Archive for Missing Person

Concern

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 17, 2011 by aaronsummac

This.

This was in my inbox today. I don’t understand it, not completely, but I think I understand some of it.

I have a few personal days off from work, and I’m thinking of taking them. But I don’t want to leave and be wrong.

Can you understand if I think this is a trap? I think baits been laid and I’m being coaxed from cover. But by the same token, I have to be able to get him back. Have to. And wherever she is, she needs to be let out. No one deserves to be stuck there.

Not even her.

Promise Me

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 12, 2011 by aaronsummac

I’ve been away for a while, trying to keep myself from feeling overwhelmed. Trying to distance myself from this garbage (even as the shadows in the corners of my vision seems to swell and shudder in the way they always do when things start getting closer).

Except I’m getting emails. It’s easy to ignore the little things creeping around the edges of my vision – insomnia, boredom, tricks of the light: all viable excuses. I can pretend they’re not happening.

But everyday I have three or four emails in my inbox from someone calling themselves ‘Kaughtneedless’. Not a single one makes much sense, and I would assume it was the Bitch except its even more incoherent than her usual prattle. I took a screen-cap of the most recent one:

They’re all pretty much like that.

I haven’t heard anymore from Blake or the Bitch, and it’s beginning to unnerve me. But I’m not going to leave. I can’t.

He Was Here

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on February 1, 2011 by aaronsummac

After Blake’s call, I left the front door unlocked. It was hard to convince myself that I should, but I didn’t expect to sleep. And I suppose I expected that, if I did fall asleep, I would wake with him at my side. Instead, i woke to this… note on the seat of the couch beside me.

I don’t understand why he didn’t stay. I don’t understand. But I do know that some of his clothing has been taken from the dresser, and his cologne and phone are gone from the bed-side table. He’s taking a trip. He promises to come home, and if I just keep things together on this end so he has a home to return to, all will be well. All will be well.

But I cannot leave here. I can’t go now, knowing that he might come soon, that he plans to come back eventually. I have to keep myself calm. I cannot stay locked in this apartment, mooning over thoughts of where he is and with whom. I have to return to work, pretend this is normal, pretend everything is alright.

And then he’ll come home.