Hello again, everyone.
I've had more time to write than yesterday. Sorry about the length. I'm trying to catch up to the present as quickly as possible but also include enough detail so you can see how thorough David was being.
I'll resume where I left off.
While I was still trying to resolve the credit disputes with those companies, my car's windows started getting smashed. The first time, it was parked on the street in front of my apartment. I woke up one morning to find the driver's window smashed and my car raided. My car was just a crappy Honda Civic, and I didn't ever keep anything expensive in there, but they snatched my stereo, which was shitty anyway, and all the spare change in the car. Desperate much?
I got my window repaired that day and decided to set aside some cash to buy a really nice stereo now that I had an excuse.
The next morning, the same window was smashed again. Again, I had parked it in front of my apartment. I got that repaired reluctantly, and started to park in the underground parking for the apartment complex. See, no one likes the underground parking because the lines are painted too close so it's not uncommon for your car to get scratched up down there. I decided it was better than a smashed window, so I fought for a spot that evening.
I know you're going to ask why I didn't call the police. Mistakes, that's why. We all make them. You have the wisdom that comes with knowing the whole story. I didn't.
Glass was all over around my car when I went down the next morning. It wasn't just the driver's window that was damaged. The front windshield and back windshield were deeply cracked. I spent some time looking at every car in the garage. No one else had so much as a scratch on their windows. What the hell? If some random asshole was out breaking windows, he was targeting me.
I noticed the note after I'd gotten into the car. It was a sticky note folded up and slipped into the ignition key hole. I opened it. "You have to increase your minimum required effort." It said. The phrasing was intentional. David WANTED me to know it was him. And when I saw that phrase, I remembered our conversation.
That. Fucker.
I went into a total rage and drove out of the parking lot, trying my best to drive with the cracked windshield. I still remembered how to get to David's house, and I ran a red light or two to get there.
Parking in front of his house, I slammed the door shut and marched to the front door. I held the doorbell for much longer than necessary. I tried to breathe and remain calm. David won't help me if I show up shouting and yelling.
His mom answered after a few minutes. David's parents had held off on having a child until they were much older. As a result, David's mom was already 75 even though David was only 23.
"Hello?" She said, opening the door. Then she saw who it was. "Oh, Zander! How nice of you to come over! I haven't seen you in weeks!"
"Yeah, it's been... well it's been almost a year," I sighed. "Mrs. K, is David home?"
"No, sorry dear. He's at work right now."
"Oh, okay I'll go and catch him at the theater," I said, backpedalling towards my car.
"No, no, he doesn't work there anymore."
"He got fired?" I asked.
"No, he quit. Not long after you did. He became a security guard somewhere, he never mentioned where."
"I'll call him then," I said.
"He dropped his phone a few weeks ago and got a new one," she said. "Let me give you the new number." She walked back inside for a minute, and I waited on the porch. She came back with her old flip phone and opened it.
YOU ARE READING
I Dare You To Read This Book.
Paranormalnecontains short and long stories from different sites. Stories are not mine otherwise stated. All credit goes to respective owners. Enjoy!