It's black and I'm lonely
Oh if I could only get some sleep
Creaking noises make my skin creep
I need to get some sleep
I can't get no sleep
New everything is still dull. Maybe safer, but it doesn't feel like it. Still paranoid. Still shaking at every noise and movement anyone makes. Sitting at home watching the tiny TV in the relocation home, or on my laptop on TVTropes. Got onto the Nothing Is Scarier pages. That was probably a bad idea. Now I'm lying here, on my laptop, listening to Have A Nice Life. At least that's good.
I hate my life so much right now.
Sunday, 8 May 2011
Friday, 6 May 2011
Purgatory-esque
There's NOTHING here. I've been walking around this area for hours. Nothing over 40 years old exists here except maybe the trees. All made-to-order housing estates for the sort-of-well-off and council housing. Small smatterings of franchised shops. Groups of kids who look like they want to stab me for wearing a Depeche Mode t-shirt, all with haircuts copied from footballers and tracksuit tops. Am I really so middle-class that kids who are clearly working-class actively scare me just by their presence? (I should never have watched Eden Lake with Simon) There's a park nearby, but - well, I can't deal with parks right now. News of Joey's death is still ringing in my ears.
To tell you the truth, I'm still reeling from Ms. Fisher's death, and her boyfriend's death, and the knowlege that I'm being stalked by the man who did it. These days, I wake up throughout the night just...screaming. Screaming and weeping. Eventually I cry myself to sleep, hating myself for being so weak. I alternate between having to sleep in the dark and needing the hall light on. When it's dark, it's too impenetrable, but when it's light, the shadows are too pronounced. Sometimes I'll want dark. Sometimes I'll want not so dark. Sometimes I just don't sleep. Being relocated hasn't changed that.
There's nothing to do here. I wish I could live over the internet. It's so much less lonely. There's always new people. But even that's sad. The worlds our minds inhabit since the internet and videogames and home film have become so much larger, but the physical one has become smaller. The known and the unknown both become larger, more intimidating.
I need happy stories. If anyone has any nice stories of things that're going on in their lives, please post them in the comments. I could use the pick-me-up.
To tell you the truth, I'm still reeling from Ms. Fisher's death, and her boyfriend's death, and the knowlege that I'm being stalked by the man who did it. These days, I wake up throughout the night just...screaming. Screaming and weeping. Eventually I cry myself to sleep, hating myself for being so weak. I alternate between having to sleep in the dark and needing the hall light on. When it's dark, it's too impenetrable, but when it's light, the shadows are too pronounced. Sometimes I'll want dark. Sometimes I'll want not so dark. Sometimes I just don't sleep. Being relocated hasn't changed that.
There's nothing to do here. I wish I could live over the internet. It's so much less lonely. There's always new people. But even that's sad. The worlds our minds inhabit since the internet and videogames and home film have become so much larger, but the physical one has become smaller. The known and the unknown both become larger, more intimidating.
I need happy stories. If anyone has any nice stories of things that're going on in their lives, please post them in the comments. I could use the pick-me-up.
Thursday, 5 May 2011
Escape
My family and I are now in witness protection. I'm not going to tell you my new name or where I am, but we're far away. My internet connection is being routed through a proxy server in our old house (under police supervision - no piracy or, I dunno, ordering murders over the internet for me) because apparently in this age of social networking sites, it's better to continue with my old things than make new ones and have someone pick up on stylistic similarities. As long as I don't mention my new name and where I am. In the meantime...let's say that Daddy would be well-advised to not try and check out the house. I hope he does, so that I can come home.
I've broken up with Simon. Well, we're giving it a rest. Whether it's my having to move away, or his...incessant desire to share deeply private elements of my own trauma throughout this whole ordeal, I think it's best we have a break. I don't know whether or not I'm going back to him. I mean, I get that his blog is his place to get his emotions down (well, it's meant to be a film blog, but I guess that's gone out of the window) but there are some things I SPECIFICALLY ASKED HIM NOT TO SHARE. Namely, my fucking breakdown when that monster showed up practically in my back garden, and telling everyone who reads his blog about how I didn't care that Joey was missing as long as my ass was safer. That last one does sting more now. Either way, while I do love him, I just don't trust him anymore, and he simply doesn't respect me. Maybe I'll have a different perspective when I get back.
Anyway, I guess after all this time being stalked by some kind of serial killer, followed by whisking me halfway across the country into a new, creepily well-prepared house for me and my family, I'm expected to feel a little back in my shell. But I don't feel any less on edge than I did back in Eastbourne. I can't relax, or get it into my head that there's no way he could find us. I get staying a little highly strung, but I'm wound so damn tight...
Ugh. Anyway, I guess I'm going to go job-hunting tomorrow. I need some way to meet people while I'm here. Feeling isolated. All alone with my thoughts. It doesn't help my outlook. The world seems darker, scarier. It always feels like something could creep into the corner of my vision at any moment. I'm still scared to look out of windows. Just in case.
I've broken up with Simon. Well, we're giving it a rest. Whether it's my having to move away, or his...incessant desire to share deeply private elements of my own trauma throughout this whole ordeal, I think it's best we have a break. I don't know whether or not I'm going back to him. I mean, I get that his blog is his place to get his emotions down (well, it's meant to be a film blog, but I guess that's gone out of the window) but there are some things I SPECIFICALLY ASKED HIM NOT TO SHARE. Namely, my fucking breakdown when that monster showed up practically in my back garden, and telling everyone who reads his blog about how I didn't care that Joey was missing as long as my ass was safer. That last one does sting more now. Either way, while I do love him, I just don't trust him anymore, and he simply doesn't respect me. Maybe I'll have a different perspective when I get back.
Anyway, I guess after all this time being stalked by some kind of serial killer, followed by whisking me halfway across the country into a new, creepily well-prepared house for me and my family, I'm expected to feel a little back in my shell. But I don't feel any less on edge than I did back in Eastbourne. I can't relax, or get it into my head that there's no way he could find us. I get staying a little highly strung, but I'm wound so damn tight...
Ugh. Anyway, I guess I'm going to go job-hunting tomorrow. I need some way to meet people while I'm here. Feeling isolated. All alone with my thoughts. It doesn't help my outlook. The world seems darker, scarier. It always feels like something could creep into the corner of my vision at any moment. I'm still scared to look out of windows. Just in case.
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Goddamn it.
This article just went up on the local newspaper's website. I can't screenshot it like Simon, so I'm just going to copy and paste the article.
"In the third murder attributed to what some are calling the Bourne Butcher, the body of seven year old Joseph Walker has been found in Gilderedge Park, Eastbourne. In a similar fashion to his teacher, Louise Fisher, who was murdered almost a month ago, Walker appears to have had his chest cavity opened, his internal organs removed, and placed around the body. Early reports also suggest that, like Louise Fisher, his limbs seem to have been stretched significantly.
His body was found on a small stone table in a secluded area of the park, where it was discovered by a late night jogger. Walker had been missing for over a week, having been kidnappend from his family home on the night of Sunday 24th.
This tragedy only confirms suspicions voiced by critics that the real killer was still at large and that former sex offender John Halderman was not the perpetrator, as he was in police custody during the estimated time of death.
According to police sources, the East Sussex police are shifting their attention to protecting the classroom assistant who found the body of Louise Fisher, as she has reportedly been the target of several threats from a man fitting the description of the suspect. Why this was not taken note of before, allowing for the freeing of John Halderman, has not been commented upon."
I think I'm going to be sick.
"In the third murder attributed to what some are calling the Bourne Butcher, the body of seven year old Joseph Walker has been found in Gilderedge Park, Eastbourne. In a similar fashion to his teacher, Louise Fisher, who was murdered almost a month ago, Walker appears to have had his chest cavity opened, his internal organs removed, and placed around the body. Early reports also suggest that, like Louise Fisher, his limbs seem to have been stretched significantly.
His body was found on a small stone table in a secluded area of the park, where it was discovered by a late night jogger. Walker had been missing for over a week, having been kidnappend from his family home on the night of Sunday 24th.
This tragedy only confirms suspicions voiced by critics that the real killer was still at large and that former sex offender John Halderman was not the perpetrator, as he was in police custody during the estimated time of death.
According to police sources, the East Sussex police are shifting their attention to protecting the classroom assistant who found the body of Louise Fisher, as she has reportedly been the target of several threats from a man fitting the description of the suspect. Why this was not taken note of before, allowing for the freeing of John Halderman, has not been commented upon."
I think I'm going to be sick.
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
Distrust
Just got off the phone with DCI. Duncan. The son of a bitch doesn't believe me. He has explaination after explaination as to why what's in those photos isn't real. I'm paranoid. I'm seeing things. I photoshopped them to get attention. I'm suffering from Survivor's Guilt. PTSD. He accepts that Halderman can't be the only one behind Daddy's crimes, but he's not paying attention to what, as far as I'm concerned, is pretty persuasive proof that he wasn't even involved - two tall, thin, bald men, working together? Do they have a union or something? He just wants to believe that he solved the case - with my help, he is quick to remind me. It's hard to tell whether it's his ego refusing to take a dent, or denial of the idea that Daddy is still walking around, free as a pretty bird in the spring.
So I'm alone. No police protection for me or Simon, even though this fucker was right outside his house, looking in. I haven't been to Simon's since Thursday. Haven't left my room in days. Drawing deeper and deeper inside myself. Sleeping with the lights on. Sleeping less. Not sleeping, sometimes. Jumping every time the house settles or the wind blows. every time I close my eyes, I'm scared, because i don't know what'll be there when I open them. Maybe I am paranoid, but that doesn't mean that there isn't someone after me. I have photographic proof. I've got a friend, Laura, coming back down from University to stay with me. She arrives later today. I'll try and keep my...issues under wraps until then. I still have no reason to believe Daddy knows where I live. No headaches in a while though.
That's something.
So I'm alone. No police protection for me or Simon, even though this fucker was right outside his house, looking in. I haven't been to Simon's since Thursday. Haven't left my room in days. Drawing deeper and deeper inside myself. Sleeping with the lights on. Sleeping less. Not sleeping, sometimes. Jumping every time the house settles or the wind blows. every time I close my eyes, I'm scared, because i don't know what'll be there when I open them. Maybe I am paranoid, but that doesn't mean that there isn't someone after me. I have photographic proof. I've got a friend, Laura, coming back down from University to stay with me. She arrives later today. I'll try and keep my...issues under wraps until then. I still have no reason to believe Daddy knows where I live. No headaches in a while though.
That's something.
Sunday, 1 May 2011
Tell me I'm seeing things
I found these on my phone. They're from Wednesday night, while I was drunk, at about 2:30 in the morning. The latter was taken near Simon's house. The former was taken inside, from an upstairs window. Click to enlarge. You'll see what I mean.
Please let me be wrong. Please.
EDIT: Just realised. These photographs aren't giving me headaches. If your head hurts after looking at this, get in touch, but otherwise, that's an interesting little discovery.
Saturday, 30 April 2011
Unheimliche
So it turns out that getting caught up in a case of people disappearing or being murdered immediately after being stalked doesn't do wonders for the psyche, especially the realisation that the person doing so is probably still at large. On top of my being worried sick almost all the time about Joey, I've become increasingly paranoid over the last few weeks. It's odd. I find myself unconsciously avoiding windows - being near them, or looking out of them - and finding excuses not to go outside, staying in the house.
Did anyone here know the etymology of the word uncanny? I mean, we use it to describe something which is just slightly off, with an emphasis on creepily so; familiar, yet at the same time, alien. And of course, canny indicates knowledge, or knowing. So the word itself means "not known", or in the modern sense, "outside of knowledge". But that's not where the word comes from. It's descended from the German word Unheimliche, which means "un-home-like", or the feeling of being "not at home", like those pictures Ms. Fisher took of her apartment. Familiar, yet not the place it once was. Off. She and her boyfriend both died in that place. It's now a burnt, blackened shell. She was right. It wasn't her home.
And that's my problem right there. I'm not at home. Paranoid, uncomfortable. Full of unease. My eyes not allowing themselves to linger on the dark places. My mental state was pretty damn fractured after finding Ms. Fisher, and I feel like I should admit that my tone on here is me actively hiding just how fucked up I still am about that. Better to keep smiling, eh? And I never smile when I'm alone anymore.
And that's my problem right there. I'm not at home. Paranoid, uncomfortable. Full of unease. My eyes not allowing themselves to linger on the dark places. My mental state was pretty damn fractured after finding Ms. Fisher, and I feel like I should admit that my tone on here is me actively hiding just how fucked up I still am about that. Better to keep smiling, eh? And I never smile when I'm alone anymore.
P.S. Joey's name is actually Joey. The fake name thing was a double bluff. I figure, since his name (Joseph Walker) is now a matter of public knowledge, what with all the press coverage, it can't hurt to say now.
P.P.S. I had not read House of Leaves when I wrote this! I feel kinda embarrassed...
P.P.S. I had not read House of Leaves when I wrote this! I feel kinda embarrassed...
Thursday, 28 April 2011
Reproach
Today, a nagging little fear was confirmed. There's no way that Halderman could have worked the computer mojo on the security cameras. No-one can figure out exactly how that was done. The recorder was a closed system. They have a theory involving some kind of hyper-complex virus, but it's a stretch. Additionally, while Halderman is wily, his little Harry Houdini trick in and out of that house seems beyond him. I have no doubt he was involved. Guys like him, with that description and that track record aren't exactly ten-a-penny. But he can't have acted alone. That's the only explaination anyone can think of. Which means that someone still probably has Joey. The police force is back up to its full capacity, taking in detectives from all over the county. They're scouring everywhere. No luck.
In other news, my head still hurts. I expected quite the hangover, but this is ridiculous. I guess, with my constitution, problems like this are unavoidable.
In other news, my head still hurts. I expected quite the hangover, but this is ridiculous. I guess, with my constitution, problems like this are unavoidable.
Wednesday, 27 April 2011
Malaise
I'm feeling at rather a loose end. I'm not going back to Motcombe because, well, a teacher's death is as good a reason as any to cancel classes for a while in their management's eyes. I've been sitting at home, restless, waiting for a call about Joey having been found or Halderman confessing. I can't sit still. Daytime TV sucks, it turns out there's only a finite mumber of things to read on Cracked, and most of my DVDs have ended up round Simon's house somehow...fortunately, Simon put me onto TVTropes, which I was sceptical about after my first lookaround, until I realised that two hours had passed since I first went on in what definitely felt like fifteen minutes. So, if nothing else, it's a pretty good time-sink. Even then, I'm feeling uneasy - restless, like I said. I feel like I should be doing...something. Instead, I've elected to do almost nothing.
I'm going out tonight with Simon and a few friends. Hit a few clubs, probably get inordinately drunk, do a little dance, make a little etcetera etcetera. Get down tonight, is what I'm saying. If anyone's in Eastbourne tonight, maybe I'll see you around!
I'm going out tonight with Simon and a few friends. Hit a few clubs, probably get inordinately drunk, do a little dance, make a little etcetera etcetera. Get down tonight, is what I'm saying. If anyone's in Eastbourne tonight, maybe I'll see you around!
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
Transcript
Okay, here's a transcript of the interview which took place about three hours ago.
Richard Duncan: Alright, Mr. Halderman, have a seat. This is Mr. North, he'll be your appointed lawyer for these preceedings.
(sounds of chairs scraping)
RD: Do you know who this boy is?
(sound of dry chuckling)
John Holderman: I've seen him in the paper. I hear you guys are having trouble finding the one who took him.
RD: Well that's the thing. We got this photograph of the one who did it.
(Sound of photo paper fluttering)
JH: Ahhhhh...picture's a little low-resolution to be just wheeling me in, isn't it?
RD: Tall, gangly, thin frame, bald, wearing a suit with a black tie. Almost exactly as we found you.
JH: I was on my way back from a job interview. What would you wear, shorts? That's not me. Besides, how'd you get a picture? Last I heard, the one who stole the kid did it without you seeing hide nor hair of him.
RD: This is from the schoolteacher murder, the first crime. She has dozens of pictures of you following her.
Barrister Geoff Paige: Chief Inspector, if you're going to be so casually accusing my client of murder and child abduction, I'd at least expect you to have better evidence than bad photos of a tall bald man.
RD: Tall bald men aren't in short supply. but tall, thin, bald men with histories of vicious violence and sexual assault...
GP: What evidence is there of sexual assault here? Was there any evidence of sexual assault with the teacher?
JH: Are you calling me a paedophile?!?
RD: ...Tall, thin, bald sadists are fewer and further between, Mr. Paige, Mr. Halderman. That is why you are here. You fit the description, you fit the M.O.
JH: When was that taken?
RD: It's timestamped for...Friday 8th. At 7:32. Why, got an alibi?
JH: ...Well I was at home, having just got back from my old job, probably watching television.
RD: Anyone who can confirm this?
JH: No, I was alone.
RD: Well then...
JH: So, you've arrested me for murder and child abduction. I hope for the little boy's sake you haven't called off the search...
RD: Oh, don't you worry. We'll be doing everything we can to make sure you tell us where that boy is...
JH: I wouldn't kidnap that boy, you smug son of a bitch, I'm not a fucking paedophile! Now while it may be hard for you to get your head around this, I always liked kids, and I don't want to see another body turn up around here any more than you do.
RD: Oh, because you're a paragon for peace, aren't you? Louise Fisher's murder was a fucking display of sadism and mutilation, and here you are, fitting the description of her stalker and with a history of slitting up women!
JH: I've changed!
RD: You stuck a knife in a 17-year old girl after she tried to stop you raping her. You mutilated her arms, her chest, her genitals. People like that don't change. People like that only get worse!
GP: (slams hands against table) This interrogation is over, Richard!
(Pause)
RD: I'll take him to his cell.
GP: I'll come with you. Can't have something bad happening along the way, now, can we?
(Tape ends)
No real alibi, a history of violence, the right shape. As I said, I'll be sleeping better knowing "daddy"'s behind bars, though I hope they find Joey soon. I'm still holding out hope that nothing too bad's happened to him, poor kid.
Richard Duncan: Alright, Mr. Halderman, have a seat. This is Mr. North, he'll be your appointed lawyer for these preceedings.
(sounds of chairs scraping)
RD: Do you know who this boy is?
(sound of dry chuckling)
John Holderman: I've seen him in the paper. I hear you guys are having trouble finding the one who took him.
RD: Well that's the thing. We got this photograph of the one who did it.
(Sound of photo paper fluttering)
JH: Ahhhhh...picture's a little low-resolution to be just wheeling me in, isn't it?
RD: Tall, gangly, thin frame, bald, wearing a suit with a black tie. Almost exactly as we found you.
JH: I was on my way back from a job interview. What would you wear, shorts? That's not me. Besides, how'd you get a picture? Last I heard, the one who stole the kid did it without you seeing hide nor hair of him.
RD: This is from the schoolteacher murder, the first crime. She has dozens of pictures of you following her.
Barrister Geoff Paige: Chief Inspector, if you're going to be so casually accusing my client of murder and child abduction, I'd at least expect you to have better evidence than bad photos of a tall bald man.
RD: Tall bald men aren't in short supply. but tall, thin, bald men with histories of vicious violence and sexual assault...
GP: What evidence is there of sexual assault here? Was there any evidence of sexual assault with the teacher?
JH: Are you calling me a paedophile?!?
RD: ...Tall, thin, bald sadists are fewer and further between, Mr. Paige, Mr. Halderman. That is why you are here. You fit the description, you fit the M.O.
JH: When was that taken?
RD: It's timestamped for...Friday 8th. At 7:32. Why, got an alibi?
JH: ...Well I was at home, having just got back from my old job, probably watching television.
RD: Anyone who can confirm this?
JH: No, I was alone.
RD: Well then...
JH: So, you've arrested me for murder and child abduction. I hope for the little boy's sake you haven't called off the search...
RD: Oh, don't you worry. We'll be doing everything we can to make sure you tell us where that boy is...
JH: I wouldn't kidnap that boy, you smug son of a bitch, I'm not a fucking paedophile! Now while it may be hard for you to get your head around this, I always liked kids, and I don't want to see another body turn up around here any more than you do.
RD: Oh, because you're a paragon for peace, aren't you? Louise Fisher's murder was a fucking display of sadism and mutilation, and here you are, fitting the description of her stalker and with a history of slitting up women!
JH: I've changed!
RD: You stuck a knife in a 17-year old girl after she tried to stop you raping her. You mutilated her arms, her chest, her genitals. People like that don't change. People like that only get worse!
GP: (slams hands against table) This interrogation is over, Richard!
(Pause)
RD: I'll take him to his cell.
GP: I'll come with you. Can't have something bad happening along the way, now, can we?
(Tape ends)
No real alibi, a history of violence, the right shape. As I said, I'll be sleeping better knowing "daddy"'s behind bars, though I hope they find Joey soon. I'm still holding out hope that nothing too bad's happened to him, poor kid.
THEY CAUGHT HIM.
At least, they caught someone.
Just got a phone call from DCI. Duncan. John Halderman. 6'8, 143 pounds. Bald. Practically emaciated. Former sex offender - two violent rapes. No recorded interest in children, but hey, no-one's putting it past him. After a string of minor violent crimes, steadily escalating, he was arrested aged twenty for raping two teen girls at knifepoint and stabbing one of them through the hand when they tried to escape, before torturing her. Rape, kidnap, GBH, torture. Now 46. Got out of prison two years ago. Arrested in town after being on the suspect list for a while. Wearing a suit. I'm so excited right now. I don't care about all the weird shit around this whole thing, folks, it looks like this is all on one very tall, very thin, very violent man. If we're lucky, we'll even get Joey back.
Everything might not be going to shit!
EDIT: Duncan has promised he'll e-mail me a transcript of the interrogation. Either he's a little too enabling, or he really IS trying to sleep with me. I don't even think that's legal, but I'm not complaining. I'll put it up when it comes through.
At least, they caught someone.
Just got a phone call from DCI. Duncan. John Halderman. 6'8, 143 pounds. Bald. Practically emaciated. Former sex offender - two violent rapes. No recorded interest in children, but hey, no-one's putting it past him. After a string of minor violent crimes, steadily escalating, he was arrested aged twenty for raping two teen girls at knifepoint and stabbing one of them through the hand when they tried to escape, before torturing her. Rape, kidnap, GBH, torture. Now 46. Got out of prison two years ago. Arrested in town after being on the suspect list for a while. Wearing a suit. I'm so excited right now. I don't care about all the weird shit around this whole thing, folks, it looks like this is all on one very tall, very thin, very violent man. If we're lucky, we'll even get Joey back.
Everything might not be going to shit!
EDIT: Duncan has promised he'll e-mail me a transcript of the interrogation. Either he's a little too enabling, or he really IS trying to sleep with me. I don't even think that's legal, but I'm not complaining. I'll put it up when it comes through.
Recession
Joey's gone. No-one knows where. He disappeared on Sunday/Monday night. The police watching their house saw nothing, despite the fact that there should be no way for him to have gotten in. No alarms tripped. No glass broken. The security cameras around the house show nothing, except that at about 2:15, the video file becomes corrupted, framerate slows to a crawl, and picture quality plummets. After about thirty seconds, it goes to a short bit of video of Joey in bed from just before the distortion, playing on a loop. The only bit of image they can get is about five minutes into the file, of Joey, standing beside his bead, looking up at something in front of him. Whoever "Daddy" is, he got into that house at the centre of one of the biggest police cases in East Sussex history, despite the fact that it was being actively surveiled, took a kid, and left, and we only knew the next morning when his mother found his empty bed and started screaming.
What no-one can figure out, as I understand it, is how the camera got sabotaged. It's not attatched to any outside connection other than a police computer being hidden in a cupboard in the next room. It too is under video surveilance and no-one went near it the whole time.
Either way, the press is screaming blue bloody murder over this latest kidnapping, and considering this investigation had brought in police forces from all over East Sussex, the whole county's police forces have egg on their face. It's not common to read about this town in the national paper, you know, let alone when the entire county's best and brightest let the murder suspect they're hunting waltz into a house they're watching and steal a child they're protecting, before slipping away like he was never there. At the last I heard, the phones have been taken off the hook just to stop them ringing. DCI. Duncan's superior'll be resigning in disgrace, from what I hear. Good riddance. If they can't protect a seven year old child, every one of them should hand in their badges.
This has effectively halted my mental recovery from the last incident. I'm not sleeping. I can't bring myself to eat, I can't sit still. I find it hard to go outside. Everything's going to shit.
What no-one can figure out, as I understand it, is how the camera got sabotaged. It's not attatched to any outside connection other than a police computer being hidden in a cupboard in the next room. It too is under video surveilance and no-one went near it the whole time.
Either way, the press is screaming blue bloody murder over this latest kidnapping, and considering this investigation had brought in police forces from all over East Sussex, the whole county's police forces have egg on their face. It's not common to read about this town in the national paper, you know, let alone when the entire county's best and brightest let the murder suspect they're hunting waltz into a house they're watching and steal a child they're protecting, before slipping away like he was never there. At the last I heard, the phones have been taken off the hook just to stop them ringing. DCI. Duncan's superior'll be resigning in disgrace, from what I hear. Good riddance. If they can't protect a seven year old child, every one of them should hand in their badges.
This has effectively halted my mental recovery from the last incident. I'm not sleeping. I can't bring myself to eat, I can't sit still. I find it hard to go outside. Everything's going to shit.
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