I shouldn't be writing. It's irresponsible. And silly. I doubt any of you care. And if you do, that's worse. If I could, I would delete this blog. Turn around and forget. Make everyone forget with me. But I can't. I can't talk to anyone. Can't deal with what's happened on my own. So I write. I write and I send it out to the internet, where I hope that no one who doesn't already know finds it. I write because I don't know what else to do.
Anya has been lying to me.
It isn't anything big, or anything I really blame her for, but I feel like I could have helped her more if she had told me everything. I probably couldn't have, but the thought's still there.
I'm at her house, by the way. She's sitting next to me, eating microwave popcorn and being the sulky new Anya I've come to know these past few weeks. And now I know why.
I thought that it would be a good idea to drop by her school today. Thought she'd like someone to walk home with. I got there a little early, and was just waiting. Nothing else to do but wait. That's when I saw him.
He was standing to the side of a tree, just staring at the school patiently. Just waiting too. I didn't see him at first. He was a few feet away, blending in. Just waiting. Then I looked over, and he looked at me too.
Do you remember seeing Star Wars for the first time? Specifically towards the beginning, with the entrance of Darth Vader. When I first saw that, it was as if all the air in the room had rushed out, and all that was left was this dark menacing figure. Nobody fictional or real had done this to me since.
He looked mostly like I thought he would, of course. Tall, thin, dressed in a black business suit. He did have a face, like Anya had said, but I can't actually tell you what they looked like. The descriptions slipped from my head the moment I saw him, and none of his features were memorable.Except for his eyes.
I can't even remember what they looked like, but they stared into me. They stared through me.I've forgotten them, but I'll always remember.
God, that doesn't even make sense.
I don't know how long we stared at each other. All I remember is snapping back to reality when someone took my hand. It was Anya.
"Don't worry." she said, "He won't do anything yet." And then we went home.
This isn't a bald man stalking Anya. It isn't human at all. Anya knew of course, there is no way not to know. But she didn't want to worry anyone too much. Didn't want anyone to call her crazy.
So she lied.
But she doesn't have to lie any more. I saw him, and I believe her now.
And it's my fault.