I could take this time to tell you lot about my current paranoid worries about whether or not I'm going batshit insane. But right now, I'm all alone, as far as I'm considered. I'm willing to trust Justin as long as I can. Hell, imaginary help is better than no help at all.

I'm going to make this post short, I don't have much time. Me and Justin talked. I told him about the cloaked man. He's naturally concerned.

If anyone, ANYONE who is currently reading this has any idea of what I can do, I'd love the advice.

Mental Block.

A case of writers block. It's something the mind conjures when they can't think of anything, or if the person has suffered a traumatic memory.

Where am I going with this?

The cloaked man.

He was never real.

He was a figment of my damaged psyche.

That's why no one else could see him. That's why I never recognized him. Because he was never real.

There are a few questions that have been plaguing my mind since I came to this revelation.

What DID attack me on that night? What did I see back at Justins house that was so bad, it had to fit something else in my head that ended up attacking me. And three...is this all real? Is JUSTIN real?

Or am I just insane?

He was never real

He was never Real

I'm insane

He was never there

HE WAS NEVER THERE.

There hasn't been a lot going on, I'm sad to say. Or grateful. something of the like. One of the two. I'm rambling right now. Point is, we've been using the past two weeks as a defense strategy. Only go out during the day, lock up and stake out at night. Stay around crowds. Basically it's what Zeke went through. Know what? We're fine as always.

Something did happen last night. It was my turn for the evening shift, so I was sitting there, looking out the boarded up window and fidding with my bad, when I saw the cloaked guy standing outside the house under a street lamp. I didn't want him to see I saw him, so I used the bat to poke Justin in the ribs a few times until he woke up. I wanted to see MY assailant. So I finally got him up, and got him to look.

He stared outside for a few minutes, directly under the street light, and didn't seem to react or anything. "What am I looking at?" He asked.

I looked at him like he was insane. "Dude, do you NOT see the massive dude wearing the hoodie standing out my house? That's the dude that attacked me."

"That's not funny man. Don't freak kme out like that."

"Are you kidding me? Why aren't you reacting, the guy is outside my house, he's a proxie!"

And what he said...I'm still trying to figure out.

"Dude...there's nothing out there. No one is out there."