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Sitting here in a booth.   In a diner.   On the red formica table is my Iphone, the laptop, a box and an envelope.  

The Iphone shows a saved text message.  

The laptop has an email open.  

The box has a silver crucifix in it that still smells of blood.  

And the envelope arrived sometime last night.   Pushed under the door of the shoddy hotel room I’ve been camping out in since the little brush with undeath death I had recently.

In it is a nail.   The metal has been bent, as if it was pulled out roughly with the back of a hammer, and a little string and card have been attached.   On the card is neatly printed:

 

Nothing is free.   Something is missing.

 

April Fool’s Day.   Mother’s Day.   Anniversary.  

Independence Day.

 

She was sociopathic even before she joined the fold and long before they invented the word, and it only took a few centuries to organize that into psychopathic.   And then she found me.

And the question is now – how long have I got to work out what the fuck she’s playing at this time…?

 

Don’t bother, by the way, Brix.   I’ll be on the move again by the time you read this.  

 

But give my – love – to Amelia.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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3 Comments

  1. Amelia is helping Brix… You should never have let her go that last time..

    • Amelia is helping Brix…but for how long?

  2. Amelia doesn’t need Brix. So why use him? What is in it for her? What can Brix do that she can’t?


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