Your Mid-Week Update for 02/08/17

You know it’s too cold out when even I don’t want to go out and kill. Winter is such a tumultuous time in my line of work. On one hand, it’s too easy. People can die of exposure and fatal car accidents with little effort; on the other hand, frost bite. I like the snow and ice that accompany the bitter weather. I can use snow and ice and still complain about it to my coworkers. The cold, biting air is just a nuisance. A dangerous nuisance.

I couldn’t get my car to start yesterday and Ron said I could work from home which was nice because I hated the idea of braving that weather. However, working from home meant that I got to spend the whole day with my two maudlin serial killers.

In case you haven’t quite grasped my situation, both my son and my secretary/friend have killed someone and I have had to clean up after them. The truly tragic thing is that Heather has killed more recently than I have. Because I’ve been so busy cleaning up her mess. It’s been two weeks and she hasn’t left my house. She spent the first two days curled up on my couch not speaking, or eating, or sleeping. And then she spent a week shuffling around the house, switching between screaming and shaking, and crying and eating. I spent $200 on groceries last week because she just kept eating. And her screaming was barely coherent.  She’s officially on medical leave (courtesy of her very understanding boss) which isn’t far from the truth.

I got the full story out of her last week which is what I expected happened. Her ex-husband ran out of money, got drunk, and decided to take her back forcefully. He beat her and demanded that she quit her job so they could move. After all their years of turmoil – fighting, and leaving, and her cheating, and him cheating – she just snapped. She killed him Saturday night and sat with the body until I found her o Tuesday night. I didn’t talk about this last week but the smell was just unbearable. She was more functional at her house with a decaying dead body than she’s been at my house this past week. She’s now at a place when she’s sleeping, and eating, and showering. She talks but only for five or ten minutes at a time and then she’ll start crying or yelling about “her”. Not me or Heather. This mysterious “her”. I have no idea what it’s about but at least she’s talking. We’ve been slipping her half a sleeping pill to calm her down but for the most part, she’s not dealing with what happened.

 Jason has been handling his recent indiscretion with more ease. He spent a few days processing the situation after his father died and then he went back to work and started talking to me again. And I’m keeping to my vow; no more lies. I won’t tell him everything but if he asks me a question, I will answer honestly. This weekend he asked me if I had ever done anything like he had done and I said “yes”. He then asked if I understood what he was dealing with and said “no”. And then he asked me what to do next and I told him that there were two options: he could work to move on and live with the guilt, or he could learn how to do it better next time.

He’s going to start looking for psychotherapists tomorrow.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little hurt by his decision to cope and move away from the family business. After what happened to Sandra, maybe this is for the best. I told him as much but I don’t think he really understand what happened to his sister. He knows more than he did before. He’s growing up in a way I didn’t expect.

I hope he’ll be okay.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Mid-Week Update for 02/01/17

I should apologize for last week; I was genuinely in a rush and didn’t know when I would be able to give you an update so the brief breakdown was all I could provide at the time. But now I have a moment to breathe and I can catch you up on…well, everything.

To start with, I went out for drinks with Heather last Friday (or, I guess two weeks ago). My instincts were correct: she wanted to quit. I tried to talk her out of it, I really did, but she told me she would be sending in her resignation the following Monday. She gave no explanation beyond “It’s time for a change.” When she told me, I was upset. I was more than upset. I can’t quite describe the clench in my heart that made me numb on my drive home. Heather has been a constant in my life for so any years I can’t imagine what life at work would be like without her. I’d be stuck with Lydia and that is just unacceptable. Also for other, sentimental reasons which involve me feeling emotions I can’t quite describe.

Come Sunday, I was practically pacing a hole through the living room, dying to find a way to keep. Heather from leaving. Finally, I drove the half hour to her house and knocked on the door at 10pm. Surprisingly, she opened the door immediately but there was something off about her. She seemed quiet and all together rushed. I would find out later why. When she answered the door, she assured me her decision was not hasty but she would discuss it with me on Monday morning. Lo and behold, Monday morning came and Heather wasn’t at work but no email came in all day. I wanted to give her time to realise what a mistake she was making. Tuesday also came and went with no word from Heather so after work last week, I went to check on her.

I…I

I found her at home, covered in a pool of her ex-husband’s blood on her living room floor. I have never been so proud and so horrified for Heather as I have in that moment. That moment where she looked up from her crumpled position in the corner, tears staining her cheeks, eyes puffy from lack of sleep. I don’t think she’d closed her eyes since Sunday night.

Her ex-husband came back into her life a few weeks ago and was decidedly unhappy with newly found independence. His hold on her was stronger than I’ve ever seen and now he’s dead.

Like I said: proud and horrified.

She said she had to. She kept repeating that over and over again. While I cleaned up her mess, while I washed the blood off her walls, while I dragged her into the car while I grabbed my shovel. After all that, she was completely numb. I think her husband attacked her – beat her. I still don’t know how to help her. She’s been staying with me for the past week with no objection from the others. I haven’t forced her to go back to work or talk about what’s happened but it’s been a quiet, somber week in the house.

I can’t believe it’s come to this. There are three killers in my house and I’m comforting both of them.

Heather killed someone.

I don’t mean to gloss over it but I’m still coming to terms with it.

That’s been happening a lot lately. First Jason, then Heather. My worlds are colliding. I don’t like it. This is what I always wanted but not this way.

Definitely not this way.

I must attend to the numb zombies in my living room.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Mid-Week Update for 01/25/17

I don’t have time to talk right now; I need to grab the shovel, wake up Jason, kick James off of the couch, buy groceries, rehire Heather, and deal with this raging migraine.

You know, it would be logical to write this update later when I have more time and more information to give.

But that’s less dramatic. And what’s the fun in that?

So instead I’ll let you sit with your questions and wild imagination for another week when I’ll hopefully have more time to explain just what the fuck has happened to my January.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe 

Your Mid-Week Update for 01/18/17

The thing I know you’re all wondering about – Jason – is still a work in progress but there has been progress so I haven’t quite lost hope.

He came to me Friday and asked me about Sandra’s final days. Just like that, no prompting, no warning, he just sat down beside me at the breakfast table and asked me what really happened to Sandra. I told him the truth, of course I did. I’m not going to lie to him anymore. About the big things; I’m still his mother, I can lie to him if I want to.

I was late to work but I told him about Daniel’s delusions, Sandra’s recent hobby, and that Daniel got what he deserved for what he did. I didn’t go into detail but he if asked, I would have. I told him that Sandra had urges she couldn’t control and that she knew more than she ever told either of us. Oh, I know there are things my daughter never told me. I wouldn’t expect things to be any different; but the secrets she kept from Jason were always for his protection. You may not think he needs it – especially after what’s happened – but I will keep the tradition going. He will come into his own eventually but until then, I will protect him from my world.

After we had our talk, he apologized and went back up to his room. It was over as abruptly as it had begun. He’s still processing and I don’t blame him, I just hate that it’s taking so long. He’s following his normal routine but he’s not interacting with James or I when he’s at home. It’s frustrating.

What’s more frustrating is that James hasn’t been home lately. He comes home after working erratic hours and goes straight to bed because he’s tired. I don’t doubt that he’s exhausted, I hate that he won’t talk to me about his day. Or about anything. He didn’t even come home Monday night because he thought it was easier to sleep at the station.

You, dear readers, have been my only outlet lately. James hasn’t been around for any of Jason’s struggles. I just feel alone right now. I need to be home for Jason but I can’t stand it; the isolation is killing me but I’m not killing others. I need an indoor hobby to keep my occupied. Suggestions?

Work isn’t really offering any distractions lately. Heather told me yesterday that she wants to get drinks this weekend. According to Lynda or Lydia or whatever I call her, Heather has been quiet lately and I just haven’t noticed. That’s not so unusual; Heather had her own life and own problems and drinks are a good way to vent but they’re not obligatory. We’re friends but I’m not her keeper – if she wants to talk, lord knows she will. But ever since she talked about going out, I’ve had this odd sense of dread. I think Heather’s going to quit. I don’t like this feeling. Do I-do I care about Heather?

I needed a distraction from home but more stress and worry is not what I had in mind.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Mid-Week Update for 01/11/17

So…I want to start by saying this was not how I expected my week to go but it has been coming for a very long time. When I sat down to start writing this update, I wasn’t quite sure how to process all the things that had happened. You’re going to have to bear with me, dear readers, 2017 is off to a very unusual start.

Jason was quiet for a few days after his fight with Andrew and I wasn’t about to push him but I needed answers. Luckily I still had Andrew tied up in the laundry room. He lost three fingernails before he finally started talking to me but he eventually opened up. I was amazed he hadn’t bled out before that. I’m amazed I didn’t kill him after that.

He has a nineteen-year old daughter that he wants Jason to meet. This means he had this daughter while he was still with my sister. According to Andrew, he just wants all of his children to be together. I…I slapped him. Ha. I slapped him and I walked away. You should be so proud of my self-control. Part of me isn’t surprised that this man is such a horrible human being; and yet, I still can’t believe…my poor sister. He’s put her through enough – so I thought.

Instead, I went upstairs, poured myself a bottle of vodka and watched old episodes of Law and Order SVU. Not the most calming show but I was shaking too much to go out kill and somehow, reminding myself that there are worse people in the world was oddly comforting.

About an hour after that, I went up to check on Jason and found him sitting on the floor, fiddling with his computer system. Over the years, I’ve learned that when he’s anxious or upset, he messes with his computer.

Some people drink, some people create work to distract themselves.

I asked to join him and he invited me in. He worked in silence for a bit and then he started to talk me through his task. I hope he didn’t expect me to retain any of it because I fill out the stereotype of parents who don’t understand technology but it was so…comforting to hear my son talk about something he’s passionate about. That passion tells me that he’s going to be okay. No matter what I or anyone else in this family puts him through he will be okay.

I used to worry that Jason would never like me. We had nothing in common and his reaction to losing his mother was to shut everyone out. This twelve year old boy clung to his sister so tightly and I couldn’t reach him. Besides, I was so focused on Sandra and all of that drama. The girl whose curiosities led her to the truth – and to grow up faster than expected – got my attention more than the boy who kept quietly to himself.

When he lost his sister, I gave him his space but then I realized that it was just the two of us. Without Sandra, he had no one else and, while I will always have James, I needed Jason; the one thing I didn’t wreck.

We hung out for a few hours and then I went to make dinner.

When I say “make” I mean, go out and buy fast food. I was in no mood to cook. I knew James would be home in an hour to keep Jason away from the basement so I left him alone while I grabbed food.

I was gone for less than twenty minutes but when I came back, Jason wasn’t in his room. I didn’t think, I just dropped the food and ran downstairs.

The laundry room door was wide open. And Jason was there. He had his laundry basket on the floor and a pair of scissors in his hand. We keep a sewing kit in the laundry room. He hadn’t seen me yet but I saw the blood on the scissors and on his hands.

Andrew was dead.

…

I’m back.

Now I want to be clear, I wanted Andrew dead. It solved all our problems and he absolutely deserved it.

But not Jason.

When I finally got his attention, he turned to me in shock, covered in his Andrew’s blood. I froze. And then he dropped the scissors and started to cry and I found my focus.

I didn’t speak, I just led him out of that room and into the upstairs bathroom. I washed his hands, turned on the shower and closed the door – I didn’t lock it; I was very careful about that. I called James and told him it was an emergency and then I started to clean up. I got most of the blood off of the walls and the floor before James got home and he finished the rest while I checked on Jason.

When he didn’t answer my knock, I opened without hesitation. He was sitting in the shower, curled up in a ball with all his clothes still on. I cleaned him up, got him into fresh clothes, and sent him to bed. I don’t think he slept but he didn’t need to see this.

We took Jason’s bloody clothes, the scissors, the chair, and Andrew’s body, packed it into the car and drove about 45 minutes to an industrial park with very loose security. Everything got crushed or incinerated.

Three hours later, it was all over.

That was my Friday.

James went to bed and I tried so hard to stay up in case Jason needed me but I dozed off and when I woke up, he had left for work. I didn’t expect him to go but I called his manager and they confirmed that he was working the front counter. He got home right after his shift, went up to his room, then I didn’t see him for the rest of the weekend. I expected this response. As much as I wanted to sit him down and ask just what the hell happened, I knew that Jason would shut down and get closed off.

What I didn’t prepare for was Monday night when I got home from work. He stopped me in the kitchen and yelled at me – really, honestly, yelled at me. He cussed me out for his mother, his sister, his father, for keeping secrets; he blamed me for everything. Then he walked out of the house and I sat on the couch to wait for him. James got home around 10 and made me dinner, because I’d forgotten, and then went to bed.

He’s been working such long hours lately, I don’t begrudge him for needing sleep. Sometimes, I’d like the company and support.

Jason got home just after midnight, he sat on the couch beside me, and we watched Die Hard because it was the only thing on.

Yesterday, he was in his room when I got home and I suspect the same thing will happen today. I am giving him space. I will not push him. He will come to me when he’s ready. I have to believe that. The alternative is that I lose my son and I will not have that.

I’m still trying to fully understand what happened.

I know what happened but it hasn’t really sunk in yet.

Andrew is dead.

Jason is lost.

I’m screwed.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Mid-Week Update for 01/04/2017

Happy New Year, dear readers. I hope you had a good holiday. I spent the last four days violently ill at home so I barely got to enjoy the new year or the time off my boss so generously gave me. I’m not even sure who I should be blaming but I killed a teenage babysitter as she passed by the house. The neighbours have two kids and we’ve known Cassandra for several years now.

Well, we knew Cassandra…

I blame the children. It’s probably Lydia; she emailed the office the other day to tell us she had a sick child at home but she’d still be coming in to work because she’s “dedicated to our work”.

Yes, I still check work emails while I’m on vacation. Yes, Lydia is an idiot. Let’s move on.

I was sick and couldn’t enjoy the new year which also meant that when Andrew came calling on Monday afternoon, I didn’t hear the doorbell and Jason answered it. I walked in to the kitchen to see Jason storming out the backdoor. I asked, in my own way, what happened ad Andrew told me that it was “family business”.

So I punched him.

With a knife.

Twice.

I snapped. I hadn’t slept in two days, and I was sick and feverish. I wasn’t in a good mental state.

Long story short, Andrew’s in the basement.

James has been mildly supportive. He’s partially concerned with my health, thinks it’s hysterical, but mostly is frustrated with Andrew for putting us in this situation. I’m inclined to agree with my husband. It’s Andrew’s fault that he’s tied up in our basement.

Since the incident, Jason has been quiet. He says he doesn’t want to tell me what Andrew said because he doesn’t want me to worry.

Which of course made me worry even more. Does that kid not know me at all?

I assume the only way to get the information is to ask Andrew in my own way. Don’t worry, he won’t die, yet.

I’m just glad my son is afraid of laundry or things would get very awkward.

I wonder if James and I should invest in some sort of victim storage room. Near the house but not in the house, for obvious reasons. The amount of bleach that I’ve used on that basement floor is going to damage the property value.

The trials of contemporary murder.

In any case, Jason is upset and I’m upset that Andrew hurt my son so someone is going pay.

I wonder how long it’ll take the Johnson’s to find a new babysitter?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/28/16

I hope everyone had a great holiday. I had a fantastic time. I endured a fifteen minute phone call with my mother, successful ignored my sister’s and my brother-in-law’s separate attempts to invade my family celebration, and managed to get the rest of the week off. I am free until the New Year and lord knows humanity needs a fresh start.

This has certainly been a crazy year.

Between Charlotte, and Heather; David Bowie, and Carrie Fisher; Donald Trump: I haven’t experienced such a roller coaster in quite a long time.

On the 23^rd (Friday), I was called into Ron’s office just as I was about to leave for the weekend. Now, Ron is a friendly enough person in the office. He’s not someone you want to go for drinks with after a long, hard week but the man’s an amicable boss with only a minor death wish (as all humans in my presence have). So when he called me in for a “quick chat” I wasn’t worried. Mostly curious. I was anxious to get home and have a festive but quiet evening with my family and the sooner that started, the happier I would be.

“You’ve been working hard, despite your injury.” He said. “Take the rest of the year off.”

Why didn’t he tell me this back in February?

So in lieu of a bonus, I get paid vacation. Paid vacation that I would have taken anyway. Why do I feel like the staff is missing something? I hate that we’re not being told the whole story.

In any case, I’m off until January 2^nd. I don’t know what I’ll do with all my free time. Other than the obvious: drink, kill, watch TV, rinse and repeat.

Which reminds me.

The versatility of lead pipe is astounding. Not just bludgeoning; you can ram it down your victim’s throat and force feed them arsenic; you can force them against the wall and crush their windpipe; endless opportunity for creativity. It’s been a very entertaining week.

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, I answered the door to find my sister tearing me a new one because Andrew called her parole officer looking for her. How he got anyone’s number I’ll never know. But now my sister is terrified and I want to comfort her but I didn’t let her in for Christmas. After she left, I had a lengthy discussion with her PO about the situation and she agreed to keep an eye on my sister over the holidays. I haven’t heard anything so I assume everyone is all right.

I did get a concerned call from my mother Christmas morning asking why my sister was crying over her breakfast. I assured her that everything was under control, she forgot to wish me a Merry Christmas, and then hung up. Overall, the nicest conversation I think I’ve ever had with my mother.

And then…

AND THEN!

Andrew showed up Sunday night with a baseball bat thinking it would gain him entry into my household. James respectfully showed him the door with his fist and we haven’t heard from him since. I can only assume the worst.

Funny how that happens.

The only stressful thing to come from Christmas is that I finally had to tell Jason about his father. He was quiet the rest of the night and then Monday afternoon, he came into the kitchen where I was washing dishes and he told me that he wanted to meet his dad. I won’t refuse his request but he knows that he’s coming home with me at the end of the day. I have no way of contacting Andrew but I’ve promised Jason that next time he shows up, I’ll let him inside.

For my son.

It’s always for my son.

Or for me.

I care a lot about my well-being as well.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/21/16

Fucking Andrew fucking FUCK

He followed me home.

He knows where Jason is. He has access. And it’s all my fucking fault.

When my sister was sent to prison and I got custody of the kids, I became responsible for essentially renewing the restraining order. I was so distracted when Sandra passed away that I…I didn’t. I completely forgot. And now the order has lapsed and Andrew is coming after my family.

Security at work has strict instructions not to let him in the building and poor Heather got harassed on the way home yesterday so I’ve given her the day off. I actually feel so bad for her. Between Andrew and Lydia, that woman has had no breaks. And on top of that, my boss decided we didn’t need a Christmas Bonus this year. I’m going to do something nice for Heather.

Oh my god, listen to me. I want to be nice to Heather?

I blame Andrew.

It’s very easy to blame Andrew when I don’t want him in my life.

I just hate him. I hate what he’s done to my family, I hate that he wants back in. I still haven’t told Jason. He deserves to know but I just can’t bring myself to tell him. I don’t want to ruin his holiday. I’m too tired to ruin his holiday.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. The pain in my side wakes me up in the middle of the night. I am so done with this injury. I just want to be better. Now I’m tired and sore all the time. Christmas sucks.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/14/16

Alright, dear readers, gather ‘round; I’m gonna tell you a story.

About twenty years ago, my sister and I were both roaming the streets, looking for our next victim. We were good at staying out of each other’s way and I can admit now that my sister was way better at her job than I was – at the time. She once did it across the street from the local police station without so much as an unreliable witness. She was good; great, even. You’ve heard me say that all before.

But everything changed when she met Andrew.

He was something so trivial – like a cashier at the supermarket – that I don’t even remember exactly what he did. He was slated to be my sister’s next victim but somehow, he charmed his way out of it and instead, they started dating. He never knew how close he came but after three months of seeing them together, I was about ready to kill him.

Andrew was a sadist if ever I saw one. And more than that, my sister knew it. She knew from day one that her boyfriend would sooner or later turn on her. But she was young and impressionable and he hadn’t done anything yet. He quit his job not long after meeting her and spent his time, using up her savings and taking control of her every move.

The day she brought him home for the first time, I was floored by how manipulative and cruel he was to my sister without her realizing it. I said this then and I’ll repeat it now: I hated Andrew from the very start.

When she became pregnant, I was terrified for my sister and her baby. Andrew wasn’t happy about being “tied down” four months into their relationship and he made that perfectly clear to anyone who could see my sister’s dislocated shoulder and bruised ribs.

The only reason he didn’t die the day I found out is because my sister begged me not to and I was stupid enough to believe her. I will never make that mistake again.

Just before Sandra was born, the two of them snuck away in the middle of the night and got married. I cried. I drove for three days just to find a fresh kill zone where no one would think to look for me. They still haven’t recovered every body from that park all those years ago.

I tried to take my sister and Sandra away from Andrew; we drove to a women’s shelter so far north, I couldn’t even pronounce the name of the town. But he found her and forced himself back into our lives. And all the while, my sister stopped doing her life’s work because it meant Andrew couldn’t keep tabs on her.

She was my sister and I saw her hurting; I know that what I’m saying sounds biased and exaggerated but she’s my baby sister and no matter how I think of her now, no one is allowed to hurt her. Andrew never knew what I did but he knew that I was protective and would perpetually get in his way. We always fought over my sister like she was a doll but I don’t regret fighting for her.

Through some miracle I have never been able to recreate, my sister came to her senses after Jason was born. She divorced Andrew and got a restraining order for her and the kids which she and I updated every 5 years. He wasn’t allowed in the same neighbourhood as them. He wasn’t allowed to attend the custody hearing when my sister was arrested. He wasn’t allowed to attend Sandra’s funeral. And no one batted an eyelash. I haven’t given him a second thought in 18 years. Best of all, she went back to doing what she loved. Maybe that time away from her craft is why she grew careless and got herself caught.

I tell you this because yesterday, the man came back to my office but this time I was there. He refused to leave the building until he spoke to me so I caved and went down to meet him.

Andrew is back.

I’m not listed on the initial restraining order so he can harass me all he wants. Now that I’m no longer Jason’s legal guardian, he wants my son’s contact information. When I refused, he threatened me with physical harm and without blinking, I threatened him right back.

I saw no fear in his eyes when I threatened to make him eat his intestines and lose each of his fingers and toes while he perpetually swallowed and vomited his own tongue for several days. I saw a challenge in his eyes. He’s not the same rabid dog I could kick when he misbehaved. He thinks he can get what he wants from me. He thinks I will fear him.

I’d love to see him try.

It’ll be a nice relaxing weekend. Making Andrew pay for his hubris.

I haven’t told Jason yet. The boy has never met his father and I don’t intend to change that. James is on my side completely, but he and I disagree about one thing. I don’t want to tell my sister. He seem to think she deserves a word of warning but I don’t think she needs any more stress in her life. She’s trying – I can tell – to keep on the righteous path. But I know from experience that changing a part of your essence is not easy. I know my sister’s bad habits are discouraging but I want to see her better. Andrew will not help her.

You agree with me, don’t you?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/07/16

I think my sister is going back to her old ways. I don’t know for sure and part of me doesn’t want to condemn her right away but the rest of isn’t remotely surprised when I have to pick her up from a freezing back alley downtown so she doesn’t have to call her parole officer. It’s the first time since she’s been released but that doesn’t mean it’s the first time it’s happened. I knew my sister very well at the height of her criminal career, I know the signs when she’s headed down this path again. But we’re both different people than we were ten years ago – this city is different.

Alright, that sounds incredibly clichéd but I’m not wrong. Ten years ago, we were in an economic boom, unemployment was at an all-time high and we didn’t know it yet but we had one of the most corrupt and morally bankrupt Mayors of all time. Now temperatures are up, pricing is up, and our Mayor is a joke but at least he’s an honest one. I don’t know if this city could handle two villains prowling the streets every night.

This is what I feared when my sister said she was rejoining society. Total chaos.

To be fair, it hasn’t happened yet; and I know, I know, I should give her the benefit of the doubt. But I’ve been down this road before. I won’t walk it again. If she skips curfew again and brings me into her lies, I won’t hesitate. She’s my sister and I love her but we’re all safer with her behind bars.

Naturally, out of frustration, I took a walk after I dropped my sister off and ended up in a darker part of town. Every neighbourhood can be a bad neighbourhood with the right spin but when the city doesn’t bother to replace the streetlights when they burn out, that’s when you know you’re in trouble. They’re easy targets. Everyone on that street is looking for a victim, not a fight. They don’t expect to one from a woman walking alone. So when I do end up in the darker parts of town, I always play the part; it’s routine by now. I carry my keys in my fist, ready to strike at whoever comes too close, I have a hand in my pocket over what looks like pepper spray but it’s just perfume. And then some twenty-something white kid who thinks he’s tougher than he is comes up behind me and I start walking a little faster. So does he. I turn a corner. So does he. I turn into an alley away from prying eyes. So does he. Just as he’s about to strike, I strike first. It’s over in an instant and the statistics for gang-related deaths goes up.

This time was a little different. I followed my routine to the letter but then I started thinking about my sister and I got distracted. Suddenly I was backed into a corner with my keys in my hand and I’d lost the advantage. So I swung. And he was bleeding so I thought I’d gotten the advantage back but then I saw the damage and I just started laughing. I’d stabbed him in the eye with a key. He was screaming but there wasn’t a lot of blood. Then he was lying on the ground motionless so I grabbed the key and ran away.

Except…

The key got stuck. So I pulled. And then the eyeball came with it. Then there was a lot of blood.

The news said he died of a heart attack but they aren’t sure why his eye is missing so they’re opening an investigation.

It’s sitting in a pickle jar in my sink. I don’t know what to do with it. When I brought it home, James just started laughing and he still has no idea what to do with it. I just…there’s an eyeball in my bathroom and I have no idea what to do with it.

Should I flush it down the toilet? Sell it? Keep it as a trophy?

Any ideas, dear readers?

That’s not even the most dramatic thing that happened to me this week.

I think a figure from my past is coming back to haunt me. Someone came to my office last week, asking for me and refused to leave until my boss came down and escorted him from the building. I was still in the hospital so I got a call from Heather. She sounded frazzled and it takes a lot to frazzle that girl. There are two men who I think could do that to her and her ex-husband is still out of town arranging a new life. If that means what I think it means, I have every right to be very worried.

Pray for me.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe