Tying up loose ends.

Elliott again.

So, we're spending some time in Canada. No big deal. We really don't have anything better to do with our time- other than, you know, living which we kind of have to do anyway, as being six feet under or in little pieces tends to impede ones driving ability and yeah I'm a little tipsy, drinkign age is 19 here what of it - we really don't have anything better to do with our time and hey, I've got shit to do, Canada it is.

Stayed in my hometown for a couple days. I forgot how much of an utter shithole my family's old apartment was and why I moved out as soon as possible. Place didn't even belong to her anymore. Some old hag with some stupid fucking well-groomed rat she was trying to pass off as a dog - you know the type. The ones with the tiny legs and the massive heads and they shake and shake and yip and shake like windup toys and fuck I'm getting sidetracked again, aren't I - anyway, the place didn't belong to my folks. Surprise surprise. After my bank account had been wiped off the face of the earth and all of my information on every social networking site ever (include myspace, fuck I haven't even thought of the word myspace since 2005) disappeared and all of my friends have stopped answering my calls and the ones who do answer say I'm dead or have no idea who I am, I've kind of stopped being surprise.

Still being bitter, though.

Got one good thing out of it, though. Or as good as it can get when apparently you don't exist - which is a fairly common phenomenon among runners, apparently? Fucked if I know. I'm just a college kid.

Managed to get enough information out of one of my former bandmates to figure out I was buried in some hole-in-the-wall cemetery on the outskirts of the cathedral area. Kinda fuckin' funny if you ask me, seeing as I'm pretty alive and typing and not in some little shit graveyard.

We went. Of course we went. Because I'm a fucking idiot who can't let go of his old life. Because I want closure.

Well I got it, alright. In the form of a one-meter tall slab of stone.

ELLIOTT WIMBLEDON BROODMOOR
1991-2011
Every man's life is a plan of God.

There were sunflowers on the grave.

Sunflowers, half-buried in the fucking snow. Most of them were dead or rotted but there was one, one little head hidden deep inside the others, that was a bright and as cheerful as the day it had been picked. A little ray of sunshine in a dark and dead and rotting world.

And I know who put them there, too.

...

I miss him.

Fuck I miss him.

How goddamn twisted is that? Kid killed for someone's sake. Then again, so did I - so did a lot of us. Something we said we'd never talk about but fuck, what does it matter now? What's done is done. Can't change what's happened.

Anyway.

We're meeting with Rich in a couple nights. Heading to the university and area to tie up the last of the loose ends - not going to be able to stop thinking about it until I do. Closure's a bitch to get sometimes.

Saw that red-haired bastard before we left the House. Writer. That one. Maybe Elaine will write about what happened there, god knows I'm too fucking depressed and too drunk to think about it right now. Words were exchanged, Writer threatened Em, we knew we couldn't stay. We were out less than half an hour later.

Don't die and shit. Updates to come.

Apologies and Eulogies

Well, it's Elaine again. I'm still alive, I'm doing just fine, and back more or less to normal.

I really just want to start all of this off by apologizing for a certain stupid thing I did. It was selfish of me to try to remove myself from all of this without thinking about those of you I'd be leaving behind. Most of you I've talked to one way or another to apologize to more directly, but I feel like I should say something here. According to Blogger, a lot of people read this fucking blog. Probably at least some of you are looking for guidance, just like I was, back when I started. I don't want my story to end with such a cop-out.
All of you reading this deserve more from me, and honestly, I don't really feel like giving up yet. There's a lot of fighting left for me to do before I get my rest, and I intend to make slendershit crazy trying to take me out.

It was just grief. Grief for everyone we've lost recently. Starting with the fall of Hope, I lost eight of the people nearest and dearest to me over the course of a week. As I've said in the past, I'm nothing fancy with words or feelings, but I feel like I ought to say something for everyone that's gone.

The Johnsons. Their blood is directly on my hands. The family came to Hope because it was the only chance they had left. When they arrived they'd lost everything but each other, and were managing to hold strong and raise their daughter well.
But they had too much faith in me. They said the safest place in the world for them was at my side, in Hope, even without special protection. Jennifer, Levi, and poor little Adam. They were a loving, close knit family, and they deserved better than what they got.  Elliott and I are taking care of their daughter. Emily is only six, but she's amazing. I hope we can raise her right and keep her safe.

Michael. Or perhaps I should call him Nemo? He were more himself before he took his name back. He was a dear friend to me, even when he was going mad. Down underneath the protective layer of douchebaggery was the kind and thoughtful man I came to know when he first came to Hope. I miss him a lot, and I will always regret that I couldn't help him when he came to me in the end.

Konaa. He was a hell of a brave, crazy kid. No, man. I called him a kid, but his actions proved himself to be one hell of a good man. He was another of the best of us. Noble, tenacious, kind. He never gave a crap about himself, he was always fighting for us. He never killed, never even harmed anyone unless he absolutely had to. He was a good friend and a good man. He will be missed by all. He died as he lived-standing for what he believed in.

Lucas. He was by far one of the best, kindest men I've ever had the good fortune to know. He helped me through a lot of shit right until the end. He was also the first other Stalked I really got in touch with when shit hit the fan, which made him... one of my oldest friends. The world has lost something, losing him.

Joel. He and I were close as well. Lucas and Joel were, for a while, a bright shiny example of true love in the face of adversity. Then he was taken by his Wolf. But he refused to give up. He fought his way back out for the man he loved. He shouldn't be remembered by his final actions, but as a man who did anything and everything to protect the man he loved.

Josh. He was a hell of a kid. Would've really been somebody if he'd gotten a chance to grow up and actually do things, instead of run from a faceless fuck in a suit.  I didn't get to know him quite as well as the others, but I knew him well enough to miss him now.

I'll try to get something up in the next few days talking about what's been going on with me.

The House

So, we've arrived here at the House, as of a few hours ago. It's... interesting. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. It's... fucking huge, for one thing. And it feels very... I dunno, empty. Maybe it's because the wing they've got me in is almost completely empty, but it just feels too quiet for a house with seven people living in it.

In any event, we arrived... late this morning, after getting horribly lost. I wish I remembered more of the approach but I fell asleep in the car. I woke up inside, in a bed. Took me a minute to figure out what had happened, but Spence was waiting for me outside.

He showed me around, got me some food, told me a bit more about the House. It all felt so... I dunno, peaceful. Nice to have something so domestic and comfortable in the middle of this. It's... I dunno, it's looking like I may honestly have some time to sit back and digest and plan my next move.

Also. Spencer gave me a key. He says he doesn't know what it opens, and I certainly don't, but he's given me free reign to find out. Which is in fact why I am cutting this post short. I've got exploring to do. And hopefully meeting at least some of the rest of the couriers in the process. It feels strange being in their House without having ever met them.

Keep Moving

That's the plan, anyway. We left NYC yesterday,after saying a fond farewell to Rachael. It was nice, staying with her, rather peaceful, but the longer we stayed there the more danger we were all in, from her and from all the things chasing me.

So we're off, to visit another friend. Again, not telling you lot where I'm headed, I don't want an unpleasant surprise when I get there, and the person I'm visiting would definitely not thank me for bringing down a storm of proxies on their home. Suffice it to say that I am going to see a friend who's got more information that could be useful.

I'm starting my work back again. I'd been slacking, hadn't really done any research and I've only read one or two new blogs in the past several weeks. Fuck that shit. I've been wallowing too damn long. It's time to start fighting properly again, instead of just getting by.

I have a goal, one that is hard but definitely possible, and I'm doing everything in my fucking power to make sure I achieve it.

In the meantime, I have something Spencer gave Cam that I have the permission to post and discuss. Expect to see that within the next couple days, as soon as we stay someplace with a scanner. I have a couple of other topics that I'm planning research posts on within the next week or so as well.

I'm not going to roll over and fucking die because of all of this. Cam made it pretty clear he wanted me to live.

Back in Town

I'm in NYC, and it's beautiful and huge and bustling, just like I remember. The drive from Texas was hell, but I got here a day early and ended up able to spend yesterday with Spence, taking in the city almost like just another tourist. There was some craziness the previous night, and he came by to check on me, then ended up sticking for a while. He's a good friend. The two of us spent the day talking and remembering.  It was... it was nice. I needed that. It felt like I was finally getting a chance to say goodbye.

This was Cam's home, every time I've been here was with him. There's too much of him everywhere, he loved this city, loved showing it off to me in the hopes of making me smile for real. He's always been very good at that-I guess that's what happens when you've known someone for twenty years. Sure, he wasn't actually able to be physically with me for a lot of it, but he never let me fall out of touch, never let me ditch him. I think most of you thought that I met him when we started rooming together, we tended to encourage that belief, but that was not quite the truth. I never... I never bothered setting the record straight because I didn't think it mattered, but we were kids together, before he moved here. After shit hit the fan with me, he consistently wrecked his own life to be there when I needed him. No matter where I was or what trouble I'd gotten into, he was always there wanting to help. He deserves for you to know that.

The only reason I came here, to this city with all it's pain and memories and beauty, was two people I needed to see. The first, Shrodinger, I picked up rather early this morning. She really is that sweet, even desperate, looking like death, and missing a hand. She put up the request for a rescue a week ago and I got in touch, because like HELL was I leaving her to deal with this Cheshire bastard alone anymore. Didn't want to linger long there, so I just picked her and her stuff up and got the fuck out of there before something could show up and try to stop us.

We then proceeded to Rachael's house. Normally I would not go into the home of a proxy when seeking someplace vaguely resembling safe to rest and plan my next move, but she's a bit of a special case these days, and as much as I feel like a bitch saying so, physically she's not exactly a threat, so if it comes to that, I'm not too worried. She says she's pretty good at dealing with the 'itch' as she calls it and can give us warning if we need to get out, so I'm hoping that I'm just worrying too much.

I don't know what exactly I expected, really, but it wasn't her, in this cheerful, if a little dark and dusty, home. She looks to be in her thirties and absolutely beautiful, though everything about her is sad enough to break your heart. She swooped in and started mothering Shrodinger from the moment we arrived, and I've admittedly done a lot of awkward hovering and trying to help. She is so infinitely kind to us both, it kind of throws any expectations out the window. It's nice, really. I'm hoping our stop here will help Kat a little, and maybe I'll get lucky and it'll help me as well.

On the Road Again

So I'm traveling again, this time with a specific location and purpose in mind, though I won't put it up here for the proxy douches to see and interfere with. It's kind of a long trip, but I don't mind the drive. I've got plenty of good music to blast and time to enjoy the view of so many places I have never been.

Stopped at a rest stop to type this out because... well, I'm alone again. When I left the hotel this morning I also left Nick. I'm really just not built for this dating stuff, apparently. It throws me off, makes me weak and stupid and distracted. Nick, I'm sorry, but I don't want to get myself or one of you killed because I was too distracted to do what I need to do. 

I've got a lot to do while I'm on the run. Some of you are already expecting me, and there are a lot of things I need to read up on. It's more important than ever to keep up on my research now, I'm just getting a little more hands on about how I do it.

And on that note, I need to get going again. I've got a long way to go.

Nick, I'm sorry.

Back to Work

I'm sorry about last night's post. Yesterday was bad.

When I escaped Star's diabolical plans, instead of heading straight out of town like I said I would, I went back to the apartment. I needed my notes, my money, some clothes, and the things Cam left for me. A pile of letters and a notebook.

The idiot made one of THOSE notebooks. And I never knew. Hidden in the blank pages is a pretty accurate picture of... of how he died. He definitely drew it. I... I don't know when he did, but he knew. He fucking knew. What the fuck is this? Apparently he was never as Slendyfree as he said he was. I just don't understand why he lied.

While waiting for Nick at the apartment, I started talking to Shaun, and he...I dunno, he went fucking nuts and started freaking out about how I wasn't safe. I didn't know what else to do, so I ran. Six blocks faster than I've bugged out in a long time. Found myself at the cemetery. Got to see Cam one last time before I left town...

That was where Nick met me. I was an absolute mess, I'll admit it. I was lucky that it was deserted that morning. Not many people want to visit a graveyard on a bright, hot morning. The rest of the day was spent alternately doing things like setting up a meeting with August and Spencer and selling the car and randomly breaking down on poor Nick. I'm not proud of it, but I had my one day. I let myself grieve for one day. I gave an entire day to the fear and misery and desperation.

No more. I've got work to do if I want to help those of you who need my help. I don't have time for tears and crying.

August, Spencer, I'm sorry you had to see me like that yesterday. Dinner went badly, and a lot of that is my fault. Thank you for all of your help.