Clayre. Mary.
I've gotten your emails. I'm sorry I can't tell you where I am.
I hope you realize it's for the best. Don't try to find me.
I don't want you to get more wrapped up in this mess than you already have.
I love you both. Even you, Mary--you're like the sister I never really wanted, until I had her. Whereas Clayre actually is the sister I never really wanted.
...but I'm making too light of it. Please. Take care of yourselves.
And don't follow me.
Showing posts with label Clayre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Clayre. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 24, 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?
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.
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