45

I'm not writing this for myself.
Maybe I am. I don't even know anymore But I know this: I'm writing this out of some sense of obligation. To what’ Fuck if I know. Some sense of necessity in the back of my head. Like if I don't write it all ot me shit ive gone through is for nothing
As time is something of a factor. I'm cutting me intros and explaining exactly what that shit ive gone through is.
It was about a month ago now that Rita came back from whatever African country she went to She was helping out in some ullage. I donl know what the fuck she was doing, I think she built some houses. She's a philanthropist. I used to give her shit tease her, make it seem like what she did didn't matter. She knew l was kidding, but me more l think about it me more l wish l hadn't wasted all those conversations with that sort of bullshit There's no time for going about my regrets now. This is about events, rve gotta not digress.
Shit.
Rita came back and told me she took some realty great nature photos while in Africa and she wanted to show me I really loved Rita. We used to have a thing. It was worth it because I had a great time doing it but afterwards we
couldnt be as good of friends because all I could think of was fucking her
Shit.

She showed me all me nature photos and they got me all freaked out I've been off any shit for a long time, haven't smoked in a year, longer since I've dropped anything, no drinking, nothing, but those photos just freaked me me fuck out.
l asked if l could keep one It was trees She fucked up taking it she didn't even mean to show me it but that one freaked me out me most A picture of trees, taken by accident bottom left comer pink and fuzzy where her thumb was over me lens.
l took it home and put it on my nightstand and kept looking at it every night before sleeping, every morning before getting out of bed. every time I went to my bedroom. I had to look at it What was wrong with it’

It was about two weeks ago that Rita got hit by a car. She didn't die. of course, men I'd probably have a different yarn to spin here In tad. in a really, awful, grim way. I wish she might have died, just because if she died this story would end here. I love Rita, really, and not just in that I really want to fuck her but I really love her. she's a great person, a great friend She was in the hospital and I went to visit her.
"You okay, Rita?"
"Yea, no, I'm fine How're you? You look like shit." I wasn't sure what she meant I sort of took all me mirrors in my house down because of me photo
"You're not fine, you got hit by a car" I looked at her legs, both in casts l realty didn't want the subject to be brought up. I didn't know enough about it and I didn't want to explain the photo.
"I'm fine. I only hurt my shins, they'll heal up soon enough, now why are you so pale"
"I'm pale. Rita, think nothing of it You need anything?"
"Have you been smoking?"
"No. Do you need anything?"
"Have you been sleeping?"
"No, Rita, don't worry about it, I'm fine, do you need anything?"
"No, Go get some rest, you look like hell"
"Have you what did you do with those photos?" I blurted out I didn't know why l said it, l didn't want me topic brought up at all.
"What?"
"The nature photos from Africa"
"I don't know, the/re probably in my desk at home, why?"
"I'm... I was just wondering if I could borrow them."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I just liked mem."
"Well, I'm not leaving here today, maybe tomorrow, can you wait until then?" she smirked, and I wanted so much to ask for her keys to just pick mem up
"That's fine."

I stayed up all night staring out my window into my yard Out me front of my house irs all houses, but out me back mere are trees separating me from some other houses a ways off I just stared at me trees. Every time they moved a chill went through me. Every time my house creaked or settled l was shocked. I needed those startling moments of nothingness, I couldnt sleep. Something compelled me not to.
Things got worse me next night when she lent me the photos. I made up some bullshit about art projects or collages or drawings. I dont even remember what I just needed me photos.
I spread mem out There were twenty one of mem total, and she said she threw out two which were too blurry (part of me was enraged at this fact, and I cant tell you why even now). They were all just stupid Animals, a photo of her smiling with an elephant behind her, none of those got to me. I pulled out five that put me off 3nd men another three that werent as disturbing.
I just looked at them. for anything.
The doorbell rang.
It was two in me morning and my fucking doorbell rang l nearly had a fucking heart attack.
Slowly. I got up. grabbed a poker l kept - I didnl have a fireplace, it was just something I kept as a weapon in my old apartment as a standby, just for protection. I don't know why. and I brought it when I moved here - by me door and looked out.
There was a man. He was weanng a suit, gray, black be. gray slacks, black shoes, a sort of bland, old man s face, gray fedora He had a slight smile on his face. "Anybody home?" he smiled, looking nght at me through me peephole.
Bullshit, he couldn't see me.
"I hate to wake you," he said, calmly, - "but I've got a feeling you weren't really sleeping much anyways."
That tore it. I swung the door open.

"What do you want?" I stared at him, confused. He smiled.
"You left your wallet at me hospital I was leaving after seeing my wife and felt like being a good guy. Took a little traveling, little investigation. but it's better man having to wait and go to me hospital and having some nurse steal a twenty and say it was found that way. I know Rita, just to explain. She musn't have liked my late night pestering all too much, but I had to give her a nng I didnl want to keep me wallet at my place over night. Felt like stealing. Got your phone number from her, but I was up, and from me way you looked me other day I thought you'd be up-"
"When did you see me?"
"Well, just me other day you came in to see Rita. My wife was in me same room. I was with her rve been with her in me hospital every day for about a month and a half now, been speaking with me other people that come in and out. Realty hit it off with your mend Hell of a woman," he smiled at that bit.
Bullshit, it had to be I didn't remember anybody else in that room, and I sure as shit didn't believe that Rita was in me same room as some old lady. She was in ER, wasn't she? You don't stay mere for a month This had to be a lie.
"Thanks," I took me wallet he'd been holding for awhile now
"Now, about those photos," he let out a big, interested smile, like a kid getting ready to play a game. My heart froze.
"What do you mean?" I stared at him, eyes wide.
"Well, you were talking about those nature photos, and while I love photos from far away as much as me next guy. I think you're looking for something else."
"What do-"
"Something bigger."
"I think you should get back to your wife." I whispered, terrified

"Whars the matter? Chicken?" he smirked, saying it in some old man way that realty was pretty endeanng I loosened up.
"I'm sorry, you just... that got me pretty off guard. Caught. Caught me pretty oft guard."
"No. I understand. If it's what I think its. irs pretty scary stuff," he nodded I got that chill again.
"You... You know what..."
"Not quite, I just know me feeling."
I woke up.
I was on me floor
I looked around me. It was that abrupt, l was talking to him and them woke up. I felt my back pocket .My wallet was in it.
I looked at the door, l didn't have a peephole. There were windows. This was my house, not my old apartment. l didn't have that fucking poker. I don't even remember if l had that at the apartment.
Maybe I dreamt all that in hopes of having somebody with me during this. Maybe i wanted somebody that understood.
l got up. I looked at my photos.
I picked up me main one, that one that had been on my nightstand this whole time.
I shit you not there he was. That old man, standing in me background by me trees, just waving to me camera as if the photo is just supposed to be of him.
My heart raced, my eyes widened. There was a deathly silence in me house. I didn't want to move. Something seemed to be all around me and if I moved I would die. I knew it.
After what felt like hours - hell, it could have been a day, time was losing its meaning to me - I looked at the other photos

Sure as hell, mere he was. Off in me background in every one, waving to the camera.
I swear he wasn't there before. It's impossible that I just missed that, he’s right fucking there He's not blending into anything he's clearty just there.
My phone rang, and that penetration of the silence, it startled me so much I fell down and shouted "fuck" in fear. l stared at me ringing phone, petrified, and waited for it to go to machine, but after the second ring, whoever it was hung
up.
I looked at me photos again. I had to call Rita about this.
Suddenly, I got a chill. That same chill.
I took out my wallet.
There, inside, bent up, was a photo. Blurry, one could make out an arm and a hand, maybe some trees, and maybe a leg.
But that's not important.
On the back, there was a message:
"Chicken?"
No. No. Not possible, fuck. No, this wasn't fucking happening.
I grabbed my cell phone and called Rita. She didn't pick up.
I noticed I had a text message I hadn't read.
I stared down at the phone for a moment. Something was afoot.

Sender: 5657
Message: I've got your number.
I gasped, I grabbed my mourn I actually started to cry.
I called Rita again.
And again.
And again.
I didn't sleep for me rest of me week I put away me photos. I shut all me curtains. I put on the TV and put on comedy shows, put on every light in me house, invited over as many people as I could though most declined and anyone that came wouldn't come back after seeing what state I was in.
After five days of this, at around noon, the energy went out.
l was about to go the basement when I got a text.
Sender: 4384
Message: Let in some light
l ran outside. I just ran it was nice enough out l just needed to get away from that house.
Rita lived about a mile or two away. I walked to her house
Nobody was home when I got there
Shit

Two days ago she called me, said she saw me outside her house looking in and crying. Asked if I was alright. Where was I I had to go back home at some point. I was thinking about sleeping in a park that night, but that was just more terrifying.
I went back home and opened all me curtains and lay on me floor hiding.
I told her to come over.
She didn't

Something is tapping on my window as I type this. It has been since around ten minutes before I started writing. I looked out for a moment and it was a hand. Pale, wrinkled, and tapping on my window every few seconds.
l can feel its taunt.
"Chicken?"
"Chicken?"
I haven't slept. l keep looking at me photos looking for him but he's not there, the messages are gone, the photo with his message on the back is gone, I've tried. I don't know what I want anymore, all I know is that hand is gonna keep tapping, that sense is never leaving me. I donl know what it is, and maybe he could have helped me find out, but I'm a chicken. I am. I give up.
This isn't for me.
This is a suicide note. This is my good bye. This is me giving up.

But if I were dead, If I went through with it then I wouldn't be posting this, would I?
If I were dead, this would just be a word document on my laptop next to my dead body.
If I were dead.
If l really killed myself, that'd make me chicken.

Take a minute. A long minute. Good Look at yourself for a second, reading this. At yourself wondering what this is going to end like. That would be my first thought. Picture the scene of a dead body at the laptop, story finished, somebody else finishing up the last bit. You’re probably wondenng how this story really ends. Next, you ought to look at the first word of every sentence in this paragraph.
Unless you're too chicken.