Be Wary of Wishes – Part Four
This time Nolan came over and he asked me if I was open to smoking a joint. And while it had been awhile since I last smoked, I decided to go with the flow and accept his offer. I loved watching him roll joints. Something about the ease in which he rolled each joint kept me intrigued about each movement. He started by using scissors to break apart the weed, then he added a bit of tobacco and used one of my playing cards to scoop it all up. Oh and I am forgetting about the filter he created using a piece from his cigarette package. I suppose it’s his way of saving money and I somehow found it cute. But I digress and should get back to why I am even writing in this journal. After all I am starting to get lost in him and somehow I am starting to feel that whatever he tells me is something that I can keep hidden, even if I know I shouldn’t. I must be crazy to even think like this but I feel like I need to protect him. And last night he finally started to feel more comfortable about talking about the murders. However, Nolan spoke of them the same as anyone who had been watching the news and following the stories would have discussed the murders. The first incident he told me about was the homeless guy who purchased a lottery scratch-off ticket and actually won. However, when he went to the store to ask about how to collect the money he won he ended up getting into a dispute with one of the cashiers, which resulted in him strangling the woman. That very evening, a homeless person, this time a woman, had stabbed a young teen girl on the subway after the girl claimed to not have any money to give her. And an hour later, a homeless man went grocery shopping and when it came time for him to pay he didn’t have enough to purchase his groceries and snapped at the employee at the register. The homeless guy stabbed the cashier and left him in critical condition. Several minutes after that murder, another member of the homeless community attempted to cut off the head of a bus driver after being refused to ride for free. And as people tried to exit the bus, additional injuries occurred, and two people were severely stabbed which resulted in their deaths. The news reports had led people to believe that the murders were organized. After the murders on the bus the FBI got involved. All of a sudden people started to fear the homeless. It was hard to believe that these were isolated incidents. The murders resulted in more police presence throughout the city and suddenly there were no homeless women or men riding the subway with their stories of how they had lost their jobs and had been down on their luck due to the recession. There were no more entertaining acts by the more creative homeless to see while riding the subway. It was as if all of the homeless had been forced to the confines of the already crowded homeless shelters. And yet everyone was on guard. But again, Nolan wasn’t telling me anything that I hadn’t already heard from the news or had seen myself from taking public transportation. But after smoking two joints we were both fried and eventually fell asleep. When I awoke Nolan was gone and I still have no idea how he’s connected to the murders. But I am starting to get a bit freaked out by how into these murders he is. Why is he telling me about this?
Nolan was supposed to come over to my place last night and when he didn’t show up I decided to go looking for him. I had knocked for a minute or two but all I could hear was his music blasting. And while I wouldn’t usually do this, after realizing that his door was unlocked, I slowly entered while calling out for him. When no one answered, with hesitation I continued to make my way through his apartment. For a single guy I can see that he has pretty good taste. However, I could also see that like his appearance lately, his apartment was starting to reflect his mood. There were beer cans on the kitchen table and on the kitchen counters. Empty take out cartons were scattered through the kitchen and living room. And still I continued until I came into his bedroom. I noticed that there was a sheer cover he had placed on his lamp, which slightly dimmed his bedroom. Yet the room was lit up enough to see that he had been reading books about the supernatural. I started to go through a few and could see tabs on chapters that spoke of curses and sacrificial ceremonies. He had also been keeping up with the news coverage of the recent murders committed by the homeless and had newspaper clippings on his nightstand. I noticed that the faces of the accused had been circled with red ink. For a moment I thought I recognized one or two of them, but I couldn’t remember where I had seen them. And before I could really think about it, I heard some movement in the living room and was startled by the sudden movements. I knew that what I had done was wrong but I had hoped that he would understand that I was concerned about him. For a moment I considered hiding in his closet and waiting for him to pass out or step out again. But all I could do was stand behind the door thinking of what I might say for entering his apartment without his permission. And just as I was about to get the courage to exit his bedroom I overheard him talking to someone. And since I couldn’t hear anyone else at first I thought he was talking to himself. But when I looked out from the crease of the door I could see that he was on the phone. He made his way to his stereo system and turned his music down. Yet all I could make out was that he was yelling at the person on the other end of the phone, screaming out “that bitch is really to blame for this.” He kept repeating that someone was to blame, but he never said anyone’s name. Nolan continued to scream out that he was tired of keeping the secret and that he needed to tell the authorities. The rest of the conversation was in a lower tone and farther away from the bedroom door. When Nolan hung up the phone he made his way to the bedroom. And when he entered his room I…
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