Stigma, Chapter 4
[rewrite] [WIP] Yamato stumbles across something he was never meant to see... and now it seems someone may be determined to end his life, at any cost.
Digimon - PG-13 - English - Angst/Suspense - Words: 9703 - Updated: 03-14-08 - Published: 05-07-04
chapter three
Disclaimer: Toei's.
Author's Notes: ...I think it's a bit pathetic on my part that I have written out an entire discography for the band. I just never expected to make use of it when I wrote it a few years ago... :o
Stigma
by: butterflie
chapter four
[Tuesday]
The day went by agonizingly slow for Yamato, slower than the past few days had been. He was nervous and on edge, and though he knew how ridiculous it was he couldn't help glancing around the classroom every so often, reassuring himself it was safe.
He knew that Taichi had noticed his odd behaviour early on, but thankfully said nothing about it during lunch. He didn't expect to get out of a grilling though. Taichi was probably waiting until school was over to question him. Too bad for him, because Yamato conveniently had band practice and didn't have time to stick around talking to Taichi.
He also really hoped Ny stuck to his word about not letting band practice go on so late again. There was no way he was going to be walking around Odaiba in the dark. Or even just in fading twilight. And if for some reason it did go on that long, one of them would be giving him a ride, or he'd refuse to go to band practice ever again.
He grinned slightly at that, imagining how Ny would cover up his panicked reaction to that with anger, like he usually did when he thought he'd lose Yamato. It may have been Ny's band, but Yamato was the one that had gotten it to where it currently was. It would survive after he left, but it would never do as well.
"Mr. Ishida."
Yamato started, and looked up guiltily. Caught out. He hadn't been paying attention for quite some time.
"Care to share with the class just what is so amusing?"
His cheeks reddened. "Nothing, sir."
The teacher frowned, but chose to let it pass for once. "Please pay attention in my class, Mr. Ishida."
Yamato nodded. "Yes, sir." Oh, if only this day were over already.
"Again!" Ny insisted, frowning as he let his fingers fall to the keyboard.
Yamato let out a frustrated sigh as he set his guitar down, ready to let Ny have a piece of his mind.
It was Ratsuii, however, who exploded before Yamato could. "Ny, man, enough! We have practiced this piece at least a hundred times just in the last half hour! There is such a thing as 'overkill' you know. I think we reached that point a good two hours ago. Give it a rest already. Let's move on before we run out of time to practice anything else before the concert."
"Ratz is right, Ny. We're messing it up more than we did when we began practicing it, just from having to play it over and over so much."
Ny scowled and looked over at Kenji, who nodded. "They're both right, Ny, and you know they are."
Ny's scowl only deepened. "Fine. Let's move on to Niji."
"As if we haven't practiced that one a million times already, too..." Yamato muttered.
"Fine!" Ny threw his hands up in exasperation. "What do you think we should work on then?"
"Mirai kara," he said instantly. "You know that one always gives us trouble."
"Maybe it gives you trouble..."
"Oh, so you're saying you don't always mess up that one part now?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying!"
"You shouldn't let Ny get to you."
"Hmm?" Yamato glanced away from the window, knowing Kenji had said something but not knowing what.
"I said that you shouldn't let Ny get to you. He's just stressed, worrying about next week's concert."
Yamato sighed. "I know he is. It's fine. In a week the concert will be over and everything will go back to normal."
Kenji gave him a small smile. "He's always been this way," he said apologetically. "He gets really stressed out and impossible to deal with before any big thing. I guess it's good he didn't want to go to high school, he never would have survived the entrance exams."
"Yeah." Yamato laughed. He'd been around Nyusumi enough to see how stressed he got over important things.
"Well, this is your building coming up, right?"
"Yeah."
Yamato watched as Kenji leaned up and gently tapped his mother's shoulder. "Let him out here, mom." He looked back at Yamato. "Is this okay?"
"Sure. Thank you, Mrs. Jin. Thanks, Kenji. I'll see you tomorrow? I'm assuming Ny will want another band practice again..."
"Most likely, yeah." Kenji rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'll see ya."
He nodded and got out of the car, glad that Ny let him leave his instrument over there rather than making him take it back and forth each practice day. Lugging it around would have been a pain. He shut the door and gave a small wave to Kenji and his mother as they drove off.
He quickly turned to his building, determinedly not looking around at the dark night surrounding him. Band practice was a great distraction, he thought as he rode the old elevator up to his floor. But now... Now band practice was over, and there was nothing to keep the thoughts at bay.
He growled softly to himself, annoyed. He decided to think about Ny instead, and what Kenji had said about him. The two of them had obviously known each other for quite awhile before Ny formed his band, but he wondered just how long it actually was. Kenji had made it seem as if they'd known each other forever.
Well, maybe they had. For all he knew, they were childhood friends or something. He admittedly didn't know very much about his band members' pasts very much. He knew random things, like the fact that Kenji's dad was dead and Ratsuii's had ran off when he was little. He knew Ny had a sister, and the sad look on his face when he talked about her suggested a bad story in there somewhere. He knew Kenji had two older twin brothers who were constantly in trouble. He knew Ratsuii used a lot of his money from the band to support his four siblings, because his mother wasn't able to do it on his own.
He didn't really know much beyond that, didn't know any of the stories of the past that led to the present. He realized suddenly that he did want to know, and resolved to be more of a friend to his bandmates once their upcoming concert was over.
The elevator let out a small 'ding!' as it reached his floor, the doors sliding noisily open as it lurched to a stop. Yamato stepped out and walked down the corridor to his apartment quickly, already reaching to dig out his key. It wasn't late enough that his dad would be asleep, but it also wasn't late enough that would necessarily be home from the station, either.
He finally found his key shoved all the way in the bottom of his pocket, tangled up in some lint. He yanked it out and then went to slide it in the lock, stopping short when he realized something was pinned to the door. His heart pounding, he reached out and carefully pulled it off, looking down at it.
It was the newspaper article from the other day, the one talking about the death of Ogawa Yuniko and the supposed serial killer running loose around the city, as unusual as the phrase sounded. Yamato felt his body go cold. Someone had circled the picture of the dead girl with a red marker, and had written "This could have been you." over the text of the article.
He just stared down at it, not even aware that he was shaking until his trembling hands dropped both the paper and his key. Quickly he leaned down and snatched the paper up, then promptly ripped it into pieces, feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction as he did.
"You don't scare me," he said out loud, though his voice lacked any conviction. The man definitely scared him, and apparently they both knew it.
He bent back down to retrieve his key, and wondered as he let himself in if he should tell someone. Of course, if he were going to tell someone, he probably shouldn't have torn up the paper, or thrown away the letter from yesterday... Claims of being harassed and stalked didn't hold much weight without any kind of proof.
It didn't really matter though. He knew he was already too scared to actually tell anyone. It was his problem. He'd just have to deal with it on his own. Probably the man was merely scaring him, making sure Yamato didn't tell anyone. And if that was the case, the guy needn't worry, because Yamato wouldn't tell a soul about what he'd seen in the alleyway that night. Not if it meant getting to keep his life. He was sorry for the dead girl, though.
He went into his room, throwing away the pieces of newspaper as he went through the kitchen. His dad would be home within the next few hours, and he had to try to concentrate, get his homework done so that he wouldn't be accused of putting his band before school, even if that was exactly what he was doing.
[Wednesday]
Wednesday Yamato woke up pale and shaking, a huge knot of fear and dread settling down for the long haul in his stomach. He didn't want to leave the apartment, didn't want to have to go outside and know that someone was out there somewhere, watching him. Possibly watching every move he made from the moment he left the apartment in the morning to the moment he entered it again at night.
He couldn't think about it. He was going to be late. He tried to get out bed, get ready for school, but for some reason his body wasn't obeying the commands his mind was sending it. This must be what it's like to be 'frozen in fear,' he thought. He let out an unconscious, low-pitched whine.
A little while later--it couldn't have been more than ten minutes, though it felt more like ten lifetimes--Yamato heard his door open and saw his dad stick his head in the doorway. "Yamato?"
He tried to respond, but couldn't manage much more than a "Nnngh."
"Are you awake? You're going to be late for school if you don't get going."
"sssk," he mumbled.
His dad frowned. "What?"
"Sick," he said, finally getting the word out.
Mr. Ishida sighed and flipped on the light, coming into the room. Yamato winced at the sudden brightness, but didn't close his eyes. He didn't want his dad to think he only wanted sleep.
"You're shaking," his dad said in concern, putting a hand to his forehead for a moment. "You don't feel hot, though..."
"Sick," he repeated. "Stomach hurts."
There was a moment's pause. "Alright," his father said at last. "Stay home for today, get some sleep. But expect to go to school tomorrow."
He nodded. "Okay," he said in relief. Some of the fear melted away, only to be replaced with exhaustion. He felt his eyes trying to close and struggled to keep them open while his dad was in the room. His dad was still talking, he knew. Yamato didn't know what he was saying though. Something about work. It didn't really seem all that important.
He closed his eyes.
[Thursday]
It was almost scary how time could manage to pass so quickly. It was Thursday. Last Thursday he had been walking home from band practice and stumbled upon a girl getting raped in an alleyway. Now it was already a week later, and he had no idea what the day would bring. He wasn't really sure he wanted to find out, either.
He felt like he was going crazy, but in a slow-motion process. A little bit more of his sanity slipping by with each passing day. How much longer would it be before he cracked completely? Perhaps he needed to start keeping track of it. Dear Diary, today I lost [x] amount of sanity as it leaked out my ears... He let out a strange barking half-laugh. Yes, he was well on the road to becoming certifiably insane.
He stared blankly at the dark tv in front of him, only then realizing he'd never turned it on like he'd intended. The remote was even still resting loosely in his hand. Scowling slightly, he hit the power button. Hey! Hey! Hey! was on, in the middle of one of the live performances, by an artist he'd never followed much. He sighed. Someday, that would be him...
The phone rang. Startled out of his daydream, he stared at it, suddenly afraid to answer it. There had been the note in the mail, proving the guy knew who he was and where he lived. What if the next step was to hassle him with scary phone calls?
No, that was ridiculous. Surely it was Taichi or Sora, or one of his other friends. Maybe Koushiro or Takeru, or one of his fellow bandmates.
The phone wasn't stopping. Whoever was calling wasn't going to give up anytime soon. He'd have to answer it. Feeling stupid even as he did it, his eyes darted to the front door to make sure it was locked. Then he leaned over and carefully picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Yamato."
It was his dad. He let out a huge breath that he didn't even realize he'd been holding. "Hey, dad."
"Listen, I'll be getting home really late tonight, probably two or three AM, so you don't need to wait up. Just fix yourself something for dinner, I'll eat here. Stay safe, and be sure to do all of your homework, understand?"
Yamato rolled his eyes, glad his dad wasn't there to see. "I understand. I'll be fine, dad, don't worry about me."
"It's a parent's job to worry," his dad remarked. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"
"Okay. Bye dad." He hung up the phone, and collapsed back onto the couch. He'd gotten all worked up over the phone for nothing. Maybe the note really was nothing more than a cruel coincidence, after all.
[Friday]
Someone was following him, he was absolutely sure of it. There was no one suspicious-looking whenever he looked behind him, of course, but he knew it just the same. He could sense it, and for once he was sure it wasn't paranoia. He wished he'd followed up on a earlier thought to start walking to school with Taichi. At least then he might feel safer.
Better yet, perhaps he just ought to tell Taichi the whole sordid story. He was tired of being alone, carrying the burden of what he'd seen all by himself. He wanted someone else's opinion, to share the horror of what he knew. He wanted someone to be able to tell him what he should do, that everything would work out fine.
He knew he'd never tell Taichi though. He couldn't do that to him. He wanted to protect his best friend, in all ways and at all costs, and that meant keeping him ignorant with his silence.
He sent another nervous glance back over his shoulder, quickly scanning for anyone shady. Nothing. Nothing at all was out of the ordinary. It could be any one of the men walking down the crowded street, and he'd never know. Dear Diary, I lost even more of my sanity today... I'm down to about [x] pieces of sanity left.
He was glad when the gates of his school finally came into view, and practically ran towards them. Another morning survived without a nervous breakdown. Definitely high up on his list of accomplishments for the week.
The boy has been very nervous lately. He's dropped that abysmal job at the theater, and now watches the boy with his every waking moment, follows him everywhere he goes. The boy can't take more than five steps without looking behind his shoulder, his eyes always darting anxiously in every direction. His pace is always fast and hurried, as if he finds the less time spent outside, the better. He doesn't miss the scared glances the boy gives his apartment's mail box every time he goes in and out of the building, either. The boy is definitely on edge, and slowly beginning to slip over it.
This is very good, better than he'd anticipated at this point. He'd planned on a few more vague threatening notes, an anonymous phone call or two when the boy was home alone. But maybe none of that would be necessary. Perhaps he'll be able to step up the pace a bit.
He decides he can abandon his stake-out for a day or two, redo his plans. The break may even lure the boy into a false sense of security, which would help even more.
He smiles and lets his cigarette drop to the ground, grinding it beneath his boot as he walks away.
Chapter 4 fin
chapter five
Digimon - PG-13 - English - Angst/Suspense - Words: 9703 - Updated: 03-14-08 - Published: 05-07-04
chapter three
Disclaimer: Toei's.
Author's Notes: ...I think it's a bit pathetic on my part that I have written out an entire discography for the band. I just never expected to make use of it when I wrote it a few years ago... :o
Stigma
by: butterflie
chapter four
[Tuesday]
The day went by agonizingly slow for Yamato, slower than the past few days had been. He was nervous and on edge, and though he knew how ridiculous it was he couldn't help glancing around the classroom every so often, reassuring himself it was safe.
He knew that Taichi had noticed his odd behaviour early on, but thankfully said nothing about it during lunch. He didn't expect to get out of a grilling though. Taichi was probably waiting until school was over to question him. Too bad for him, because Yamato conveniently had band practice and didn't have time to stick around talking to Taichi.
He also really hoped Ny stuck to his word about not letting band practice go on so late again. There was no way he was going to be walking around Odaiba in the dark. Or even just in fading twilight. And if for some reason it did go on that long, one of them would be giving him a ride, or he'd refuse to go to band practice ever again.
He grinned slightly at that, imagining how Ny would cover up his panicked reaction to that with anger, like he usually did when he thought he'd lose Yamato. It may have been Ny's band, but Yamato was the one that had gotten it to where it currently was. It would survive after he left, but it would never do as well.
"Mr. Ishida."
Yamato started, and looked up guiltily. Caught out. He hadn't been paying attention for quite some time.
"Care to share with the class just what is so amusing?"
His cheeks reddened. "Nothing, sir."
The teacher frowned, but chose to let it pass for once. "Please pay attention in my class, Mr. Ishida."
Yamato nodded. "Yes, sir." Oh, if only this day were over already.
"Again!" Ny insisted, frowning as he let his fingers fall to the keyboard.
Yamato let out a frustrated sigh as he set his guitar down, ready to let Ny have a piece of his mind.
It was Ratsuii, however, who exploded before Yamato could. "Ny, man, enough! We have practiced this piece at least a hundred times just in the last half hour! There is such a thing as 'overkill' you know. I think we reached that point a good two hours ago. Give it a rest already. Let's move on before we run out of time to practice anything else before the concert."
"Ratz is right, Ny. We're messing it up more than we did when we began practicing it, just from having to play it over and over so much."
Ny scowled and looked over at Kenji, who nodded. "They're both right, Ny, and you know they are."
Ny's scowl only deepened. "Fine. Let's move on to Niji."
"As if we haven't practiced that one a million times already, too..." Yamato muttered.
"Fine!" Ny threw his hands up in exasperation. "What do you think we should work on then?"
"Mirai kara," he said instantly. "You know that one always gives us trouble."
"Maybe it gives you trouble..."
"Oh, so you're saying you don't always mess up that one part now?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying!"
"You shouldn't let Ny get to you."
"Hmm?" Yamato glanced away from the window, knowing Kenji had said something but not knowing what.
"I said that you shouldn't let Ny get to you. He's just stressed, worrying about next week's concert."
Yamato sighed. "I know he is. It's fine. In a week the concert will be over and everything will go back to normal."
Kenji gave him a small smile. "He's always been this way," he said apologetically. "He gets really stressed out and impossible to deal with before any big thing. I guess it's good he didn't want to go to high school, he never would have survived the entrance exams."
"Yeah." Yamato laughed. He'd been around Nyusumi enough to see how stressed he got over important things.
"Well, this is your building coming up, right?"
"Yeah."
Yamato watched as Kenji leaned up and gently tapped his mother's shoulder. "Let him out here, mom." He looked back at Yamato. "Is this okay?"
"Sure. Thank you, Mrs. Jin. Thanks, Kenji. I'll see you tomorrow? I'm assuming Ny will want another band practice again..."
"Most likely, yeah." Kenji rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'll see ya."
He nodded and got out of the car, glad that Ny let him leave his instrument over there rather than making him take it back and forth each practice day. Lugging it around would have been a pain. He shut the door and gave a small wave to Kenji and his mother as they drove off.
He quickly turned to his building, determinedly not looking around at the dark night surrounding him. Band practice was a great distraction, he thought as he rode the old elevator up to his floor. But now... Now band practice was over, and there was nothing to keep the thoughts at bay.
He growled softly to himself, annoyed. He decided to think about Ny instead, and what Kenji had said about him. The two of them had obviously known each other for quite awhile before Ny formed his band, but he wondered just how long it actually was. Kenji had made it seem as if they'd known each other forever.
Well, maybe they had. For all he knew, they were childhood friends or something. He admittedly didn't know very much about his band members' pasts very much. He knew random things, like the fact that Kenji's dad was dead and Ratsuii's had ran off when he was little. He knew Ny had a sister, and the sad look on his face when he talked about her suggested a bad story in there somewhere. He knew Kenji had two older twin brothers who were constantly in trouble. He knew Ratsuii used a lot of his money from the band to support his four siblings, because his mother wasn't able to do it on his own.
He didn't really know much beyond that, didn't know any of the stories of the past that led to the present. He realized suddenly that he did want to know, and resolved to be more of a friend to his bandmates once their upcoming concert was over.
The elevator let out a small 'ding!' as it reached his floor, the doors sliding noisily open as it lurched to a stop. Yamato stepped out and walked down the corridor to his apartment quickly, already reaching to dig out his key. It wasn't late enough that his dad would be asleep, but it also wasn't late enough that would necessarily be home from the station, either.
He finally found his key shoved all the way in the bottom of his pocket, tangled up in some lint. He yanked it out and then went to slide it in the lock, stopping short when he realized something was pinned to the door. His heart pounding, he reached out and carefully pulled it off, looking down at it.
It was the newspaper article from the other day, the one talking about the death of Ogawa Yuniko and the supposed serial killer running loose around the city, as unusual as the phrase sounded. Yamato felt his body go cold. Someone had circled the picture of the dead girl with a red marker, and had written "This could have been you." over the text of the article.
He just stared down at it, not even aware that he was shaking until his trembling hands dropped both the paper and his key. Quickly he leaned down and snatched the paper up, then promptly ripped it into pieces, feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction as he did.
"You don't scare me," he said out loud, though his voice lacked any conviction. The man definitely scared him, and apparently they both knew it.
He bent back down to retrieve his key, and wondered as he let himself in if he should tell someone. Of course, if he were going to tell someone, he probably shouldn't have torn up the paper, or thrown away the letter from yesterday... Claims of being harassed and stalked didn't hold much weight without any kind of proof.
It didn't really matter though. He knew he was already too scared to actually tell anyone. It was his problem. He'd just have to deal with it on his own. Probably the man was merely scaring him, making sure Yamato didn't tell anyone. And if that was the case, the guy needn't worry, because Yamato wouldn't tell a soul about what he'd seen in the alleyway that night. Not if it meant getting to keep his life. He was sorry for the dead girl, though.
He went into his room, throwing away the pieces of newspaper as he went through the kitchen. His dad would be home within the next few hours, and he had to try to concentrate, get his homework done so that he wouldn't be accused of putting his band before school, even if that was exactly what he was doing.
[Wednesday]
Wednesday Yamato woke up pale and shaking, a huge knot of fear and dread settling down for the long haul in his stomach. He didn't want to leave the apartment, didn't want to have to go outside and know that someone was out there somewhere, watching him. Possibly watching every move he made from the moment he left the apartment in the morning to the moment he entered it again at night.
He couldn't think about it. He was going to be late. He tried to get out bed, get ready for school, but for some reason his body wasn't obeying the commands his mind was sending it. This must be what it's like to be 'frozen in fear,' he thought. He let out an unconscious, low-pitched whine.
A little while later--it couldn't have been more than ten minutes, though it felt more like ten lifetimes--Yamato heard his door open and saw his dad stick his head in the doorway. "Yamato?"
He tried to respond, but couldn't manage much more than a "Nnngh."
"Are you awake? You're going to be late for school if you don't get going."
"sssk," he mumbled.
His dad frowned. "What?"
"Sick," he said, finally getting the word out.
Mr. Ishida sighed and flipped on the light, coming into the room. Yamato winced at the sudden brightness, but didn't close his eyes. He didn't want his dad to think he only wanted sleep.
"You're shaking," his dad said in concern, putting a hand to his forehead for a moment. "You don't feel hot, though..."
"Sick," he repeated. "Stomach hurts."
There was a moment's pause. "Alright," his father said at last. "Stay home for today, get some sleep. But expect to go to school tomorrow."
He nodded. "Okay," he said in relief. Some of the fear melted away, only to be replaced with exhaustion. He felt his eyes trying to close and struggled to keep them open while his dad was in the room. His dad was still talking, he knew. Yamato didn't know what he was saying though. Something about work. It didn't really seem all that important.
He closed his eyes.
[Thursday]
It was almost scary how time could manage to pass so quickly. It was Thursday. Last Thursday he had been walking home from band practice and stumbled upon a girl getting raped in an alleyway. Now it was already a week later, and he had no idea what the day would bring. He wasn't really sure he wanted to find out, either.
He felt like he was going crazy, but in a slow-motion process. A little bit more of his sanity slipping by with each passing day. How much longer would it be before he cracked completely? Perhaps he needed to start keeping track of it. Dear Diary, today I lost [x] amount of sanity as it leaked out my ears... He let out a strange barking half-laugh. Yes, he was well on the road to becoming certifiably insane.
He stared blankly at the dark tv in front of him, only then realizing he'd never turned it on like he'd intended. The remote was even still resting loosely in his hand. Scowling slightly, he hit the power button. Hey! Hey! Hey! was on, in the middle of one of the live performances, by an artist he'd never followed much. He sighed. Someday, that would be him...
The phone rang. Startled out of his daydream, he stared at it, suddenly afraid to answer it. There had been the note in the mail, proving the guy knew who he was and where he lived. What if the next step was to hassle him with scary phone calls?
No, that was ridiculous. Surely it was Taichi or Sora, or one of his other friends. Maybe Koushiro or Takeru, or one of his fellow bandmates.
The phone wasn't stopping. Whoever was calling wasn't going to give up anytime soon. He'd have to answer it. Feeling stupid even as he did it, his eyes darted to the front door to make sure it was locked. Then he leaned over and carefully picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Yamato."
It was his dad. He let out a huge breath that he didn't even realize he'd been holding. "Hey, dad."
"Listen, I'll be getting home really late tonight, probably two or three AM, so you don't need to wait up. Just fix yourself something for dinner, I'll eat here. Stay safe, and be sure to do all of your homework, understand?"
Yamato rolled his eyes, glad his dad wasn't there to see. "I understand. I'll be fine, dad, don't worry about me."
"It's a parent's job to worry," his dad remarked. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"
"Okay. Bye dad." He hung up the phone, and collapsed back onto the couch. He'd gotten all worked up over the phone for nothing. Maybe the note really was nothing more than a cruel coincidence, after all.
[Friday]
Someone was following him, he was absolutely sure of it. There was no one suspicious-looking whenever he looked behind him, of course, but he knew it just the same. He could sense it, and for once he was sure it wasn't paranoia. He wished he'd followed up on a earlier thought to start walking to school with Taichi. At least then he might feel safer.
Better yet, perhaps he just ought to tell Taichi the whole sordid story. He was tired of being alone, carrying the burden of what he'd seen all by himself. He wanted someone else's opinion, to share the horror of what he knew. He wanted someone to be able to tell him what he should do, that everything would work out fine.
He knew he'd never tell Taichi though. He couldn't do that to him. He wanted to protect his best friend, in all ways and at all costs, and that meant keeping him ignorant with his silence.
He sent another nervous glance back over his shoulder, quickly scanning for anyone shady. Nothing. Nothing at all was out of the ordinary. It could be any one of the men walking down the crowded street, and he'd never know. Dear Diary, I lost even more of my sanity today... I'm down to about [x] pieces of sanity left.
He was glad when the gates of his school finally came into view, and practically ran towards them. Another morning survived without a nervous breakdown. Definitely high up on his list of accomplishments for the week.
The boy has been very nervous lately. He's dropped that abysmal job at the theater, and now watches the boy with his every waking moment, follows him everywhere he goes. The boy can't take more than five steps without looking behind his shoulder, his eyes always darting anxiously in every direction. His pace is always fast and hurried, as if he finds the less time spent outside, the better. He doesn't miss the scared glances the boy gives his apartment's mail box every time he goes in and out of the building, either. The boy is definitely on edge, and slowly beginning to slip over it.
This is very good, better than he'd anticipated at this point. He'd planned on a few more vague threatening notes, an anonymous phone call or two when the boy was home alone. But maybe none of that would be necessary. Perhaps he'll be able to step up the pace a bit.
He decides he can abandon his stake-out for a day or two, redo his plans. The break may even lure the boy into a false sense of security, which would help even more.
He smiles and lets his cigarette drop to the ground, grinding it beneath his boot as he walks away.
Chapter 4 fin
chapter five