I know I've been gone for a while, and I'm sorry for the long absence. Everything just hit me very hard, and life's been kind of... Well... Horrible.
As I said in my last post almost a month ago, Allen is dead. More specifically, he was murdered. The assailant has not yet been identified, but I know it was the guy I saw following me. He hasn't stopped, by the way, as I keep seeing him everywhere.And even though I haven't gotten any more bouquets since the 'incident', I'm pretty sure he's to blame for all the weird stuff going on around here, especially in the garden.
I should probably elaborate on all that.
Starting off, I obviously am no longer living at home, nor at Allen's house. I've moved in with a family member, and for both their and my safety, I don't want to say who, or where we are. Also, after the murder, the police finally started taking me seriously about the whole stalking thing, and I was put in police protection. However, that is no longer the case, as I'll explain soon.
Everything started the day of the murder, October 7th. I'd gotten a call from work, saying that I'd gotten this huge bouquet delivered to my desk, and some of the other workers were wondering about it, since I wasn't supposed to be coming in that day. I was freaked out, so I wanted to get Allen to drive me down there, but he wasn't anywhere around the house. I remember thinking it was strange, since he was supposed to be off work too, but I was trying not to freak myself out more than I already was. I think I rationalized it as he went to the gym or something stupid.
I didn't want to just leave the stupid bouquet there, so I went out for it myself.
It really was a lovely bouquet, but then again, all of them had been. It was overpoweringly red-- Roses, columbines, geraniums, carnations, amaryllis, all a strikingly blood-red hue. Love. Anxiety. Pride. Comfort. This one bouquet said quite a bit, but I didn't really understand why so much was necessary. Love was becoming usual for this guy, but why the others? The amaryllis, which mean pride, were probably the most prevalent in the arrangement, which totally puzzled me. What did he have to be proud of?
I found out soon, though, when I got home to a pair of uniforms waiting at my door. They told me they'd found a body, and that I'd need to identify it.
Of course, it was Allen. A hiker'd found him just outside of town, on a trail. He'd described the scene as 'beautiful, but horrifying'. Apparently, Allen was sprawled out rather unceremoniously amid a large patch of fumitory. Fumitory, of course, not being even close to indigenous to my region. And of course, it stands for hatred.
It made sense, then. It was almost like I could hear his voice in my head, speaking to me through the flowers. I did it for you, because I love you more than anything. I was nervous you wouldn't like me, and even if you don't, I'm still here. More now than ever, because now he's gone. Oh yes, I'm so proud of my work. He's finally out of the way, and now we can be together...
And that's not even the end of it. Since then, the garden outside the house has been changing. Unnaturally. I've been finding flowers growing that weren't there just days before, and some of them don't even grow in North America. As crazy as it sounds, it feels like this guy is manipulating the flowers to communicate how he's feeling to me. It started out with nothing but love and admiration, then slowly transitioned to need and impatience. I've been finding a lot of yellow balsam as of late.
And I still haven't even told you the worst of it! The police have been suspecting me of murdering Allen since last week! Apparently, since the officers that have been watching me haven't seen this guy, they think I made him up, so I could murder Allen and pin it on some invisible stalker. I guess they're not perusing it too much, though, since I haven't been called back for questioning since the last time. The bad thing about it is that they've taken all the cops that were protecting the house before off it, so I'm totally defenseless now...
And as for the whole 'stalking' thing... I do have a history with stalkers. Or, well, a stalker. It was a long time ago, but it was kind of a traumatic experience, and I don't really want to go into it if I don't have to.
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