I'm writing this from a cafe in the middle of nowhere. I'm mooching off the Wi-fi of some buisness type with a mobile hotspot. The chick at the bar tells me I'm in Wyoming. But that can't be possible. I went to sleep three days ago about 50 miles from the Washington-Oregon border. How the hell did I get here? Why can't I remember anything?
To make matters worse, the diary's back. I woke up with it in the seat next to me, just lying there like it had ben there all along. I flipped through it and... things had been added. Recently. Stuff in red ink. It looked like the stuff Alex had in his rooms. Which reminds me, the stuff I took from there when I left is gone. The drawings I mean. Just poof.
I'm seriously freaked out. By now, I'm pissed too. Somebody's fucking with me. Stealing days of my life in God knows what way. He's trying to ruin my life, and I'm not playing that game. I'm going to see Sheila's mom tomorrow. I'll post again after that. Hopefully I find something that'll help me beat this guy. Cause I'm done running. It's motherfucking war now. Game on faggot. Let's play.