Welcome to the next episode of Archi’s Diary, a weekly entry in my favorite amnesiac’s journal as he tries to adjust to a world he doesn’t remember. Still going strong with the placeholder image for now but should change soon.
Episode 10 – March 2016
This is so fucked. This is so fucked. This is so fucked.
Steve is dead.
Had to stay a few days more, but when I was leaving he tried to knock me out. I don’t know why, but Inger might ordered it. I guess they were watching me through the smartphone the whole time and my little act was discovered. When I managed to avoid the initial blow, he snapped. Just snapped. You could see it in his eyes. Suddenly I was less than an animal, a bug to be squashed, when I dared to fight back, when I dared to defy him.
That’s when he came at me, like he was possessed by some demon, all fury and aggression. He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut me again and again. My arms got really badly lacerated, but he was too aggressive for his own good. I managed to dodge a slash at my neck and trip him up. He stabbed himself. The knife was deep in his bicep, blood gushing out. He must have hit an artery, but he didn’t even care. He jerked out the blade, but it was slippery with blood and slipped from his fingers. So I picked it up to defend myself. I don’t recall many details after that but it wasn’t a quick death. He came at me again, but I somehow stabbed him in the stomach and then held him down. He couldn’t use his injured arm, I just held him there until he bled out.
The room got really really quiet. Some time passed as I sat there still holding him, but nobody came to check. None of the neighbours called the police. (Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any neighbours here at any time; just Steve, and the landlord on occasion.) I realised that I had to move, when I noticed that Steve’s door was open. On Willy’s recommendation I read Dexter a few weeks ago and Steve’s room looked just like a murder room described in the book… Was it made for me? I mean, who else would it be for? Sheets of plastic covered the walls, ceiling and floor, bone saw and other instruments of pain in the corner, black sacks prepped. He was planning for the eventuality of murdering me. So I left immediately.
Right now I’m sitting behind the train station, in a small patch of forest, bandaging my arms and writing this. I don’t think I was followed, as I kept to the shadows and side roads to get here, but I can’t be certain. I changed my clothes before leaving, grabbed everything I could. I lost the memory stick, which flew off the table to some hidden dark location during the scuffle and I couldn’t find it again. What do I do now? I need help. But what the hell can I do? Who do I turn to? I have no ID, there is no record of me anywhere. None I know of… Anyone could assume it was my murder room (except I would use lye with a heat source and a bathtub) and arrest me on the spot.
I just hope I made it out in secret. I can’t take this any more, I have to leave and go as far away I can from all the lies… Just go anywhere I can be anonymous and think things through. I did consider telling Willy, but I don’t want to involve him; it might even turn out that he’s is part of this…
End of episode 10. Share, like and follow for weekly updates. Thank you for reading.