Your Friend, Alex

Your Friend, Alex: Part 10

December 4th, 2034. Alright I'll admit it. I forgot. It's just that these last three years have been so busy that I couldn't possibly be expected to stay consistent and perform my ritual in January this year. Let's recap. Judith's story helped me immensely, and I spent the rest of 2031 writing what most would call my most mature film to date, "Mommy's Here." It was a drama about a woman who finds out she's pregnant after a nasty divorce and all of the sacrifices she makes to bring up her children, often going without for the sake of their happiness. Does anyone want to guess how it ends? Bingo. We find out off screen that she was abducted and never heard from again, illustrating the difficulty of life for the lower class in America, and how sometimes your best simply isn't enough. It's a heartbreaking film, and was critically acclaimed upon its release in November of 2032. Obviously, acclaim leads to wealth, and these days wealth only leads me to two places. Drugs and women. I spent most of 2033 in my LA home, doing blow, smoking hash, and fucking anything that moved. Honestly the months of January to March are a blur to me. It would seem however that I found time to write amidst all of the partying. Remember that mafia film I had started? Well Pesci had already died, De Niro fell next, and Pacino was on his way out. When De Niro passed, I busted out the old script, made some minor tweaks, and my fourth movie was born. "The Executioner", was a movie about a soldier in the fictional Margaretti crime family located in New York city during the 1960s. The movie followed him as the main enforcer for his family during that time, and the events that led to him having to kill off his own blood brother at the end of the film. Needless to say, the movie fucking tanked. In my defense, I was so coked out I can barely remember writing or directing it, and making it three and a half hours long probably had something to do with the hate I was receiving. I'd be crushed over it but Satanas keeps my bank account full, and I'm so rich that even if Warner dropped me I could fund my own indie films for the rest of my life and still make them look like they were filmed on a Hollywood backlot. Most of my days now are spent watching a variety of films, doing coke, and fucking my newest conquest Sydney. California born and raised, Sydney was 22 years old, and didn't mind fucking a 36 year old film producer if it meant she could spend his money. Luckily I had plenty of it. This girl had expensive fucking taste. Balenciaga, Nobu, any name brand you can think of, she wanted it and had to have it. And Lord did she fuckin' earn it. For the sake of time and frankly, my own embarrassment, let's not get into details. We met in a Starbucks funnily enough. I noticed her right away when I walked in, sitting in the far corner of the restaurant, typing away on her computer. I approached her and asked what she was working on when she told me she was taking a creative writing class and finishing up a short story. I offered to review her work, telling her I was a screenwriter and the rest is history. Recently, things have felt more transactional between us but I haven't been one for emotions ever since Julia. That was a betrayal I could never recover from. Nonetheless, Sydney is the woman I see most regularly and in recent weeks, the only woman I'm seeing. I can't help it. She's my favorite. I can tell she hates me. She's attached to her phone when we aren't having sex, only looking up when the word shopping leaves my lips, but I do have to admit, I enjoy her company. Having her in the room while I write is a comfort, and often helps inspire me. It's a shame really. Boy loves girl. Boy will never trust girl. Girl hates boy, but loves money. It just will never work in my favor. The only time Sydney shows any bit of care to me are when the nightmares return, and they've been consistent in recent weeks. I know it's been years, but every night in my dreams I hear the words of the old man. "Wake up, Alex." I see the pale blue eyes, smell the alcohol on his breath, and hear Satanas scream his insults before a white flash of light encapsulates my vision. Suddenly, I'm awake. Screaming. Drenched in sweat. Sydney is there with a hug and a kiss and rubs my back until I fall back into sleep. Other than that, you would think we don't even know each other. How can two people spend so much time together and know nothing about one another? It doesn't matter. The important thing is that we're well into December and I still haven't picked my targets for the third ritual. Sure, Sydney is a safe and obvious option, and she has plenty of friends to choose from. Not to mention her green eyes would make a fine addition to my collection. I just can't bring myself to do it. Funny right? A serial murderer who enjoys watching snuff films in his free time can't kill his unofficial girlfriend. It's pathetic. It's laughable. Still. I just can't do it. Tonight I told her to enjoy the apartment. I have a storage unit I can use for the ritual and at this point abduction is nothing new to me. I'm gonna have to do things the old fashioned way tonight. I kissed her forehead, glancing down at her phone as I did only to see her shopping online on Gucci's website. Typical. "I'll be out at a work dinner tonight for a few hours. I'll send a text when I'm on my way home." She grunted. Not an okay, not a that's fine but a grunt. A sound I interpreted as affirmative, though she probably never even realized I had spoken. Just recognizing that she had heard a sound and replying to it. Nice. I felt my waistband to make sure my Glock was still there, checked my pocket for my knife, and made sure I brought a mask in case I needed to take someone in public. After successfully completing my checklist I walked out the door, hopped in the Mustang, and sped off, not sure where I was going, but knowing that when I returned I would have fulfilled my promise. I lit a Leaf Line, inhaling deeply as I prepared myself for my third, and final though I didn't know it at the time, ritual. Here's to another 3 years of fame, wealth, and youthful fitness.