool.

“What up, dude?” He said.  His voice sounded like it was coming through falling gravel.  I blamed it on shitty reception.

“Hey, what’d you do last night?”

I sat listening to silence for a while, before he responded, “I think the better question is, what’d you do last night?”

I don’t know what it was, but that creeped me the fuck out.  For the millionth time in the past thirty hours, I shivered.

“I don’t know.  Nothing really,” I said.

“That’s not what it tells me.”

I fucking chucked my phone away from my ear.  I remember whimpering, and pacing around in circles, attracting a few concerned glances from the hotel’s patrons.  The problem with me is, I’m mostly white, so when life basically tells me to back the fuck off, I laugh and poke it with a big stick.

I picked the phone back up, and noted the increasingly fractured glass of the screen, and placed it to my ear again.

“Wesley, you there?”

“I’m here, Alexander.”  He fucking never calls me Alexander, no one does.

“What the fuck is it, and why is it happening to me?”

Another stretch of silence, and then, “Go to your house, grab the crucifix, and come see me. I won’t be at my house, it isn’t safe.  I’ll be at the church on robindale.”

Click.  I sat with the phone pressed against my ear for a good long time.  Eventually, I had to peel it from my ear, and wait for my girlfriend to get off.  That was three hours of pure dread, waiting outside the hotel.

She pulled up, and I told her everything.  She looked at me, eyebrows all furrowed like she does when I’m saying something idiotic.

“If this thing has gotten to Wes, why would we trust him?  Why don’t we call his girlfriend?” She said, voice of reason, that girl.

I nodded, “Alright, but no matter how we do this, we can’t afford to break a lease, so we might as well deal with it now.”

She shook her head with furor; can you tell she’s less white than me?

“You can stay in the car, I’m just going to run in and check if the cross is on the wall, and grab some things, okay?”

She took a long pause, obviously mulling over all the shit she just had to take in, and nodded.  Even a drop of white, and you at least get a small stick.

We drove home, and she stopped the car in the street, not even pulling into a parking spot.  I kissed her, and got out of the car, leaving the door wide open.

I unlocked the door, and pushed it open.  The doorknob bounced against the wall, but other than that, my apartment stood in silence.  I inched in, wading through a thick fog of terror.  Nothing in the house had been touched, good sign.  I kept moving, and turned into the bedroom.  I am not proud of this, but there is a certain point where your body just can’t take anymore fear; I pissed myself.

I stood, facing a wall of crucifixes. One word repeated again, and again, curving through the spaces in between the overturned crucifixes.  Though, I bet you are imagining a scrawl, jagged letters; no, this was calligraphy, each word in smooth neat handwriting.  I didn’t notice I had pissed myself, but after a second, I felt tears fall from my cheeks.  I heard a wail of terror, and realized it had come from my own mouth.  I calmed myself down, after a moment, though I didn’t stop crying. I reasoned that this could’ve happened during the night, right after I left probably, chances are, whatever did it had already left.  It’s astounding what the mind can do to rationalize a situation.

I dragged my feet through the bedroom, throwing clothes into a nap sack.  I went into the bathroom, to grab our toothbrushes, and deodorant, when I saw it. As I turned my gaze towards the bathroom, I saw a pen scratching against a piece of yellowed paper without someone wielding it, then suddenly fall when…it noticed(god, I’m crazy, I’m fucking batshit insane) me, and fell.

Then I felt something push me out of the way, and I fel headfirst into the fucking tub again.  I scrambled to my feet, and watched the invisible thing blast the door out of the way.  I know I pissed my pants again, there’s too much for it to only be once.  I needed to get the fuck outside, because whatever just rushed past me, was heading outside.  Where my girlfriend was.

I grabbed the toothbrushes, and the parchment, and stuffed them in my nap sack.  I threw the thing over my shoulder, and reached under my bed, to retrieve the Colt .45 I got at the gun show.  I stuck the metal in my waistband, and ran out of the door.  I slammed it shut, and ran as fast as I fucking could towards the car door.  I jumped into it, and immediately started swinging my arms around, looking for whatever the fuck had been in my house.  Once the coast was clear, I closed the door, and screamed at my girlfriend to slam on the gas.  We burned out of that motherfucker.

I filled her in, and she started crying.  Then I started crying again.  It was only moments before we had to pull over, or risk crashing into something.  After a while, she looked over at me, and said, “I called Wes’ Girlfriend.”

I had forgotten all about that, “What’d she say?”

My girlfriend bowed her head, and said, “She said she couldn’t deal with it anymore.  She said it wanted Wesley, not her, or Aaron, and that she needed to get her and Aaron to safety.”

I started hitting the dashboard, screaming nonsense.  I’m not the type of guy to just lose it, and start fucking up things, but I just couldn’t handle it anymore.  It was all getting too much for me, I don’t know how I had dealt with it up until this point.  I was bound to snap, the question was when.  Well, right now seemed to be the answer.

After I calmed down, I rolled down my window, and lit a cigarette.  A few minutes into my meditation, I realized something.  “It wants Aaron too.  Not just Wesley.  It said it when it made me write.”

She looked over to me, “What does that mean?”

I waited a second before responding, “It means we need to figure out what it is, and how to fuck it up, before it hurts Aaron.”  I love that kid.

I rocked my head towards her, and said, “Let’s go to that church.”

So here I am, getting ready to meet my best friend, and figure out what the fuck all of this is about.  My girlfriend, and I, have stopped at a McDonald’s so we could eat, and I could change my pants, and get a chance to write this all down while it’s still fresh.  I called Wesley, no answer.  I guess I’ll have to hope he’s at the church already.  I hope it’s okay I don’t have the stupid cross.  There is no way I’m going back into my house before this is done with.  I’ll try to post again soon, but to be honest, I don’t know what is going to happen after tonight.  If you’re reading this, I know it sounds like complete bullshit, and I’m not asking you to believe me.  I just want you to know, that I’m seeing this shit.  I’m dealing with this.  This is fucking up my life.  So, fake story for you, fucking real life for me.  Regardless of whether or not I’m a pyschopath or something, hallucinating all this shit, it feels real.  I’m experiencing this shit, real or not.  Keep that in mind.

Please, keep that in mind.

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One thought on “MINE-part 2

  1. Pingback: MINE-Part 3 | Mightier than the Pen

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