"Shave regularly, go to a gas station or rest stop and wash your face and hair. Have a good change of clothes in a plastic bag. When you need money, just put 'em on and go wash dishes for a night or two. Work means food and transportation. It means food. It means life."
Her exact words, I still remember writing them down like she told me to. I still remember her long brown hair and her piercing gaze. She might have been a real go getter, if it weren't for the circumstances. She was way smart and creative. Beautiful, for someone who didn't take regular showers and lived outside most of the time. I remember nodding dumbly to her advice too. I remember thinking that she'd never get caught.
For a while, we'd just meet up if we were near each other and move on. We'd keep in touch as we drifted. Call each other if He showed up. I think it was comforting, knowing that she was out there. Still fighting, surviving. Survival stories seem to beacon of hope for us.
But traveling alone is dangerous. Not just because of Him but everyone else. She had called me, told me to meet her in Chicago. Alli was shaken up and I questioned her until she told me the entire horrifying story. She'd been attacked late at night. Not by Him, no. Some guy roaming around with a goddam inferiority complex and a knife had jumped her. I'll spare you the rest of the details. This isn't an episode of Law and Order.
The truth of it all is that we run for safety. It's like this giant game of release, we're all running away and trying to find safety in some city. He always seems to find us though. So we keep running. Because it's the safest thing that we can do. And every night, you don't know if you'll be sleeping or not. Every night, you don't know if He'll give you the drop. Just peer around a corner, stare up at you from an empty alley and tilt that terrible vicious head of His. And you can only imagine what he wants. You can only imagine what will happen when He catches you.
But people, He isn't the only thing we're afraid of. Just like Allison, ask any runner and they should have some horror story about the incredibly mad world we all live in. Just in the past two years, I've;
-Been jumped five times
-Two of those times I was mugged
-Been held at knife point
-Been threatened with a gun
-Had things stolen from me as I slept
-Been chased by the police
Point is, there are a lot of ways to die on the run other than Him.
But that guy in near Chicago, that was Allison's breaking point. She couldn't go it alone anymore. From that day on, we ran together. And I got to admit, it wasn't so bad. You know, apart from the homelessness, the supernatural stalking, and the rest of it. We'd comfort each other, pool our money. We could eat better, travel in just a little more comfort. We could take turns taking watch as the other slept. There was just a little more security against the world.
With her, I didn't feel so empty from the running. She'd make up little jokes or songs, try to keep me cheerful. She treated me like my sister did when I was real little. Reading over that, it just sounds absurd. I can't help but imagine her saying "Did the big bad Slendy Man hurt you? I'll beat him up. I'll kick his ass back to wherever he came from." It sounds just like her.
It didn't last though. We parted in Philly, a real bitter-sweet ending to our time together. There weren't any goodbyes. We'd been on a roof for the night, I had left to pick up some food and when I came back the lights of a cop car distracted me. I was hit in the gut with a wave of fear, a disabling terror that He'd come for her. The door to the building opened and two cops escorted her out. She smiled at me before they put her in the back of a car and drove away.
It was devastating. She'd asked me to stick with her, to protect her. We'd been together for three months, just about, and I was finally finding some of that warmth I'd lost. I'd told her I'd be right back with her Snack Wrap and fries. She'd laughed and told me to hurry back. Then she gets carted away. There was nothing I could do about it. I'd failed. I'm not sure what happens after the police take you away for trespassing. But I know that she kept a journal. Those damn journals. If I was a cop and I read through one of those, I'd haul whoever wrote it to an asylum.
I just hope that wherever she is, she's well. And out of His eyes.
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