This wall seems pretty stupid

The car travelled by slowly enough for me to get a pretty good look at him. And suddenly as I was looking I realised that car window glass is just like regular glass. It works both ways. You may think that that’s a pretty obvious thing to realise and so do I. So do I now. But then the revelation dawned on me only slightly more quickly than a British train.

But now I moved quick. There was a wall about three feet behind me and I moved over towards it. It was only a little short thing about a foot high. And I remember thinking. This wall seems pretty stupid. It was so short that I pretty much threw myself over it. It was about two second later that I realised what the wall was for. It was to demark the edge of a sudden drop. A drop that in a very real sense I was about to experience first hand. Except I had managed to catch the seam of my jacket on a piece of metal that was embedded right into the wall. I was hanging, quite literally, by a thread.

I thought about whether I should think of something to do. Yes. That’s right dear reader. I did not think of something to do but instead I debated internally whether it was better to think about what to do or just do something. I had just about got to the point of realising that by just simply having had this thought I could no longer just do anything when I started hearing footsteps.

Before I could think of anything else I felt a hand grab me. Whoever it was they were strong. They picked me up by the top of my jacket. Lifted me up into the air and held me there.

He looked like a perfectly normal big guy. I’d love to say that he had a dangerous scar. Or that he had deep set eyes. Or that his eyes were too close together. Or well anything. But actually he looked nice enough. Albeit a bit angry at present.

He threw me to the ground on the altogether more pleasant side of the wall and while my eyes closed automatically I heard him walk off and get back in his car. And then I saw him drive away.

He looked over at me. He was hunched over and scowling. He gave me a look which said something to me that was much plainer than he might well have been able to articulate into words. His expression said, “If you think I’m angry now then imagine how angry I’ll be if you go to the police.”

And so I didn’t go to the police dear reader. Instead I simply went home. And that is where I am now. All of these events happened earlier this evening, and if you are having trouble deciphering what I have written then it is only because of how much my hand is shaking.

I wanted to go to the police obviously, but I was too afraid. I came back home and tried to sleep but I could not. And so I have decided to write down what happened That way I can relieve myself of the burden of what happened tonight without having to tell a living soul. Wait. There is someone at the door.

It was him at the door. And he’s still here now. He’s sitting on the opposite side of the desk. Staring at me. He’s asking what I’m writing. I tell him hat it is my journal. He asks if I usually keep writing in my journal while somebody else is in the room with me. I mention that I have but I’m usually not writing about the person who is sharing the room with me. He’s looking at me oddly now. Differently than before. I think I might have read him incorrectly before because this look looks more like angry than that look of his before.

He’s walking towards

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