Present thoughts

9:30 pm

  I bet many lives on the dollar that you, Dear Reader, have heard the saying, “I would die for you”. That saying has no real grasp to it. So, let me tell you a story about the saying, “I would kill for you.”

September 19, 2018

Boston, Massachusetts

11:03 am

  I can’t say I have ever been truly normal, but I have maintained the status quo of normalcy. If they truly knew what is going on, well, let’s just say I would be called names. It’s a Wednesday at my normal coffee spot. I am holding a cappuccino with nothing but the blackest brew they could give me, besides the foam milk sitting in a swirl. I look up from my book; he is standing at the counter. His hair is in a wavy mess. His eyes have a green glint of something new and frightening, and the way he greets the barista behind the counter says everything I need to know. 

  I have been gawking, or whatever you call it, at him for weeks. I know his voice and the way he likes his coffee. I know everything one can from sitting at the little coffee shop. He always wore the same flannels on repeat like clockwork. First, it was the black-and-white one, then the green-and-blue one, and so on. 

  He takes his coffee to the usual table, two away from me vertically. I go back to my book, which isn’t anything special. I have read the same thing six times by now. The pages are worn and starting to yellow in the corners. 

   No person is able or willing to bother me in my world until I am wrong. All of a sudden, someone trips over my bag that I had placed on the floor. I looked up and there he was, falling. His cup flew out of his hands and hit the concrete with a distinct thud. 

  “Frick,” he said as he got up. “Sorry, Miss, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking, and um… I tripped over your bag. I hope I didn’t break anything of value…”

  I was so stunned by what happened that a response wouldn’t come out. I just stared. He looked at me, confused why I had not said anything.

  “It’s quite alright, um, you didn’t disturb me. If anything, it’s my fault. I put my bag in the wrong spot. Let me get you another coffee.” I stated, hoping he would say yes.

  “Well…ok sure, why not. I could honestly use the company,” he murmured. So we walk back up to order his coffee after cleaning up.

  “I never asked what your name was. You can call me Catalia Grace.  So what is it? Is it Josh or um George Washington?” I asked curiously. 

  “It’s Archer…Archer Haze that is.” He smiles. Hours and hours go by as we chat about this and that. 

October 30, 2019

Salem, Massachusetts

  A year has passed since that day in the coffee shop, and Archer has become part of me.  We picked up our lives and moved to Salem. He found an amazing job working for an art museum. And I found more time to make my art. But something is different. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that maybe he isn’t who he says he is. Or maybe I am lying to myself about who I am. Now it would be admitting to crimes if I told you about it.

  The front door slammed and broke my concentration on telling you all about our lives so far. My painted brush slipped and made a long red gash across it.

   “Catalia, can you come out of your studio?” he declared. I walked out into our living room, covered in paint. My long brown hair was twisted up into a claw clip. 

  “Archer, what do you need? I was in the middle of painting a portrait,”  I exasperated.  I don’t know why he needs me or what he wants.  He walks over to me and wipes off a glob of paint from my cheek.

  “I was wondering, since  Halloween is tomorrow, if we could go to a fancy haunted house. I got you something to wear too!” he smiled and looked down at me. I smile and give a nod. He turns away to grab the Target bag off the counter. I push myself off the wall and take the bag. Inside the bag lies a graphic tee with Michael Myers on the front of it.

  “Il mio arciere, I love it.” I put the shirt back into the bag and drop it while grabbing him into a tight hug.

Halloween 2019

Haunted house

5:32 pm

  As we walk throughout the haunted house, I realize that I have to tell him. He needs to know the truth about what happened at the campground. I see the gore, and it reminds me of that night. That horrible night. No, he is alive, not dead, but alive.  It was a bear, I swear it was a bear.

   We exit the haunted house, and I take the keys from him. We hop in the car and drive to the cemetery. I park the car and walk into the cemetery. This time, Archer stays behind.

July 14, 2018

Boston National Park

9:30 pm

  “Archer, I am tired. I will see you in the morning. Goodnight, il mio arciere”, I mumble as I step into the tent set up around the fire. He looks at me and nods.

  “Goodnight, Cat…I love you,” he grinned. I step inside the tent. The tent is lit by lanterns, and the sleeping bags are already rolled out. I set my boots by the door, then turned off the lights. I climbed into the sleeping bag and nodded off.

10:15 pm

  I woke up to someone screaming. The screams sounded like someone in pain. I jolted out of my sleeping bag and grabbed a flashlight and a heavy water bottle. I quietly unzipped the tent to see Archer lying on the forest floor, covered in blood. Then I saw him. This man was standing over Archer with something, and I can’t tell what. I slip out of the tent, and he sees me. I bolt into the forest to get help. I scream and scream, but I keep running. He follows after me. After a while, I stopped because I couldn’t hear him. I hide behind a tree and wait for him. He came into the clearing. Something primal became prominent inside me, and I did the unthinkable.

11:03 pm

  I reach camp covered with wounds, and with no man chasing me. Archer is still breathing, but he has lost consciousness and a lot of blood. He moved himself against a tree while I was being hunted. I sprinted to his side and I put pressure on his wounds. It doesn’t work, though. The wounds are too serious.

 “Archer, Archer, please open your eyes.” I pleaded. His eyes flutter open for a second in recognition. He mumbles,   “Catalia, I don’t feel ok. Tell them it was a bear that attacked me. Don’t let them find out who that man was. Please don’t go looking for who he was. I messed up a long time ago, and he was collecting my debt.”

  “Archer, I can’t do that for you. I can’t keep what happened to you a secret. I can’t live with the guilt of not getting justice for you.” I start to sob. He looks at me and puts his blood-soaked hand to my cheek. 

  “Cat, baby, I would kill for you. Don’t forget that,” he whispered. His breath shallows and then stops. I let out a dismembered scream. He was dead, and I could not share what actually happened. I love him. I would kill for him. I lay there sobbing, and then I got the courage to call the police.

Halloween 2019

The Cemetery in which Archer Haze lies

  I walk down the rows of the headstones and find his. No, this isn’t right. He is in the car with me. I am not crazy at all. But the headstone is still there. No, Archer isn’t gone. We went on that camping trip and came back. I swear. I swear. I fall to my knees and uncontrollably sob and wail. 

  I am not crazy. He is with me, and he is haunting me. I am haunted by what happened that night. God save me. What have I done? I see him everywhere, and yet I embrace him like he were still alive. He told me he was real. I believe this. Before, I knew I’d cry myself to sleep on his headstone.

Present Thoughts

11:03 am

Boston Mental Hospital.

  Well, have you enjoyed the messed-up story? Yes, yes, it was quite traumatic for me. But I did eventually find my way into a Mental Hospital. I got the help I needed, and I gave a proper statement on what happened that night. I was also found not guilty of killing the man because it