I'm scared. I can't lie and say I'm not. I'm fucking scared.
I'm eyeing the phone that now innocently sits on top of our marble counter, chilling out with an empty pizza box. It's now an object of fear. I don't want it to get to me, I like to imagine I'm just a fool, that the bad people will eventually go away if I ignore them.
Then I think about what happened to Shiloh, and I can't help but feel scared. You guys are right. It's haunting me, you see. My dreams are shrouded in darkness. The glass house takes me away every night. Inside is a bright asylum, where the damned can never escape. It is far from a road to heaven. To call it that would be a bad joke. It waits to take me to hell.
A thousand hornet stings, that's how it feels.
I want to get to the bottom of all this. Who are the people stalking us? With Diane and the rest of them losing their memories, all I can ask myself is "What Now?"
I think I can find the truth here, and I do have one single lead.
I never thought to follow it before. I hardly wanted to believe it was real. Of course, I never thought this would get so bad. Why would I think that? I'm pretty much an everyday guy. Ordinary and boring. Nothing special about me. Or Shannon, even. Though, she may have been a bit too curious for her own good. What we thought were illusions were actually very real.
I've seen... things. Seen them with my VERY EYES. When the lights went out. When all light went away and just STOPPED, he appeared. Yeah. Those damn street lights.
...I could tell I was being observed. Does he always do that? I don't fucking know. The lights flickered back, and he was gone. It was only for a split second, such a small amount of time was easy for me to pretend I had imagined it. Even so, I was scared out of my mind. I rushed to the door, but it wouldn't open, and I got a call on my cell.
It was Paul.
"Do you believe what you see?" was the first thing he said.
I couldn't answer. I yelled and almost threw the phone before I got a hold of myself. I asked if it really was him.
He didn't say yes or no. He didn't say anything at all. There was a long moment of silence. I started counting the seconds. Seven... Eight... Nine... My patience was being tested. Ten... Eleven... Twelve. Twelve was when he finally answered.
"You knew I wasn't really gone."
Isn't that fascinating? I was expecting some cryptic ass message to follow, like 'Follow the rainbow to where the white rabbits play and the rivers join! Hurry, hurry, the clock is ticking!"
Instead, he gave me a very easy message.
"You're in the way, Dan. Remember what I told you the day before I made my decision? You should have." Then he hung up.
... I got a text right afterward. "Just remember that if you care to know where I've gone."
That was always a strange habit of his, always ending the conversations through text after we talked...
I started to get a headache. I could barely see the words on my phone as I started to sway from side to side. HIS empty face entered my vision, and my mind went blank. I... then woke up at home, freaked out, left that post. According to Diane (if I can even trust what she remembers anymore), I had simply went back inside, told her I needed to go, and drove back home. I don't remember doing any of that, though. Who's memory do you trust more? I'd like to trust my own, but I have none to even trust in this case.
... But I do remember what Paul told me the day before he disappeared, and I assume that was what he meant. It was perhaps the only thing he said concerning his hysteria.
I'm going to check it out. I need to make THIS count, I need to know what's up with Paul, at least. I wish there was an easy guide on this stuff, but there simply isn't. I need to stop blocking out the things I can't explain.
Maybe once I figure out what's going on with Paul, I can find out who the stalkers are.
The answer could be in what I saw when the lights flickered. That... dude.
For just a little while, let me believe that what I saw had been my tired mind playing tricks on me. For just a little while, at least.
Happy fucking Thanksgiving.