Goodbye

Had a dream. First in a long time. Like the old one He sent ,me. But different. Man in it. Not Him. Man took me into the sky. Letm e see the roads. One with people I cared about, one withHim. And trees. All that split the ttwo roads. Parallel roads. Just trees. Couldn't see through. All I got was to not see them Not see them die.

But they were dying. He ws killing them, using me to do it. To kill them. they died. My step-broher, my ex-boyfriend. my classics teacher, my friend. Didn't see them. He protected me. Protected.The treess. He put the trees between me and them and I picked that road, All wrong. Nobody is safved, just me.
Treees are in my eyes. His. Can't trustc  them. Can't know what's rea;l. Are you real? can't konw. Nothing to trust. Dont want this. Don't

No. No whining. Doesn't mater. Stop. Won't let me die. But I cans till stop Him.

Won't see you again. Don't know if you'll see this. Never helped anyone. Sorry. Maybe advice helps. Don't be like me. Don't stop running. Race isn't over until you end it. Don't let Him trick you. Quitters never win. Things only get worse. So much worse.

Got to go. Got to end this. Just schedule this to go up later.

Fire

Fire is one of His things. One He'd been neglecting in my experiences with Him. Fixed that. Came back to an apartment building on fire. This was Thursday. Standing in a small crowd just gaping at it. Somebody finally thought to call 911. Firetrucks showed up and I left. Didn't want to be in the way. Didn't want to be caught.

Arson. Sure of it. Had the matches in my pocket. Smoke stayed with me. Hope nobody got hurt. But it wouldn't be His work if it was harmless. Just wish He'd stop using my body for that. Shouldn't have whined about the advertising.

City had the same name as where lying man said my father died in a fire. Except he said Arkansas. Might be making a joke here. Or what passes for a joke in His horrible twisted mind. Arkansas and Arizona both start with Ar. Funny. No clue who got to take the place of my father.

No money since I last posted. Had to get new clothes after the fire too. Extra money was gone by Saturday. So how am I posting this? Apple stores. Three of them over the past two days. Including today. Employees busy mourning Steve Jobs and haven't noticed.

Final thing: what was that last comment? Looked like it was from riddle person. Whoever you are, just type normally and stop being cryptic. Anybody wants to interpret, go ahead.

Now, to see if I can find food.

Confusion

Check for money every morning when I come back. This morning, wasn't just money. Newspaper clipping attached. More money than usual too. Special delivery from whoever gives me the money.

Obituary. Thought it was for the girl He killed in Denver. But it's wrong. Right name, wrong person. This is the one I knew. My friend. Came from the local paper back home. Home when I had one, I mean. No details on the how of her alleged death. Does say she died in Denver early last week.

How could they mess it up so bad? Has the correct family been informed? Or did they tell my friend's family she died? Would be awful. Thinking someone died who didn't. Embarrassing for the not really deceased too. And the paper.

Just a terrible, confused mess.

Confused me, too. But I saw the body. I know who it wasn't. Should I try to do something about this? No, what could I do? Write a letter to the editor? Tell them I was there when she died, holding the rope? That would go over well. Don't need my input to solve this.

Wonder why the obit was given to me. Must be a person who pays me. Can't see Him tearing out a bit of newspaper and tucking it in my pocket.

How Wrong Is This?

Another day, another crime scene. Already dead this time. Girl. About my age. Not too messy a death. Strangled. Rope in my hands, of course. He must do this on purpose. Trying to make me feel guilty. But it's all Him. Not even murder by omission here. These people would die anyway if He wants them dead. And the people I care about won't.

Was in her apartment, too. That's noteworthy. Tough decision to make. Plenty of useful stuff. Clothes nearly my size. Her laptop. She wouldn't need them. Didn't take those. Only took some food. Couldn't help myself.

Here's where I feel guilty. This was my choice. Bad choice. Shouldn't have taken anything. I know. Stealing from the dead is disgusting. Even if it would've just gone bad. Don't know why I'm justifying it to you. There are no good people. On this side, bad deeds are expected.

Also expected: wacky coincidences. Same name as somebody I knew. Not the same person. Just same name. If there's a lesson in this, it's the world is really small. Or this country is. Nearly identical cities and similar people.

Back to the point. Breakfast with a corpse. Only not really. Half wall between us and I faced away from her. Still sounds messed up. Was messed up. Wish I weren't me so I could scold me. Only when I'm not me, He takes over and I just don't exist.

Again, not what I want to write about. Left after eating. No point calling the cops. They do their job well and they'd find me. Then He'd get rid of them. No gain. Hopefully they find her before things get too gross. But after I'm far from here.

There was something else I meant to say. Forgot it. Hate when that happens. If it comes back, I'll edit it in next time I have a computer.

Edit: Was just going to complain about timezones. Too early over here in mountain time.

Money and Death

Today's the first day I had money since Saturday. Didn't think anything of it Sunday. Used what I had saved. Then I had nothing Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. It was awful. Got scared He might be trying to get rid of me. Doesn't make sense, I know. But He's unpredictable. Could have been true.

Wasn't. Got my money this morning when I came back. Salary, allowance, whatever. Usual amount. Not making up for what I missed. Kind of upset about it.

How do you people do it? The Runners, I mean. You don't have any income, right? Had to go to a soup kitchen. Felt like Oliver Twist. Awful food too. Been homeless for months, sure, but I've always had a little money. Paid for my own food.

No, I'll stop whining. If it happens again, I'll live. Just won't be able to post. No big deal.

Also, it's almost been a year since my mother died. Monday's the anniversary. On one hand, haven't lived a full year since then. On the other, feel like I've lived a whole life like this. Never thought then I'd still be alive now. Thought I was done for when I saw Him. Especially after He started killing off people I knew. But I am. Half alive is still alive.

Don't want to live forever like this. Don't want to die yet either. Can't say for sure things won't get better. Maybe He'll let me go after a year, even. Doubt it. But He's unpredictable. Could be true.

Don't Know What That Was For

Some of you saw the riddle I just deleted. Classic, about how many legs over a day. Answer is human. Everybody knows this. Should be changed, though. Nowadays old people have six legs. Walkers, not canes.

Don't know how it got here. Maybe the laptop wasn't as broken as it looked. A tech nerd could maybe fix it up and it'd still be logged in. Don't know. Or they guessed my password. Not hard. Just no point. No identity to steal. Changed the password anyway.

More wondering why than how, myself. What did I do to deserve an easy riddle? Guessing it was somebody He ruined. Messed up caps and all. Maybe it was bandit guy himself. Reminding me he's human too? Except I didn't forget. Not like some people.

Maybe you have better ideas.

All I've got to say. Wanted to let you know I saw it and deleted it. And changed the password. Won't happen again.

How I Broke My Computer

So, here's that story. The one from Sunday.

Saw Geoff again. Before he saw me. Didn't see anybody else around. Hid in the doorway of a shop. Except somebody was already lurking there. Scrawny guy, dressed like a bandit from a Western. Clearly on His side. My side.

Bandit guy tries to give a hatchet. Couldn't afford a gun, maybe. Didn't take it. Told him to get out, it was my half and I was supposed to be free of this. Bandit said it was His will. Pushed me out of the way. To do the job himself. Wasn't having any of that. Grabbed the guy's arm and yanked him back. Weighed almost nothing. Like he was literally hollow. Or just not eating. That got him mad. Madder. Swung at me with the hatchet.

The briefcase saved me. Or the laptop. Both. Hatchet broke through the screen of the laptop. Bandit fell on the ground. Convulsing. Figured I should call 911. But I had no phone.

So what do you think I did? If you guessed "call out to guy who wants you dead using the name you made up for him asking him to call 911 for you," you win.

Geoff looked over. Took a moment to realize what's going on. Then took out his phone and called. Couldn't hear what he said, but saw him look around for signs. I got out of there. Nothing more I could do and both of the guys there had tried to kill or at least hurt me.

But after he hung up, Geoff ran after me. Don't think you're supposed to hang up on 911. Anyway, Geoff wanted to know how I knew his name. No good answer. He went further, claiming I was some dead girl, his old neighbor. Oh, and I was betraying the human race to a mind-controlling alien. That's a new one.

I was so confused. He wasn't really Geoff. Couldn't be. His face wasn't the same. Close. Different somehow. Can't explain it. And even if his face changed, why would he be here?

Said I didn't know him except since last week. Said I was from Ohio. Didn't even say Geoff. Don't know if he believed me. Also told him I just saved his life so he should leave me alone. He just frowned at me and left.

Don't know if any of that was worth it. Haven't seen Geoff since, sure. But he could be dead. And now I'm back to library bribes.

No Coincidence

Used to live next door to a family of five. Back when I had a house and a family.

Never did explain that I had a stepfather, did I? Wasn't just me and my mother. Had a younger stepbrother too. Not the story I meant to tell.

Neighbors, right? Two boys, and a girl. Was good friends with the girl. Until junior year, anyway. Again, not the point. Point is, the oldest boy was two years older than me. Into politics. Weird, crazy politics. Convinced all Democrats are communists trying to brainwash children. Annoying, but he meant well. Probably. Helped me with pre-calc because I suck at math. Might expect him to be bullied, except he was a giant too. Whole family was tall.

His name was Geoff. The guy I named Geoff here reminded me of him. Right down to the belief that anybody not on his side is evil. Looked kind of like him too. But not the same person. I was sure of it. Until he recognized me.

There's a story there too. Short version: Stopped guy from attacking Geoff, broke computer in process, called out his name, he confronted me, figured out who I was, I lied, he left. Long version coming soon. Like I said, my laptop broke. Hatchets do that.

Still trying to wrap my mind around him really being Geoff. Doesn't make sense. Would have recognized him. Doesn't feel right even now. Can't explain it. Might even be an impostor. But he seemed legit.

Also, the guy with the hatchet said I was hunting Geoff. One mystery cleared up. Geoff wasn't magically following me, He was sending me after him. No coincidence, as in the title of this post.

A Coincidence?

Things that shouldn't happen keep happening. Coincidence isn't good enough. Must be arranged. By Him, or maybe someone else. Don't know. I should explain. Don't want to sound crazy.

That guy found me. The one from in the McDonalds on Saturday. Not one of the other guys. Should come up with some names. Let's go with Geoff for this one. No reason.

Anyway, Geoff found me today. This time he was ready. Had a hockey stick. Woke up on the bench to find him glaring at me. Tried not to panic. Remind myself He wouldn't let me die. Geoff is His target. No reason I'd be in danger. Except how I can't run away.

Tried to pretend I was still sleeping, but Geoff saw me look at him. So I stood up and waved. Maybe he'd go away. Nope.

Geoff marches toward me, saying how he was going to rid the world of scum like me. Defeat Him by taking out His pawns. I laughed. Couldn't help it. Geoff was so oblivious. Tried to explain to him that it was a bad plan. Too many of us, and He protects us. If it was just me and a handful of others, if Geoff could find them all like he found me, maybe. Maybe it would hurt Him. But I doubt it.

Geoff had no such doubts and wasn't going to listen to a "mindslave," as he thinks of me. Didn't bother explaining I'm only part-time. Didn't think it would matter.

Then Geoff charged at me. Cross-checked me over the bench. Knocked the wind out of me. So I was lying there on the ground with my legs on the bench. Defenseless. But Geoff didn't do anything. He hesitated. Not quite ready to bludgeon me to death. But he steeled himself and lifted the stick for a big swing.

By that point I could move and breathe again. Sort of. Rolled almost out of the way, and the stick came down on my forearm. That hurt. I cried out. Again, couldn't help it. Good thing, too.

Someone actually heard and decided to help. Not supposed to happen. Especially in a city. Not complaining, though. Woman came over. Shouted about calling the police. Geoff ran away. Then she left too. Cared enough to get rid of him, not enough to see if I was hurt.

Better that way. Can't go to a hospital and have His time start. Would be a mess. Just bruises anyway. I'll be fine.

Except I can't figure it out. How did Geoff find me again? Unlikely as me running into wallet guy back in North Carolina. These can't be just coincidences. Must be some meaning to it.

That Guy

Last post ended when I saw a guy watching me. Remember that? Only two days ago. A lot has been going on in our little world. Can't blame you if you forgot. Or never saw it in the first place.

Anyway, guy was watching me. Big hairy nerd, around my age, maybe a few years older. Finished the post, shut the laptop and glared back at him. He came over. Asked if I knew about You-Know-Who. Told him Harry Potter was over and he had to move on. But I knew this was that situation. The one I'd avoided so far. Not the first time I saw a Runner. First time one saw me.

He rephrased it, used some other stupid name for Him. Any other time, I would have come up with a good lie. Cover. Something to get him to go away. But I had just written that post. Not in the best mood. Didn't lie at all.

What would you do in his shoes? After somebody tells you yes, they do know about Him. No, they aren't a Runner. Actually, they're on His side.

I'll tell you what this guy did. Got this tough look on his face and raised his fists. Like he expected a fist fight. Now, I'm sitting down at a table, he's standing next to me, and we're in a busy McDonald's. He's got almost a foot and probably 100 pounds on me. Plus he's a he. Ridiculous.

So I just sat there. Let him realize how stupid he looked. No such luck. Then I said He was coming. That got the guy out of my face. Quickly went back and grabbed his bag, then headed for the door. Turned to point menacingly at me before getting outside and running away.

Went well. Nobody got hurt. Haven't seen him since, and I'm in Kalamazoo now. Always thought it was just a goofy word. But it's a real city.

No Revelations

Everyone's got secrets coming out. Good guys were bad. Some bad guys are good. Some bad guys are worse. Truth isn't what you expected. Truth isn't what you wanted. Think I'd be better off not knowing it.

My turn now. Here are my dirty little secrets. Shoplifted a few times. A little underaged drinking. Some forged signatures. Speeding. Lied too. Some weren't even white lies. Made out with one guy while going out with another. Wallet guy, actually. Said some cruel things.

Did I leave anything out? Nothing important, I'm sure. There is nothing important. No skeletons in my closet.

Wish I had some. Then I could just say I want to be a better person. Worse you are, the more support you get, right? And you have a goal too. Become better people. Not like me. Just getting through the days, hoping something will magically get better. Knowing it won't.

But at least I'm not in danger of death. I stay alive. Part of the deal. If I'm in danger, He'll help me out. Still can't be reckless. Somebody else might get killed. Wouldn't want that. That's why I don't want to be arrested. Cops would be doing their job, and then He'd kill them so I could get out. Maybe. Haven't tested it yet. Don't plan to.

Maybe you could count that as my crime. He killed people I loved since I didn't join Him fast enough. And He killed the lying man on the other side of the glass. Didn't do exactly what He wanted me to do. People died. Murder by omission? Sounds about right. See, I am one of you. A killer. Show me the secret handshakes.

Sorry. Maybe some of you aren't killers. Just disturbing how many are and get forgiven anyway.

Need to end this. Guy is watching me.

More

Yesterday sucked. Came back in the driver's seat of a PT Cruiser. In a parking garage. No other cars on the level. Got out and saw an old guy crushed up against the wall by the back of the car. He was making awful noises.

I froze. What do you do in that situation? Couldn't call 911. Couldn't help him at all. So I left. Walked as fast as I could, since He won't let me run.

Never explained that. When I try to run, my legs freeze up. I just fall instead. I believe he did something in my brain. The part that sends messages to muscles. Some of the messages are blocked. Just to make my half worse.

But I was talking about yesterday. Got out of the parking garage. No problem. Then notice I left the briefcase in the car. Going back in wasn't an option. Couldn't deal with seeing the dying guy again. Might get caught too.

Wasn't able to sleep all day. Kept thinking about the old man. And how the cops would have to be after me now. Parking garages have security cameras, right? But nothing happened. He protected me as usual. I got some food and just tried to calm myself over and over.

Then His half started and today the briefcase was back. Of course. No stupid troll posts this time. No more.

No more. Please.

Irene

Did you hear? Supposed to be a hurricane tomorrow. All the way up here. People are panicking. Not too worried myself.

For one thing, I'm in Albany. It will barely brush by here. That's if I'm still here in the morning. Probably won't be. Been moving west again. Hope that continues. East would be something to worry about. Doubt He cares if I get wet, though.

But another reason is this: they open shelters in storms. Not like regular shelters. Open in the day. Full of people who've got homes. Can probably sleep in there safely. Won't be the easiest target at least. All I've got to steal is in this briefcase. And nobody wants to touch it.

Believe I'll get another day of rest this Sunday. Three in a row. Weird. Only the first was pleasant. Unless these storm shelters are real fancy. Doubt it.

Now, for other stuff. Still nothing to show that fire ever happened. Least not where or when he said it did. But he must've had a reason to pick Arkansas. If I end up near there, I could check. That won't be anytime soon.

Does This Even Deserve a Post?

Been trying to research the alleged fire. On the internet and at the library. Haven't had any luck. Maybe that is luck. No fire is a good thing, after all.

Still upset that He killed that guy. I was caught on His half. That guy knew things. Knew my name. Knew where to find me. Knew what I was doing. Even if he was lying, he had the truth. Doubt he was working alone, either. Since He killed him, the guy wasn't on His side. Maybe he's with the government. The FBI or whoever that covers this up. What was the one in Zeke's blog, Fink?

Oh, I never said that started working. Day after I said it wasn't. No idea what that was about. Could be your perception filter. Could be Blogger glitching out. Who knows? Better question, who cares?

Anyway, I believe the guy who caught me could work for him. Maybe not.

That's all I've got to say really. Like I said, not much of a post.

What Do I Do Now?

I came back yesterday morning in a small room. Gray tile floor. White walls. Door with no handle. Fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Big mirror on the wall. I've seen movies. Knew it looked like an interrogation room.

Waved to the mirror. No response. Walked over and knocked on it. Voice came through a speaker on the wall over the mirror. Didn't notice it before. A man's voice, and all it said is my old name. The one I had when I was a person.

It's weird. I should have been surprised, confused, nervous. But I wasn't. Sort of expected something like this to happen eventually. They'd catch me, find out who I had been, find all the things He did with me. Then they'd try to bring me to court. I'd be told to get a lawyer. Wouldn't really need one. Already have a man-shaped thing in a suit on my case.

Anyway, I shook my head. Pretended to be confused. That's when it stopped being what I expected. He turned the light on in his room, and I could see him. Middle-aged, salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, rugged face. No uniform, just a suit. He had a folder on the desk in front of him, and he took some newspaper clippings out. Started reading one. It was about a fire. A fire that killed my father in July.

My reaction was enough for him to confirm who I was. He nodded. Said he understood why I had lied. Said he knew about my situation. Said he knew my father. Worked with him. Was there when he died. Said the fire was His doing.

I hardly knew my father. He left when I was still a toddler. I know what he looked like, but only from pictures. He always sent me birthday cards, never with a return address. My mother said he worked for the CDC. I don't know if he was on that road in my nightmare. He should have been, near the end at least.

As the man behind the glass started to explain how it happened, the light in his room shut off and his voice was cut off by static. I felt dizzy and nauseous. Had to lean on the wall. I knew He had come. After a few minutes, the feeling that He was near went away. I knocked on the window again. No response. I was trapped.

So I slept. Nothing else I could do. Nobody came all day. No wi-fi in that room either. I hoped He wouldn't just let me starve to death in there. And my hopes were answered. Obviously, or I wouldn't be posting this.

But He didn't keep His part of the deal. My father shouldn't be dead. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Problems and Resolution

This has happened to you. It's hot. You go into a place with AC. You leave. So much hotter. You were handling the heat better before you went inside. That's how I'm feeling. Glimpse of how it could be, then back to how it is. I'm just whining. I'll get used to it again. Oh, and it's hot too. Not the point.

Bigger issue. Too close to where I'm from. Have to avoid being recognized. That would be very bad. But I don't look like I did last I was here. Might not be a problem. If I really come back in my hometown, though, I'd recognize them. Nearly as bad. Reminders of what He's taken. He wouldn't do that. If what Messi saw is the usual, then there's no reason bringing me there. Not a city. Don't even really have a town square. Nowhere good for advertising.

And that's another thing. Advertising? Why does He need to take 12 whole hours for that? Why does He need any time? He's got hostages. I'd do it myself to prevent Him from killing them. Not as bad as I thought it would be. Only part I wouldn't do is use that Path.

The Path. Nobody knows too much about it. Contacted Spencer because I read that he's used it. Gave me some answers. (If you are him, thanks for getting back.) Still, a mystery. That's useful. Useful for what, you ask?

I have some facts. I have some questions. Questions nobody can answer. Up until now, I've tried to ignore the questions. It doesn't work so well. Now I'll come up with a story using the facts to answer the questions. Something I can believe. Then just avoid contrary facts. That's my resolution.

Tentatively Good Mood

You've already seen where I was yesterday. Or maybe your blog following priorities are messed up. I mainly slept all day, but it was in a bed. With a pillow and everything. Would it be pathetic to say that's the highlight of my year so far? Because it was. Not just the bed, but the shower, too.

And the company, of course. Haven't been able to really speak to anybody about any of this. Have to lie to everyone who talks to me. Don't want to get anyone involved who isn't. Haven't run into anybody who is involved. Even if I did, I'd avoid them. They might misunderstand my situation. But yesterday, I got to speak to people who understand. At least in part. And I feel better for it.

But he hasn't put up what happened last night. That's what worries me. Why it's tentative. I wasn't hurt or dirty this morning. So it might not have been too bad. But Messi knows. Maybe Poe. Soon we all will. Have to find a new subtitle.

If it's really bad, I won't blame you for being disgusted at me. If He uses me to strangle kittens or something, I'll be disgusted too.

I'm afraid to know. I need to. But it scares me.

That Went Badly

I felt like distracting myself from reality today. So I went and saw the last Harry Potter movie. Or tried to see it. I saw most of it.

It was good. I still ship Harry/Hermione but I didn't expect any of that from this one. First part had plenty. Their special effects looked good. Neville was epic. They didn't give enough time to showing who died. I'm not a reviewer. Maybe you noticed. Can't speak for the ending either.

See, Harry was fighting Voldemort and it got all distorted. Video tearing, I believe it's called? And the audio got all muffled. Like it was happening underwater. I look around and nobody else is in the theater. Weren't many to start with. And they were all gone. Look back to the screen and there He is.

Not in the theater. In the movie. He took Voldemort's place. Shot out some tentacles and held Harry up. Blood starts pouring from Harry's scar, then his head splits open. It was horrible. Then it was over. Black screen. I left the theater. People reappeared once I came out the door into the hall. It wasn't time for the movie to end. But I wasn't going back in.

I assume the real movie ended like the book. Harry wins. Bunch of people are dead, but evil's gone. Survivors go on with their lives. Stupid epilogue.

Will any of us live to be in the epilogue?

Just Cleaning

I don't like having that post on here as a post. Didn't write it. Doesn't belong here. This is my blog. The posts will be written by me. Not some irritating troll sent by Him.


But what the troll said matters. Sort of. Because it was His will. So here it is:

FRIDAY, AUGUST 5, 2011

lolno

cant let u do that star fox

Posted by some troll at 22:10 

And the comments. Not mine to delete. Except the ones that are. Anyway:

Elaine said...

... Atalanta, what the fuck is going on?

06 August, 2011 00:53

Atalanta said...

Note to self: Log out next time.

But I believe that's the answer to my question. I'm still here since He wants me to be. Of course. Should've known.

06 August, 2011 15:29

Spencer said...

... you remind me of a kid I know. Started babbling about lack of choice and then he turned proxy. Quitter. 

I think you'e better than that, sweetheart. And believe me, people are listening.

07 August, 2011 16:55

Atalanta said...

I made the same choice as your kid. I chose to save half of my life and the lives of everybody else I knew. The right choice.

This blog? Wrong choice. He wanted me to do it. Why? No way to know. But I believe it's the same reasons I want to stop.

What I need to do is make this useful. Just don't know how.

07 August, 2011 18:52


Spencer said...

There's really no answer to that.
I started a courier service.
Elaine started to research.
Konaa vowed to fight.

I guess it's a different choice for everyone.

Either way, it's something that you'll need to decide on your own. Maybe the blog can help....? I don't know.

As for that kid? He did it for a reason. Abandoned his friends for revenge, it seems. Abandoned... pretty much everything, really. Only thing was that he went back on his beliefs.

... I have to wonder. Are we all going to end up doing the same thing...?
08 August, 2011 13:26

Now to get rid of it. If you want to comment on it or these comments, do that on this one.

Why Am I Here?

I don't know why I'm still here. Nobody knew the boy. Nobody ever will. My reason for making this blog is gone. Don't need a blog to talk to myself. Won't change any opinions of me if I do it out loud. Most homeless people are crazy, right?

And talking to you? I'm not helping anyone. I can't. No way to get to people and no useful knowledge. Might even be making things worse. For you and for me. You see this and have more doubts when your own life is on the line. I see you and remember stuff I'd rather forget. Or I start to hate you because you're free.

I'm going to drop out again. Pretend like I don't know about Him. It worked before. He stayed in His half of my life. I'll put this laptop in the briefcase and leave it here outside the McDonalds. If any of you want it and are nearby, go ahead and look for it. Nobody's tried to steal it before. I don't know why, but I don't believe they'd take it now.

Still writing? No, I'm done. I can't do this anymore. There's no point.

It Was Him

I have his wallet. The guy I dated. The one I thought I saw. And I did see him. Here's his license, his debit card, his library card, all of it. But I don't know why.

If you're jumping to bad conclusions, you're not alone. I waste too much time on maybes. Not doing that again. You can come up with plenty yourselves. As always, I'll never know. Neither will you, unless you're psychic. Is it weird I still doubt psychics when I'm being mind-controlled by an evil god?

Hard to know what to do with this. Not without knowing how come I've got it. What He made me do to him.

That's awkward. Hope my pronouns aren't confusing anyone. I just don't like any of the names for Him. They're descriptive, but they don't describe the important things. And a lot of them are just goofy.

I was trying to write about this wallet. Should I get rid of it? Hold onto it? It could be evidence, right? There's already been plenty of evidence. I should have been arrested a hundred times. Am I invisible to police? I don't even know there was a crime here. He could have just dropped it and I picked it up, even when it wasn't really me. No, that's dumb.

Here, I'm just typing to myself and nobody wants to read this. I'll finish it up.

That Was Close

I believe I just saw one of the guys I dated in high school. But there's no way, right? This isn't anywhere near where we went to school, and he went to Northeastern. He wouldn't be in North Carolina. It's too unlikely. Must have just looked like him. Except, he looked at me funny. Maybe it was only after I looked at him funny. I don't know.

If it was him, I'm glad he didn't say anything. I'm supposed to be dead. How could I explain any of this?

It doesn't matter. He left, whoever he was. Just a close call. I've been lucky, not having to get too close to the places where people would know me.

I've been lucky overall. My half of life isn't fun. Not what I dreamed of, for sure. But it could be so much worse. Could be itching to kill people. Could be a zombie. Instead, I'm a paid employee. I even get benefits like this computer. And I'm alive. Put it that way, it sounds peachy.

Tomb of the Unknowns

He's been dragging me around Maryland and Virginia the past few days. Today I'm in Arlington. It's a county and a city, somehow.

I took a walk over to the cemetery earlier after eating. The big one. Been thinking about death lately. It fit. Went around, checking out the monuments. Looked for graves with my old name.

And I saw the Tomb of the Unknowns. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Whatever name you like. It made me think of the boy who died and made me start this blog. He was unknown, to me and to all of you. Maybe the police identified him, let his family know. Unless they were dead too.

Are we soldiers? Is this a war? And why haven't they noticed us yet? People on both sides are dying. The kid I found killed. The kid Lucas killed. Cam. Caper. Robert Sagel. My friend. My mother. My coach. So many others.

How haven't they connected the dots? I know Zeke Strahm is or was a cop. I should get around to reading his blogs. But he's not the only intelligent cop out there, right? They can't all be incompetent. Shouldn't people like Morningstar be on a terrorist watch list by now?

Maybe this all makes perfect sense. I haven't slept enough for months, so maybe I'm just missing the obvious. All I've got is that He kills or takes the ones who notice. Even then, those people should be noticed.

What Happened?

I came back to bruises and scraped knees. I have a black eye.

What happened last night?

Not a mugging. I have my money, the briefcase, the laptop.

Maybe a Runner fought me? But I'm not locked up, or dead. Would you just leave one of us bruised?

Maybe He did this? I can't predict Him. Can't rule it out, but it doesn't seem right.

It could have been anything. Maybe I fell down the stairs. Walked into a door. Those cliche abuse excuses. This isn't the first time it happened. Might never know how I end up a punching bag. Might be better not knowing.

I shouldn't whine. It's what I have to live with, if I want to live at all. If I want them to live at all. Rebelling against Him would get everyone I cared about killed. It wouldn't stop at bruising. No, down that road is bleeding, vomiting, dying. I have to remember that. Even when I see you partying, drinking, going to concerts, loving, I can't forget that you're all suffering too. You're just putting on positive faces. Nobody wins.

But I lost.

Whining again. I'll stop here. Take some more aspirin and listen to music for a while.

In That Case

The briefcase is open. But it's too crazy to just start with what's inside.

The briefcase was still there Saturday morning. There was blood on it. And on my clothes. It was still locked, but now there was something inside. Something that sloshed around.

Oh, and I was standing in this huge forest on a mountainside. So I was panicking. I started screaming. Nobody came. I don't know how I would have explained myself if they had.

I calmed myself down after a while. Decided to walk down the slope and look for a trail. I found a stream and used it to wash some of the blood from my clothes and the briefcase. It's even more slippery when wet. And still cold. Actually, that part was a relief in the heat.

I did find the trail, but by the time I reached the parking area I was exhausted. I always am when I come back, and hiking around only added to it. I don't know how I found the energy. Only one empty car was parked there. I slept on the grass.

A woman who looked about 50 woke me up, asking if I was alright. I made up some story about having been hiking with friends and getting lost and left behind. She bought it. I got a free ride to Clearfield, Pennsylvania since that's where she lives. I slept through most of the drive, but still had to do some serious lying. I felt awful.

I didn't get to eat that day. My daily wages had to be spent on new clothes. Thank god for Walmart. I should be on that People of Walmart site. A dirty, sweaty 19-year-old woman shopping for cheap clothes with a fancy briefcase.

And the briefcase had mostly stopped sloshing by that point. Then yesterday morning, it was back to being liquid inside. Heavier than Saturday. Without the hiking to worry about I was able to keep track of it. It slowly changed from liquid to solid. By the end of my day the stuff inside was hard.

This morning, it was unlocked. Inside was a laptop. A Dell Inspiron 14R.

No, I don't get it either. All I know is, He gave me a briefcase that made a laptop out of... something else. Maybe I should thank Him, but I won't. A computer doesn't make up for all that He's taken.

It's pretty nice, though.

This Is New

I saw Him today. It's been so long. I had nearly forgotten just how unnatural He looks. I'm not a good enough writer to give you a good explanation. But then you've all seen Him, or you wouldn't be reading this.

I was leaving Wendy's when He appeared. Right there, on the sidewalk. Nobody else noticed Him. They just walked around Him. I dropped to my knees and lowered my head. People noticed that. But I was too busy to care. Too busy fighting the nausea, the dizziness. The fast food wasn't helping.

He dropped a briefcase. That's the new thing I meant in the title. After a few minutes, my head cleared. He was gone. The briefcase remained. I picked it up. I knew He wanted me to. He wouldn't have done it otherwise.

Anyway, I have His briefcase right here. It looks sort of like the one I put in above this paragraph. The biggest visible difference is there's no keyhole. It's locked, and it can't be unlocked. Doesn't feel like there's much inside. Oh, but that's the weird part. It doesn't feel like leather. It's cold, even in the hot sun, and it's slippery. I must have dropped it half a dozen times already. It smells bad too, like a hospital.

It's unpleasant and people keep looking at me funny for having it. I don't want to keep it for long. He can have it back, and the sooner the better.

On another unrelated note, for anybody who has contacted me by email or will do so, ignore the name I gave them. It's not mine and never was. Doesn't mean anything either, not like Atalanta.

A Mask and Other Things

I came back this morning with a mask on. Just cheap white plastic with a little elastic strap. Undecorated. I threw it out.

That doesn't fly with me. He can get another one if He really wants me to wear it. I'll throw that one out too. A mask makes me a target for the ones who fight back. I'd keep what life I do have, if it's up to me.

Now, what else is there to say? Oh, I should thank Elaine for the kind words in her post: http://takethemyth.blogspot.com/2011/07/new-mission-statement.html. She said that I was one of the nice ones on this side, and a decent person. I'll have to look into the others she linked there when I find the time. Anyway, that brought some views in.

Nobody who could help identify the boy yet, though. It's been three weeks now. Maybe this kid was alone. Somebody must have introduced him, though. He must have told somebody about it. Are they just not blog people, like I wasn't? Or are they all dead too?

As for my efforts to save up and buy a computer, it won't work. I had saved up almost $60, and then He took it back. Or, again, it might not be Him in charge of my finances. I can't know. But it's His orders, surely. And He doesn't want me to buy a computer. When He doesn't want me doing something, He finds a way to stop me. I was lucky that He took the money now instead of later.

Independence Day

What a joke. I didn't even get to see any fireworks, since those happened during His half.

I was unable to get to a computer all weekend. I'm in Chicago now. I was yesterday too. It makes me nervous being here. I know who was in Chicago recently and I'm sure you do too. Maybe he's left. What if I'm here to scare him away, though? Or go after the new kid? No, I shouldn't think about it. It's all up to Him.

So about computers, I checked at a Best Buy and they have a little netbook for only $240. If I try and save up the money I get, I could buy one. Then I'd be set. WiFi is all over the place. My concern is that He wouldn't let me keep it. But I think it's worth a try. Especially if I want to keep this blog.

Not that I have very much to say. What else is there? Doesn't seem like any of you knew that boy. I'll go try and advertise again now. I hate leaving these unrelated comments. I wish there was a more reliable way of spreading the word.

Also, the biggest non-essential cost to me right now is bribes to get on computers. That means I won't be on much until I save up enough. I'll make sure to post if I get killed.

My Story

Unless I tell you how I came to this situation, I can't expect you to understand it. So here it is.

It all started when my friend showed me EverymanHYBRID last September. I really didn't get why there was a guy in a suit and they kept having technical difficulties. So my friend showed me the KnowYourMeme site about Him. I laughed. It was just so ridiculous.

That night I had a nightmare. I was running down a street in the dark, and then it forked off. I stopped at the fork and looked down both roads. On the left there was a line of people standing in the road. People I knew. He was standing in the right-hand road. My dream self did what made sense and ran down the left road. But as I passed the first person, my mother, she died. It wasn't detailed or anything, but I knew she was dead. And I kept running. One by one, every person I ran past died. I woke up, and I knew why people were afraid of Him.

I believe most of you know what it's like when He's after you. I won't go through it all. But after just a couple weeks, my mother died. They said it was an animal attack, probably a rabid dog that caught her napping in the hammock in our yard. I knew otherwise. That night I had the nightmare again, except my mother was dead to start with.

While I mourned, I tried to spend as much time as I could with others. I thought that might protect me. And it did. It was the friend who introduced me who died next. With him, the police suspected murder. They went through his stuff, and found his journal. I didn't understand it then, because I had never even seen Marble Hornets, but that symbol was all over the journal. After I heard the news, I had the dream for the third time.

I switched strategies, interacting with as few people as possible to save them from being collateral damage. I kept running, though. It was always my coping strategy, so I threw myself into it harder than ever. My coach was the next to die. I never found out what they thought had happened to her. When the nightmare came for the fourth time, I finally ran down the right path. Toward Him. As I ran in the dream, I split in two and was running beside myself. He grabbed the me beside me and started working the other me like a puppet.

Early the next morning, I wrote out a suicide note. I said that I would throw myself into the ocean. Then I walked to the harbor. It wasn't the most convincing suicide, but in a way that's what I was really doing. He met me there on the docks. I took his offer and He took half of my life.

Now that you've read my story, maybe you understand a bit better. I never wanted to join Him, but He wanted me. I still don't know why. Maybe I can help some of you, but don't try to help me. It's much too late.

Where Are You All?

After He got me, I put all thoughts of what He does and who He does it to out of mind. I was still in mourning for those He killed to get me, and I was disoriented by the way He was using me. I forgot about those He hunts, focusing on living my half of life as well as I could. Even when I knew I was being used against you Runners, I avoided thinking about it.

I think I wrote before that I didn't read your blogs. I only knew the big names. M. Zeke. Robert. After I started this blog, I went looking for those three. M and Zeke, at least, are still alive. I'm not sure about Robert. His last writing sounded like he was dying, or at least losing his mind. I commented on The Tutorial, and if you are reading this today, that's how. I couldn't bear to comment on the last thing Zeke wrote, not to talk about a dead boy.

Things have changed since He got me. Looking at those three made it clear. Zeke's situation is better than my own, even if it won't last. I don't know anybody anymore. He killed my mother, my coach, and my best friend. That was enough for me to give up. I faked my own death and made a deal with Him. The person I was is dead.

Look at me, pulling out the cliche angst when I only meant to ask a question. Namely, where are you all now? What are the new big names, the most-read blogs? I don't have time to go clicking around on all the commenters to find them. Not with 12 hours to a day and no computer of my own.

Why I'm Here

I was never going to make a blog. When He started hunting me, my life was too full with training and school. I knew that others had blogs, but didn't take the time to read them. That could be why He won.

See, I'm not one of you. I'm no Runner, no Fighter. He got me. He took half of my life and all of the meaning in it.

This isn't going well. Writing has never been my strength. Running was my strength. Not your kind of Running. Just running. He doesn't let me do that anymore. Not while I'm in control. But that's only half of the time.

He gives me 12 hours a day and takes 12 to use me for whatever it is He needs. During my time, I'm mostly free. He won't let me run, as I said, and He won't let me die. I have to use my time to eat and sleep, but He gives me an allowance. Or maybe it isn't Him, but another like me. Once my time is up, my mind just shuts off.

I don't know what He uses me for. I know I come back in strange places most of the time, sometimes a few towns over, sometimes even a few states. Sometimes I come back hurt or filthy. I just didn't care. Until today.

Today, I came back to myself in some empty warehouse. I looked down and was faced with a dead body. His face was untouched, so I could see by the lack of facial hair he was young. 14 or so, I think. Just a kid, and there he was with his abdomen all chopped up, lying in a pool of blood and other fluids. And I was there holding a machete, the blade smeared with the same.

How do you react to that? I dropped the weapon and got out. He won't let me run because He knows that running was my life, but I walked as fast as I could. I vomited too, right before I got out the warehouse door. Once I was out, I saw that I was in a city, one I didn't recognize. I walked until I saw an empty park bench, and slept there.

I'd love to be able to say that I was tossing and turning, haunted by that gruesome scene. But I slept sound for  five hours despite the uncomfortable "bed". The haunting started when I woke up. I went out and picked up some fast food. I never touched this stuff until He got me. Since then I don't have the money for anything better.

Now I'm using a computer in the Kansas City Public Library. It's a nice building, and the librarians haven't bothered me. I have another hour until He takes me, but I'm getting out of here before then. I have another dollar and some cents, so I can grab another burger.

So here it is, the reason I'm starting this blog: I want to know who He made me kill. The boy had brown hair, in a buzz cut. I can't remember what color his eyes were, but he had glasses. He looked around my height, 5'5". If anybody knows him or thinks they might, let me know. I doubt I'll still be around here tomorrow, but I'll be able to check this blog.