Saturday, February 12, 2011

Attempted Escape

No idea if this is going to get through. Not that it really matters if it does, but I feel oddly compelled to make sure that everyone out there knows about every aspect of my life.

A brief lesson on the structure of my apartment complex. My address is on the third floor, in a hallway which contains three other residences. From the ground level, you can’t see inside the hallway, but you can see anyone who comes in or out of the hallway. It’s for this reason that I’ve been staying inside my apartment for the entire week. The police have been keeping at least two patrol cars around the complex; officially because of the murder which occurred, but they’re always positioned so they can keep an eye on my hallway and my balcony. Making sure I don’t try to make a break for it.

Last night, that’s exactly what I did.
Around 2 in the morning, I left my room, and went to the door of one of the hallway’s other occupants. So long as I remained in the passage, the police wouldn’t see me. I picked the lock on the door, and quietly went inside. Fortunately for me, the occupant was still asleep. I went over to that room’s balcony (a balcony which, unlike mine, did not have police staring at it constantly).

Then came the hard part. Out on the balcony, if I pulled myself over the railing, and slowly lowered myself, I could land on the balcony the next floor down; from there, I could lower myself to the ground. That had been the plan, but the below freezing temperatures we’ve been having lately complicated things. Not falling multiple stories becomes more difficult when the things you’re climbing down have ice on them. It took fifteen minutes of painfully slow working before my feet touched the ground, and by then, my hands were almost numb from the cold. No time to complain; had things to do. Like many college towns, bikes are a common form of transportation, and so I was able to commandeer one from the bike racks using my lock picks. With it, I rode off to my target.

You see, while Slender Man may not have many easily exploitable weaknesses, Javert does. And as long as he’s in my apartment’s parking lot trying to watch me, he isn’t at his home protecting this weakness.

I would have thought that such an important police officer would have greater security measures around his house, but perhaps being employed by Slendy has made him complacent. There was only one man guarding the building, a half asleep police officer by the front door. After application of my knife, he won’t be waking up again. Armed with his pistol, I picked the locks of the front door, and entered the home.

Both Javert’s wife and son were quick to comply with me when I woke them pointing a gun in their faces. They were herded into the kitchen, where I bound their hands and legs (I know that tying them to the railroad tracks would have been more traditional, but that would have been such a long walk, and I was feeling lazy). After that, all I needed do was use the radio from the corpse outside to contact Javert and tell him what I’ve done.

Less than ten minutes later, his patrol car came screeching into the front lawn, and the man came forth, rage pouring off of him. He barely even paused to throw open the door and storm inside. Very convenient for me, as I had been waiting next to the door, and quickly put my pistol to the back of his head.

Now, here’s how things should have gone: I pulled the trigger, causing Javert’s brains to splatter all over the floor. Complete success for Arkady.

Here’s how things went instead: I pointed the gun at the back of his head, but instead of being killed like I wanted him to be, he spun around and grabbed my arm so the shot went wild and I dropped the gun. He reached for his pistol, but I was able to kick it out of his hand before he could shoot it.

Soon everything’s devolved into a brawl, with our guns lying somewhere on the ground. I’ll be honest, I took most of the beating. Even if I have tried to train, he’s still stronger and faster than I am. God knows how long it went on; by the time I threw him off, we were both bruised and bleeding badly. In the brief lull we had, we dove for the guns on the ground. When he picked up his, he aimed it at me; I aimed mine at his son.

Locked in a standoff. A stupid move on my part, but I hadn’t been planning for him to survive the seconds after he entered the house. For the situation I was in instead, I had no exit strategy. Just a hope that if I kept making stuff up as I went, something good would come of it. And it had wound up with neither of us able to make a move lest the other pull the trigger. The notion of just shooting his son and getting it all over with was entertained for a while, but events forced a change of strategy.

At that moment, the room suddenly became very cold. Fog streamed in, and soon we were joined by a familiar figure. Javert and I both lost interest in each other; Slender Man manifesting does tend to have that affect. He went to his knees and bowed; I tried to shoot the tall man. Except no matter how many times I pulled that trigger, no bullets came out. I threw the gun aside and tried charging him. Had I been thinking, I would have at least used my knife; instead, I was charging with my fist.

We’ll never know if punching is his one true weakness, as I was stopped dead before I could reach him. I don’t know what it was, I just couldn’t move. That thing walked closer to me, so smug and dignified. I felt something new as he came closer; some kind of communication. Not words, but feelings, sensations. Hard to put them into English words. Feelings of euphoria, of greatness, filling me, with the promise of more, more than I could ever have imagined….

I tried to spit on his suit. If I couldn’t punch him to make him shut up, I thought maybe that would. All I remember after that is feeling of intense pain through my entire body, worse than anything before, and then waking up in my apartment again.

I’m still feeling the pain from that. Like a burning down every nerve. Just breathing hurts; typing is agony. This post is being fueled on anger and spite; like hell I’m going to let him stop me from putting something online with some stupid little pain.

This apartment is more a trap than it was before. The doors out won’t open, no matter how hard I pull at them. I’ve tried breaking the windows, but everything I throw at them bounces off without any sign of cracking. Everything. Outside the windows, all I see is a solid wall of mist. It looks as though my apartment has been swallowed up by a sea of clouds, drifting through the emptiness….

Something big is going to happen soon. What exactly, I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have. But whatever it is, I’m going to be ready for it.


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