A journal entry 2

By Asa Montreaux 

Night after night the man was trying to convince me to do this. Trying to play with my head. Months in advance. In January he started spending the whole night walking around in circles trying to influence my dream. He shout ‘heart attack’, or ‘stop’, then he’d go ‘run, run’ and shake his hands around like the boogey man. Sometimes he’d say, hey Andrew, you awake? And if I answered, yes. Then he’d say. Die that night, the attack got weirder and weirder. He’d run into my room, and grab me and say die that night, or I’ll fucking kill you. He’d shake me. A few night, well, several nights, he tried to slit my wrists. To make me hate myself, he’d sat sometimes, like he didn’t remember the last time. Sometimes I even woke up with a knick on my wrists. I wouldn’t explain what happen. I probably even implied I cut myself. I had not. It was Jamie who was struggling with me, trying to overpower me, and slit my wrists very deeply. Other nights he rushed at me with a gun. He left a bullet hole in the bed. At the end of January he ran in five nights in a row with a gun. He fired all five times. He left a bullet hole in the window. And then he left shrapnel in my forearm the last night. I had to have it removed at the hospital. He was arrested and spent two months in jail. Needless to say, when he came back, he went insane.


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