Twice, this week, I've seen the man in white. Always when I'm alone in the house--save for the police. He always disappears before I can call them over. I wonder...is he the Chrysanthemum Slasher? Could I have stopped this before it happened? Is Tam's blood on my hands?
I can't stop thinking about it. I've talked with the others about it, and the police. I haven't seem him since and the police are setting up more patrols to look for him.
I should be scared. But I'm not. The void inside me is finally fading, after weeks of suffering, of numbness, I've finally found my true response. The emptiness is gone.
In its place is now rage.
I have been sulking around like a wounded animal. Like a dog that can't get over its master's death and has decided to waste away rather than live without him. That will not be how Ashleigh Torn is remembered.
It's time to get mad.
I won't cower. I won't simply walk into death. I am not letting my baby die.
If this bastard comes for me, I will be kicking and screaming. I give my word on that.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Greetings from protective custody
There is nothing quite like being woken the day after your fiance has been found dead in your very own place of residence by the police.
To answer any questions, I am fine, for the moment. Though, perhaps, a better way to say that is I am numb, for the moment. I feel cold, cold and empty. It will probably pass in time, but for now, I feel nothing. Clayre, Erika, and Mary all worry for me, but they shouldn't. This has wounded me, it has cut me very deeply, but I will survive, and I will scar over, and I will be a better person for this.
I have almost repeated that enough that I believe it.
At any rate, you have probably gained additional questions due to my rather attention-gathering post title. I had thought of perhaps doing something a bit less gaudy, but in the end, I went with shock value. Gauche, I know.
I am being held by the police, for my own good.
Apparently, the death of Tam, coupled with the lead-up to his murder, follow the pattern of a serial killer known as "the Chrysanthemum Slasher". Given the pattern of the Slasher, either I, someone Tam knows, or someone I know could be the next victims. So, I have police watching my movements at all hours of the night. Clayre and Mary and Erika have been staying with me at a house where we can all be watched carefully "for our own protection".
...and I honestly do not care if I am next.
I know that sounds terrible. I just do not care anymore. It's not that I don't want to live anymore. I just don't care if I die.
Yes, I know this means the baby would die too, but...I feel like a horrible person, but I have a hard time caring about that either. You didn't see what his body looked like. The pain he must have gone through. he must have been so scared, so alone. The killer took his heart. He took my Tam's heart. Why would someone do that to someone else? What sort of world am I bringing this child into, where someone will do that to another human being?
To answer any questions, I am fine, for the moment. Though, perhaps, a better way to say that is I am numb, for the moment. I feel cold, cold and empty. It will probably pass in time, but for now, I feel nothing. Clayre, Erika, and Mary all worry for me, but they shouldn't. This has wounded me, it has cut me very deeply, but I will survive, and I will scar over, and I will be a better person for this.
I have almost repeated that enough that I believe it.
At any rate, you have probably gained additional questions due to my rather attention-gathering post title. I had thought of perhaps doing something a bit less gaudy, but in the end, I went with shock value. Gauche, I know.
I am being held by the police, for my own good.
Apparently, the death of Tam, coupled with the lead-up to his murder, follow the pattern of a serial killer known as "the Chrysanthemum Slasher". Given the pattern of the Slasher, either I, someone Tam knows, or someone I know could be the next victims. So, I have police watching my movements at all hours of the night. Clayre and Mary and Erika have been staying with me at a house where we can all be watched carefully "for our own protection".
...and I honestly do not care if I am next.
I know that sounds terrible. I just do not care anymore. It's not that I don't want to live anymore. I just don't care if I die.
Yes, I know this means the baby would die too, but...I feel like a horrible person, but I have a hard time caring about that either. You didn't see what his body looked like. The pain he must have gone through. he must have been so scared, so alone. The killer took his heart. He took my Tam's heart. Why would someone do that to someone else? What sort of world am I bringing this child into, where someone will do that to another human being?
Monday, August 13, 2012
nononononononono
oh god please no
no no no
i don't know what
i didn't
no no no no no no no
This is Erika. I have made Ashleigh take a sleeping pill and lie down. Because she is still out of sorts, I will finish this for her.
The details are sketchy, but from what I can gather, when Ashleigh came home on Friday, she found the body of Tam, her fiance, on her bed in her apartment. I will not go into the details on the cause of death or the extent of his injuries--suffice it to say, it is fairly impossible for his death to have been anything save foul play. None currently know how his body was taken here--there were no witnesses, and Mary was home the entire time and heard and saw nothing.
She may not post in this blog for a while. She asked me to say that specifically.
Please, have patience with her. This is a very trying time for her.
oh god please no
no no no
i don't know what
i didn't
no no no no no no no
This is Erika. I have made Ashleigh take a sleeping pill and lie down. Because she is still out of sorts, I will finish this for her.
The details are sketchy, but from what I can gather, when Ashleigh came home on Friday, she found the body of Tam, her fiance, on her bed in her apartment. I will not go into the details on the cause of death or the extent of his injuries--suffice it to say, it is fairly impossible for his death to have been anything save foul play. None currently know how his body was taken here--there were no witnesses, and Mary was home the entire time and heard and saw nothing.
She may not post in this blog for a while. She asked me to say that specifically.
Please, have patience with her. This is a very trying time for her.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Siblings
Clayre has been here two days and I already sort of want to strangle her. But I suppose that would be a success in her book. It's hard for me to mourn and fret when I wish to flay my sibling alive and roll her still-conscious body in salt and lemon juice.
But it's good to have her here, vitriol aside. She has helped more than I thought she would. She's pushing my buttons. Keeping me distracted.
It still hurts, but I'm healing. I don't think I will be "better" by any stretch of the imagination for a long time, but I think...I think I might by okay for a while. I hope I can be okay for a while.
She's taking me out for late night ice cream. As much as I abhor to stick to the stereotypical feminine standby for feeling better, that sounds really, really fucking good right now.
But it's good to have her here, vitriol aside. She has helped more than I thought she would. She's pushing my buttons. Keeping me distracted.
It still hurts, but I'm healing. I don't think I will be "better" by any stretch of the imagination for a long time, but I think...I think I might by okay for a while. I hope I can be okay for a while.
She's taking me out for late night ice cream. As much as I abhor to stick to the stereotypical feminine standby for feeling better, that sounds really, really fucking good right now.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Empty
I wish this was not always a broken record these days.
Tam's gone. He's gone.
It hits me in waves. Sometimes, I will be sitting, and it will have, for scant, precious moments, slipped my mind.
And then, it all comes crashing back. The horrible truth of it strikes me like a viper, and I am left broken. Empty.
I love him so much. Is this my fault? Did I chase him away?
Please, Tam. Please, I need you. I can't raise this baby alone. I'm not even sure I can carry her to term on my own.
I feel so weak. I learned to be strong because he believed in me. Now I feel...useless. Pining and worn and tired, so tired. Mary and Erika have tried to slip me drugs, to make me sleep. I can't sleep. What if he calls? What if he needs me but I can't hear the phone? Or I don't get his email in time?
...I should sleep regardless. My sister is coming up tomorrow, to just...help me. I'm not sure what she can do...but...
Goodnight, Tam. I miss you. Come home.
Tam's gone. He's gone.
It hits me in waves. Sometimes, I will be sitting, and it will have, for scant, precious moments, slipped my mind.
And then, it all comes crashing back. The horrible truth of it strikes me like a viper, and I am left broken. Empty.
I love him so much. Is this my fault? Did I chase him away?
Please, Tam. Please, I need you. I can't raise this baby alone. I'm not even sure I can carry her to term on my own.
I feel so weak. I learned to be strong because he believed in me. Now I feel...useless. Pining and worn and tired, so tired. Mary and Erika have tried to slip me drugs, to make me sleep. I can't sleep. What if he calls? What if he needs me but I can't hear the phone? Or I don't get his email in time?
...I should sleep regardless. My sister is coming up tomorrow, to just...help me. I'm not sure what she can do...but...
Goodnight, Tam. I miss you. Come home.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Nothing
I've been tearing Tam's apartment apart for a week now.
Nothing. No hints about where he went, no clues about what happened to him. I go over every day and work for hours and hours. Nothing.
Except for those fucking flowers.
His roommates are reporting that before he vanished, Tam was receiving flowers at a rate of approximately one bouquet a week.
No cards, no florist's mark, price tag, or barcode. No sign they existed at all, really.
I don't understand. Who was sending him these things? Why? Is he hurt? Has someone taken him?
...in other news, I'm getting an automatic A for the semester, given the circumstances. I did not even have to go to my last few history classes.
I wish I could be happy about that.
Nothing. No hints about where he went, no clues about what happened to him. I go over every day and work for hours and hours. Nothing.
Except for those fucking flowers.
His roommates are reporting that before he vanished, Tam was receiving flowers at a rate of approximately one bouquet a week.
No cards, no florist's mark, price tag, or barcode. No sign they existed at all, really.
I don't understand. Who was sending him these things? Why? Is he hurt? Has someone taken him?
...in other news, I'm getting an automatic A for the semester, given the circumstances. I did not even have to go to my last few history classes.
I wish I could be happy about that.
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