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Sunday, October 18, 2009,

Chapter 7: Stupid. This guy makes me think I'm a genius.

I furrow my brows. I suppose Mr Evans will not be able to guess my emotions through my mask. It certainly is an amazement.

“I think I got the wrong house,” I say, ready to walk out.

“Is Mr Evans there? Got a package for him!” the mailman stumbles towards me with a huge box. I twitch.

This can’t be true right?

I’m a bloody deranged murderer, but this guy…he wins first place. I turn around, slowly.

He’ll be fun, I think.

I’ll just play around with him next time.

“Roses have thorns,” I say. I proceed to take my leave.

“It’s a clue for you.”

8:59 PM



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