New arrivals

I've got in touch with a few people, a runner is going to stay with me for a while. I hope that one guy(?) was just a coincidence and not the sign of something larger, I'm in an apartment, not a fortress. If somebody wants in, they will get in. My best hope is to remain anonymous and not stand out. I hope she isn't followed, I just settled here last week, I can't move again. Not this soon.

I did it

I killed my first proxy today. It was all self defense, it happened so fast, I didn't know what I was doing until it was over. He(?) came roaring at me out of the dark as I was walking to my safe house, a rundown little apartment owned by a deceased runner. He(?) caught me square in the chest, full force, we both went down on the cold cement. I was flat on my back, he(?) was straddling me, arms raised up ready to strike, a knife glinting in the dim light cast by the street lamps. 

I managed to sock him(?) good in the solar plexus, sent him rolling off me. I tried to run, I really tried, but he(?) caught up, and fast. Knicked me pretty good too, I felt that little knife slide across a rib. Guess I tripped on a crack, we both went down again, felt my nose crack on the sidewalk. That knife skittered right up to my hand, I grabbed it and turned just as that proxy dove at me. I felt it sink into his(?) gut, I heard his(?) breath wheeze out as he rolled back and grabbed at his stomach. Blood was leaking between his(?) fingers, and he(?) just kinda lay there, rolling side to side and moaning every now and again. I couldn't just leave him(?) there like that. My conscience told me I was putting him(?) out of his misery by puncturing his(?) windpipe and slitting his jugular. My brain told me I was taking care of a liability, proxies are durable fuckers.

I don't know which side of me to believe.

In the dark

I've lived as a runner for a while now. Followed them, lived with them, moved where ever I could, any place that could be a safe harbor. Always hounded by those people. Cultists, I don't know. Disposable resources is more like it, I've the aftermath of that, bodies arranged in that special way, every single warning sign of It being near.  I've out lived every runner I've been with, I don't know why. There are always vague gaps of memory, followed by the death of yet another one. We're dying like animals, no hope for survival, cut down when we're near the brink.

I've only had the misfortune of running into it once, in some backwards neck of the woods last winter. Can't remember much of it, why I was there. All I've got is the lingering memory of a suit, and a driving pain, like something was burrowing through my skull. Next thing I remember, I'm running across as many state lines as possible. I do remember the date when I encountered it first, December 3rd. Next thing I knew, it was January and I was several states away. I lost an entire month of my time.

I'm tired of running.  I know I can't stop it, it's impossible. But maybe I can slow down its other means.