Journal entry 6

By Asa Montreaux 

So it went on like that throughout the year. Leading up to the tournament, he tried to kill every night he was around. And to be bluntly honest, sometimes someone stepped in and shot him, dead. Someone from around, and maybe not. It was never me and I never asked, but it was whoever. Most of the time he wasn’t around in the day, and the whole day. But as I mentioned, he would hang out all night with a gun. And so maybe. I was in trouble with a gang, and obviously there was just a gang after me. I was not in trouble at all. It had to do with the fame I had, and the money I had.

I was in Vancouver a lot that semester, though I was back and forth from here in LA. After the end of the school year, as this was the spring semester, I chose to not do that anymore. It seemed there were reasons to be here at the time though. I was playing junior a though I won’t say were, and I actually missed quite a few games. I had other responsibilities. I wasn’t playing any junior b, and I never had, no matter what anyone says. I guess the other important thing was protecting my houses. I was already done with Harvard, and I was kind of two young to continue with grad school, and besides the I had to wait until next year to begin a program. So I did apply and the next year I started an ma in economics.

I hadn’t seriously played on Juvenile aaa, but I thought might be fun if I play the tournament, and I thought it might be a chance to prove myself. No one was doing me a favor by asking me to play on the team. But I figured I’d play at least a few games. 

When the tournament came, I took it easy in the first game. I only scored three points. I heard I really played below my level, and maybe I’d really had my ability go downhill. Then in the second game I tried only slightly harder. I scored five points. And in the finals, I did for most of the game try pretty hard, I scored seven points. Though will say nine because they disallowed two goals. At the end of the game we were losing by too many points, so I guess I wasn’t try hard at that point. I wasn’t going to run my points up any higher.

To my chagrin, and to anyone else’s the chants got worse and worse as the tournament approached, and especially as it was happening. About a week and a half before the tournament started, I received 103 text messages to kill yourself. And 15 that said on a run. I had no desire to kill myself. I have never told anyone until now I had received another 36 messages that said or we’ll kill you. So there was some pressure to do this or else I’d lose my life. Though apparently this would be the end of my life any ways.

I consistently just thought I have to ignore and be firm in my own mind, and with everyone else, that I don’t have to do it. Though one day, I received so many messages, like the ones I described, though I have already counted all of those accurately, but also long-winded arguments for why you kill yourself, appealing to my emotions and everything. They’ll say, and new message, it was for the best. We want to be Andrew Garfield, and so on.

So one day someone text me try to make a list of reasons, new text to kill yourself, new text or to not kill yourself then new text to be, or new text not kill yourself. It occurred to me I had to have more reasons both to defend my position and fight off theirs. This was exactly what they figured I would not do, if I was going to survive, so I wrote down some reason to run and not run. There was million reasons not to try kill yourself through exertion, and what, drugs? But there was only one reason that I came up with, and it something that I always thought was a bad idea, but that these people that played Jamie often mentioned. If you survive you could get an ultrasound. I guess they meant to say echocardiograms are only for people who really need them. It occurred to me right away that was bullshit. And I set one up. I got it just fine, it was cardiologist, and not with a regular doctor, and everything went fine, though they said I had a very young heart and I was clearly a younger man, than had been indicated.

So that took care of that. Though they spent hours every day chanting around in the house outside a room that I was in, outside my bedroom, often I suppose, about how it had not really happened, or it was not definite and they needed one more. So that would need more proof was the only thing that almost got to me. That they wouldn’t accept it? And wouldn’t stop their siege? For Andrew Garfield’s house? Well I guess it occurred I might get one next year to prove it again, and that’s the only thought that occurred.

As the tournament approached, I was getting just a little worried that I’d want a new one right away. And they were always saying something about how it be harder to get one the second time around. Well clearly that would be just hypochondria, though they never made an argument so clear, and I never explained it to them, that they could make one that clear. So they wouldn’t give on to you, because that would be unnecessary. The results were definitive, and they would save appointments for people who need results for maladies whose specifics were more uncertain.

Well, it occurs to me now its no reason they tried to steal my money every time I received pay. If they weren’t threatening my life, they were threatening my career. They said they’d bring down every career I’d ever had, delete almost everything, everything they could, take all the pay—so that was a clear threat, made in advance—they would destroy my life, delete every Facebook and even a whole account, every twitter follower they said, and they said they’d take them over and destroy the earth with “it”. Obviously they meant them.

I guess every night whoever was in the suit, and lots of women around, not necessarily young, kept track of how I hadn’t played in the games, behaving like they were so sweet an innocent, despite they were completely trying to steal intellectual property, and actually property, including millions of dollars of cash. And take the lives of young people, and every many, many people. I noted in a journal they were part of a larger cult. I’d heard about it a bit on the news, and I could find a little bit about it online. I’d found a few documentaries about it that I had watched as well. There were mission was to kill all their members, and everyone on earth.

I realized I would have to really suit up, even though that was almost like giving into demands. Before the first two games, a line up of young cult woman lined up inside the house, all the way to the garage in back, and stood there, their faces not moving, though watching me. There was at least two of them that gone every time. I walked right past them, and then to the car, and drove to the rink. 

The day of the finals, I woke up earlier than people in the city might have expected, around eight, as the game wasn’t until eleven. I came upstairs for a bit, just to make them think I would go out that way. Someone came to my bedroom window, and asked me, shouting, whether I was going to play. I said I would. And play hard, she asked. I said I would. She said so you’ll die, when you run after, clearly mocking me, and I guess anyone that ever speaks. Then she asked and you’ll run after? I lied I would. And then asked, so hard, you’ll die? And I lied I would do that, also.

A few moments after, someone in the Dad suit, who had been standing around listening during the conversation, fired a shot up into the ceiling. And shouted, “It’s on!” It was a blank, though then the person went and loaded it with bullets that that person had left on the counter. The person just said, if he doesn’t do it, I’ll kill him myself. After. And then they added, the night. 

I figured I just need to stick the plan, which was to keep my head clear the whole game. And when I got home nothing was to happen. I would just sit down in bed, not sleep and everything would be fine. And I just had to basically avoid the thought altogether. It wouldn’t be necessary to save my life, and killing myself would obviously be the end. So the only option was to try to save it.

Although they heckled me during the game, shouting he’s gonna die, he’s gonna die, we’re gonna kill him, and they even fired the gun at one point, everything went fine. And though we lost, and it wasn’t my fault, I had a very good game. And I felt I could walk away from hockey if I wanted to. You know, on a relatively good note.

When I came home there was no one in back, but there had been a few women in side, they were shocked to see me home. Though they couldn’t help but remark I was gorgeous. And to be honest, they were extremely ugly girls. They didn’t deserve my career. I told them right then and there they were far too large to play me in body suits.

I felt chilled out and relaxed, and I was just watching movies on my laptop, and things started going haywire. And the women in a bodysuit, after shouting out random things, and realizing for herself that I wasn’t going on a run, as I clearly wasn’t, came in my room, with the gun and pointed it right at me. ‘You didn’t go on a run,” she said. ‘No, I have to kill you.” I only sat there. I didn’t turn and it was kind of pointed at my shoulder. “Don’t do it,” I said, as if she was going to kill herself. And that trick worked. She pointed the gun right at her head. Then another women, who had been just standing around, walking in circles, walked quite determinedly in, and grabbed her and pulled her away out of my room. ‘You’re welcome,” she said. Though she had only saved the shooter. To be honest, it was me who saved myself. At that point, she had been neutralized, the shooter, I mean.

After that, she raved madly thinking about why she hadn’t succeeded in shooting me. Then a group of three girls burst in. They asked her why she hadn’t shot me. Eventually, she said she had failed to kill me, and they shot her. And then they took off.

That night they attacked me as best they could. I barricaded my room so no one could get in at all. They tried to bang it down several times. Then they ganged up outside my bedroom door, and in on the other side of my room, and outside the window. And as I was sleeping the all started chanting, try to control my dreams. They started, this isn’t what happened, but we’re going to lie. And they went into a story about how I’d kill myself now. And the a story where they tried to reimagine the night. I sort of felt I needed to know what this night looked like, so I got a few flashes of a sort of different night, though I woke up and told them get lost. A little later on, they tried crawling through my window, though they couldn’t. So they decided to break the class. Though I told them if they did that, they’d surely be caught. There would be evidence. So they took off. I woke up a few more times in the night, a few more bangs in the night, a few text messages, but I wasn’t going to let anyone come over. And then I woke up in the morning and went on with my life. It had passed and I went on without any trauma, and most importantly, alive.


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