I’ve been keeping the journal. I wrote my first entry. It happened when I was washing the dishes. I’m not sure they actually came clean. The water that came out of the tap was thick and red. Normally, I do prefer the dishes to be spotless. I can’t tell but I think they’ve been stained. It’s not really a big deal as I’m not bothered by this nor by the current state of my red-ringed kitchen sink.
Surprisingly my second group session with Dr. Grant went unexpectedly well. Everyone was alert. I was buzzing with energy. Everyone was. I didn’t faint this time. Nobody did. Only a few days into the trial and I feel like I’m making a lot of really solid progress.
Today he shows you some images. Lots of fun, bloody pictures and videos.
So there I was, in an elevator with these two women. The three of us covered head to toe in shame, viewed naked without our consent. I couldn’t wait to get out of this elevator. Neither could they. I was itching with my entire being for the doors to open.
At night I sleep darkly and as I drift away the wisps of his boney dreamfingers reach out. Poke their ways inside to the back of my eyes.
That’s where the man is. The Nightmare Man. His name is Spindly Ticks.
I enjoy watching the neighbors.
I watch them outside, through the window.
I think the slimmer is very attractive. They have lived here for a year and I’ve watched them both in that time. The slimmer one has red hair and a strong jawline. Sometimes his hair is more red than now—sometimes it has lighter hues of blonde. Sometimes he keeps it short. Sometimes he keeps it long.
Scott F. Savino 