And Who Is He To Say That I Am The Villain?

Part-one: Clear Across America

Claire Bennett: Odessa, Texas.

Thursday 12th.

So, I've decided. My real mother told me my Dad wouldn't want to see me, and when he came to see her, he agreed! That I hate. At least Dad- even if he lied to me, and had that guy take away Zach and my brother's memories- he actually cares. So what, if he told me that some other people were my real parents? It doesn't matter.

Still, I want to meet my Dad. I mean, I'm his daughter, could he really hate me that much? I'm lucky for what I have, I guess, but now that I know that my real Mom's a pyrotechnic, I wonder if my Dad can do anything like me…

I have to find him.

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Because of what I'd decided the day before, I went to see Zach as soon as I got to school. He was at his locker listening to music-what was unusual about that? I slammed the locker and he looked up with a smile, taking his headphones off.

"Hey," he greeted me quietly

"Hey,"

"Any reason for slamming my locker so loudly?" he asked

"Well, I could hardly slam it quietly now, could I?" he laughed.

"I suppose," I was glad he agreed. "You're here early, Claire. Did you come just to see me? Oh, I'm touched. What a sweet little crush you have!" he teased easily, mimicking my voice badly.

"Dream on," I told him, punching him in the stomach. He chuckled and nodded. "No, what I came to talk to you about was my dad."

"Which Dad?" he asked "The freaky, 'I'm a psycho and I'm going to protect my daughter at all costs, even if it means taking away her best friends memories' adoptive father? Or The one who you 'chucked a rock at his car' paternal father?" he asked.

"The rock and car one"

"Ah, I'm following. Do continue"

"This isn't a joke, Zach." He nodded, making his face serious.

"Yes, of course. Sorry." I laughed, he really could kill anything serious.

"I'm going to find him."

"Find him?" he asked "As in, go clear across the country to find a guy you chucked a rock at? Who just happens to be your Dad?"

"I knew he was my Dad when I chucked the rock" I sighed

"Such love in your family…" he shook his head "You don't even know where he lives, who he is, or anything! Anyway, are you going to apologise for the rock? Turn yourself into the police dude?" I rolled my eyes.

"I know I don't have anything to go on really, but I have to try. I know what he looks like, that's a start."

"How are you going to get there, Claire? Have you thought about that? When we went to see your mom I drove you." I smiled at him hopefully "You want me to drive you, don't you?" he asked flatly.

"Pleaseeeeeeeee, Zach?" I begged, grabbing his arm. He patted my shoulder sadly, and nodded.

"Go on then. I will"

"Zach! You're the best!" I wrapped my arms around him enthusiastically, and he hugged me back.

"Maybe I could get used to this," he chuckled. "Come on, trouble," he sighed as the bell rang. "Off to a day of slave labour." I nodded as we walked down the corridor, and away from the lockers to home room.

"Friday we'll be free." I told him,

"Yes. Now I'm looking forward to Friday. Bring it on!"

**

Peter Petrelli, New York City, New York.

Friday, 13th.

Simone and Isaac. I keep wondering about them. I know they were together for a long time before I even came on the scene, and I know Simone broke up with him and chose me. The thing is, I also know that the only reason she left him was because of the drugs. Now that Isaac's clean…well, maybe I'm not good enough. Oh, this so stupid. I'm most likely going to destroy New York and I'm worried about whether or not Simone and Isaac are shaking up? I really need to sort out my priorities.

At least I getting better at controlling my powers. A little. I still can't believe he PUSHED me off a building! I mean, it's lucky I have met Claire really. If it wasn't for that I'd surely be dead. Surely. Hardly, I would be dead. No two ways about it. Claire…poor girl. Save the cheerleader save the world? Who first said that? I can't remember anymore. At least she's safe for now…

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I was sitting absently in my apartment, and thinking when the phone rang. Looking up and hoping Nathan wasn't around to hear it, I walked over to the phone and picked it up off the cradle.

"Hello?" I queried into the receiver. There was so much static it was hard to understand the words at first. A cell? Or maybe they were quite a way away? Depending on the state it could cause quite a lot of static.

"Mr---" I listened carefully through the sound reminiscent of the candy wrappers Nathan and I used to rub against the mouth piece when talking to Dad when we were younger.

"Mr. Petrelli?" Suddenly I could hear the persons question and I supposed it must have been a bad cell connection.

"Yes. Speaking."
"Peter Petrelli?" they asked, it was a male voice that I vaguely recognised from somewhere, and they sounded frantic.

"Yes, At your service. Who's calling?"

"We met not long ago in Odessa, Texas. You saved my Daughter, Claire's life. This is Mr. Bennett." I was shocked to hear from the father of the cheerleader. Especially after I'd been wondering about how she was earlier on.

"Oh, Mister Bennett. Nice to hear from you. How can I help you?" I wasn't sure what the guy might want with me, but more worryingly- how had he got my number? This guy had a lot more up his sleeve than I had first given him credit for it would seem.

"It's about Claire."

"Sure, go ahead." I replied uncertainly, what could he possibly want me to tell him about Claire? I'd only met her a few times and the circumstances had been difficult.

"Have you heard from her, or seen her, Mr. Petrelli?" He asked urgently

"I'm afraid not, sir. Not since I was in Odessa. Why?" Claire's father let out a shaky breath.

"Claire's gone missing. I hoped that maybe she had gotten into contact with you-maybe wanted to talk to you about what happened. She hasn't been acting like herself since Jackie was killed." I nodded, even though he couldn't see me-he was in Texas after all. The story didn't seem likely, he was obviously trying to cover something up but I did believe that he though Claire might have wanted to talk to me. She had been so surprised when she found out I could take on powers that I suppose she would want to know more about people like her. Too bad I wasn't the best person to ask, but better than Nathan at least.

"I'm sorry, I haven't heard anything from her mister Bennett , but if I do I'll call you straight away."

"Thank-you, Mr. Petrelli." he reeled off his number to me and I noted it down, then after reassuring him, I rang off.

Maybe Claire wasn't as safe as I had thought…

**

Niki Sanders, Las Vegas, Nevada

Saturday 14th.

It's been terrible these last few weeks. Jessica's still trying to murder DL and I'm scared she's going to hurt Micah too. He's a smart boy, he can probably tell it's Jessica, and not me. The thing is, if he tells DL, he knows that things will go wrong again. I know he doesn't want me in a padded cell again and, quiet frankly, neither do I. Except, I've been stuck in the mirror this time-she's taken over. Maybe it's because I've lost my will to fight her, but I can't give up. I will not let her ruin my life again.

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I woke up that morning, a flutter of eyelashes and the sun on my face. I was at home, and more importantly, I was me. I wasn't in the mirror, I was in charge now. Again.

I sat up in bed, looking around me. DL wasn't there, a quick check of the clock on the bedside table told me that he would be at work by now. I smiled. It was a shame he wasn't there now that I was back again, but maybe it was better. I had been going over and over what I would do in my head. Now that I was myself again, I couldn't waste time with excitement. It was only a matter of time before Jessica woke up on the wrong side of the mirror and realised.

As quickly and as carefully as I could I showered and dressed, making sure not to look into any of the mirrors. I still wasn't sure how this worked, but I had the suspicion that she wouldn't notice until I did look in the mirror. And if I looked in the mirror, she would know what I was up to, and I would panic.

Tip-toeing into Micah's room I found him fast asleep in his bed. Tufts of dark hair barely visible from under the covers. I walked over to him and pulled back the duvet.

"Wake up, sleepy head" I told him softly. He stirred slightly, trying to pry the duvet back over his head, but I didn't let him.

"Mommy's back, Micah." He sat p in bed suddenly and smiled at me.

"Mom!" he flung his arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. "I knew it was Jessica, but I couldn't tell Dad-"

"I know, sweetheart. I know" I cooed, stroking his hair out of his eyes.

"Where did she go?" he asked me, conspiratorially. I shrugged-there was no point in lying to him and saying I knew.

"She's still here, but I'm going to beat her, baby. I promise you I will."

He looked at me with clear adoration

"I know, Mom. I always knew that." That couldn't help but make me smile. He was the sweetest child I could have asked for. Ruffling his hair I stood up again.
"Now, be a sweetheart for mommy and could you cover all the mirrors for me?" I asked him. He nodded simply. I think, deep down, he knew that Jessica could be seen in the mirror and that was where I had been trapped, because he didn't question my request at all. He simply nodded and set about covering any mirrors in sight.

After a few hours, we were sitting in the kitchen together talking. Micah didn't ask what had happened to me, he obviously understood that: firstly, I didn't know, and second, that I didn't want to talk about it.

"What are you going to do?" he asked me

"About what, Micah?" I knew what he was getting at, he knew my plan straight away.

"Where are you going to go, Mom?" I sighed, he did know.

"I don't know, baby. I really don't. But I can't let Jessica come back and hurt you or Daddy, can I?" he didn't like the idea of me leaving, you could see it in his face, but he also understood why.

"Jessica wants to kill Dad, doesn't she?" I nodded sadly.

"Yeah, Micah. She does."

**

Isaac Mendez, New York City, New York

Saturday 14th.

Simone. Sometimes I think she really might come back to me. Then, other times, I see the look in her eyes when she talks about Peter and I hate him. Although, he's some sort of a friend now, and I can't blame him for being in love with her-when she gets that look I do hate him. A little.

I know it's my fault for going on drugs, and I know that it's stupid to hold a grudge, but now that I'm clean I really thought she might. But no, and maybe it's better this way.

After all, she didn't really believe in me. Peter did though, he knew that my ability as a precog was real. That was what Eden called me: a precog, or precognitive. It's an odd thing to be called. I wonder what happened to Eden in the end…after she let me leave? Maybe, she got into trouble for it? I always wondered, but I think she was like me in some way. Had a power…I just couldn't figure out what.

Anyway, those two Japanese dudes keep phoning, I'm not sure what they want me to do right now, but as long as I keep drawing for them they know what to do next…it's strange though. We're obviously more connected than I first thought. Some how.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Standing in front of me was a large canvas. Not long before it had been completely blank. Now it was a rave of colour and the image that stared back at me…it was horrific. I couldn't let Simone see it, it would destroy her. We already know what's supposed to happen, but it would seem that someone plans to get there first.

The painting was larger than most, and I could tell that I had only just finished- unlike many other paintings which were a result of my ability. Scarlet paint was dripping off the ends like blood, pooling below the easel and slowly snaking across the floor to my feet. I gulped. Too much like blood for my liking.

I couldn't look anymore-the dripping cadmium red paint and the gruesome image become too much for my stomach. Simone could never see this. I ran from the studio to the bathroom.

When I returned, the painting didn't unsettle my stomach as much as before.

Peter's corpse lay at my feet. Simone sat in the corner, covered in blood-her body limp, her eyes blank and unstaring at the ceiling. The two Japanese men were impaled on spikes through the door, blood oozing from their fresh wounds, looks of astonishment and pain still visible after death.

A boy sat next to Peter, holding a stab wound to his gut. A man in police uniform lay nearby…his body in such a state of disrepair it would have been hard to identify the remains.

The painting was grotesque.

The only others unharmed aside from myself, was a girl crying next to the boy with the stab wound, a tall blonde women standing over the former cop and another man. His hair dark, face brooding, looking on at the scene with a certain admiration and pleasure. His clothes drenched in other's blood, a cruel smile playing across his lips.

"Isaac?" Simone called as she entered the studio, she walked in backwards carrying several packages in her arms and turned to me with a smile.

"Simone I-" I began, but her eyes had caught the splashes of colour and traveled up to the painting. The packages fell from her arms, and she paled in shock. One of the packages rolled onto the floor and across to me, soaking up the paint and turning the brown paper an acrid red.

"Peter-" she whispered. She stumbled down the stairs and looked at the painting, her eyes glazed over with pain. It was true, I was no longer anything to her. "When did you paint this?" she asked me suddenly. I was shocked but the severity of her tone, but I answered.
"Just now..."

"We have to call Peter. Get him over here. We can't let him die-" she stared at the other people for the first time, I felt sure she had noticed herself already though.
"And we have to help those other people." I nodded, it was all I could do-I couldn't say why I stood there, the only person without healing ability or a killer, unscathed. But she was correct. We had to save them.

She hadn't noticed the other painting in the corner. Or the painting inside the larger one. It wasn't long until this would be real.

**

Claire Bennett, Tucson, Arizona

Sunday 15th.

Zach got out the car when we got to Tucson. We'd traveled clear across Texas, then through New Mexico without stopping. Zach and I had left straight after school on Friday, the day before, and now we were there.

Luckily we'd smuggled our things to school on Friday in the morning, Zach had picked me up and Dad didn't find anything wrong with it. Apparently, we both don't remember so he's happy that we seem to be friends now. Of course-I always did, and Zach knows again but, what the hell, Dad doesn't know that.

We got to school early-I stashed my travel stuff in his locker along with his-being a cheerleader more people look in my locker and we weren't taking chances of people saying they'd noticed stuff in my locker the day I disappeared.

We were happy with our plan, and that night after school I went to cheerleading as normal-we made sure I turned down Zach in front of everyone by saying I had to go. That way everyone would think I wasn't with him, even if we were friends, and couldn't blame him afterwards. So, after cheerleading I walked home part way, met Zach at the water tower and we left Odessa behind.

We stopped at a diner on the outskirts of Texas that night, because no one wants to drive through the desert all night and without sleep.

Saturday morning we left, and here we are in Arizona on Sunday.

Zach walked around the car and opened my door.

"Stay in the car, okay?"

"Why?" he rolled his eyes.
"Because you'll probably be headline news by now-stay here. I'll get us breakfast and then we'll go into the city a little more." I nodded, he was right I suppose. I waited for ten minutes; watched him go to the counter, pay and wait for the food. A pretty redheaded waitress handed him the food in a take away container, then passed him two sneaky coffees with a smile. He nodded to her gratefully then came back out to the car. He climbed up into the cab, passing me the drinks and sat down.

"Look what I blagged!" he declared.

"She gave them to you-you didn't blag, Zach." He pouted

"Yeah, but still. Free coffee. I'm in heaven!" he took his coffee back, passing me my breakfast and took a large swig. "Ah, this is the life." he declared. I nodded mutely, and began to eat waffles.

We left after Zach had finished, I could eat while moving I didn't get ill on car journeys and we didn't want to hang around much longer.

No doubt dad had sent someone to find me-maybe the [Heasian] and this time he wouldn't be able to pretend.

"Are you scared, Claire?" he asked me about half an hour later. I looked up from my still warm coffee.

"About what?" I replied.

"Meeting your Dad? What your other dad will do, and what your real dad will do? About my being arrested?" I laughed.

"No. I just want to meet him. Slightly about dad though. You won't be arrested, Zach. I'll protect you," I said, patting his leg reassuringly "I promise."

"Cool. The cheerleader everyone's saving is going to save me. That makes me feel manly." I laughed, he put things in perspective in a good way.

"Ah, but you're a special case, Zach."

"Which is?" he asked,looking away from the road and scrutinising my expression.

"You're my best friend. I can't let you get hurt." I told him, his face fell slightly, but he smiled.

"Yes, the best friend always gets saved…" then he paused "actually, no, the best friend always gets killed. Claire!" He glared at me.

"Zach, this isn't X-men. You're not going to get killed." He opened his mouth then shut it again, a little peeved.

"I never said it was X-men"

"Admit you think Rogue is hot, Zach. You so do!" he blushed

"Why would I have a crush on a comic character?" he asked me seriously, I laughed.

"because she's a super heroes and has cool powers-and she wears a skimpy outfit." He stared at me for a long moment then looked back at the road.

"Why would I need that, when I have my own super hero?"

**

Niki Sanders, Las Vegas, Nevada

Saturday 14th

I sent Micah out to do some shopping, he knew I wouldn't be there when he got back, I think, but he did as I told him. He's a good boy. So, I packed my stuff, enough to last me for several weeks, and checked the houses for signs of Jessica and myself. There weren't many left. When DL got home, it would be as if neither of us had ever existed, and he'd be able to look after Micah.

I was standing in the living room, the curtains, I noticed, had thinned considerably and I wondered how long I had been stuck inside that mirror. Quite a time, months maybe? Probably not, more like weeks.

A heard a key turn in the door and I stood rigidly, hoping that it wasn't DL home early. If it was I knew that either, Jessica would take over and hurt him, or I wouldn't have the heart to leave. This was important-I had to go.

A small, smiling face showed itself around the living room door and I let out the breath I had been holding.

"Mom, you're still here!" Micah said happily, I nodded. He embraced me and passed the plastic bag he had been holding to me. Looking down at it I raised an eyebrow.

"What's this, sweetheart?"

"What you asked for, and some extra stuff you'll need, mom." I smiled, ruffled his hair and looked into the bag. My son was a genius. His ability had given me the means to survive.

I bend down to his eye level and kissed his forehead.

"I'm sorry I have to go, baby. Be good for your dad, okay?" he nodded weakly. " I'll come back if I can. I love you-remember that. I'll never stop loving you." I told him seriously, I hugged him for a long time, then, tears pricking behind my eyelids, I kissed the top of his head affectionately and left.

Where could I go?

**

Ando Masahashi , Salt Lake City, Utah

Wednesday 18th

I don't know how he talks me into these things.

Heroes…destiny…future…space/time continuum…star trek…

I hate my life.

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"Hiro!" I stared at the back of my friends head as he ran like an excited puppy ahead of me. Really, could he be the son of the man in charge of our company? It was laughable. He turned to me, jogging on the spot until I caught up. I refused to run, at least we weren't being chased by something this time.

"Ando-kun! Hurry!" he told me enthusiastically. I rolled my eyes.

"Hiro, how is this related to destiny?" I asked him, I was still obviously at a loss for the connection.

"It's very important." he told me, in his less than fluent English. I wondered why we were talking in English but, being in America it had become somewhat of a habit.

"Yes, apparently it is. But how?" I asked again.

"Waffles are delicious!"

"This is about waffles?" I asked, my voice becoming an uninterested monotone. If this was about waffles I didn't care. He nodded urgently.

"Waffles are on sale! Eto…hai?!

"No. Lie, Hiro-kun! Waffles are not important to destiny!"

"Well, superheroes need something to keep them going," he told me tartly.

Great, I thought. The guy who could stop time and possibly save the world was more interested in waffles. A hero may not need powers, but I think I'd have benefited from being able to stop time once in a while-to run away from the people Hiro usually made chase us.

Waffles?

Waffles were good though…

**

Hiro Nakamura, Albany, New York

Sunday 22nd

This is all very complicated. Somehow, I have to give them a back-up plan. These past few days have been difficult but I know what's going to happen. I'm just worried that the other heroes will not know what to do-how to stop them.

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I walked through Albany alone. I wasn't sure exactly when or where this would happen, but I needed to be as exact as possible. From what he had told me it was in the next street. There was plenty of time in case something went amiss. Hopefully, I would be able to stop all of his-before, well, before Peter.

I found the street name and followed it, it wasn't hard, it was easy to navigate-why he'd be here I don't know though. I closed my eyes and concentrated, just before I did, I saw him. He smiled at me. I vanished.

**

Sylar, Burns, Oregon

Tuesday 17th.

I hate Oregon. It's a disgusting place. There is no real motivation behind this feeling really, it is most likely a result of the individual I have just encountered.

I will never revisit this place-unless it is for something particularly enjoyable.

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I looked at my watch, perfect as usual and rang the bell.

The apartment building was shabby, the concrete greying with age and distastefully built, read to fall down really. The buzzer rang and I pulled the door open. I was wearing gloves anyway, so it didn't make a difference. I was quite glad of this, that door handle had god only knows what plastered all over it.

Vile.

I climbed the stairs at a leisurely pace, then when I reached the second landing, entered through another door. This one was painted a most horrible green colour, the paint itself was chipped and beneath it was an even more terrible bright yellow. No wonder they tried to paint over it. The glass was cracked and dusty, as was the floor, and I knocked on the third door down. Number fifty-five.

I heard a chain rattling on the other side of the door and key turned in the lock. From behind the door a young man looked out at me, obviously wary. I would have laughed, if only he knew that he should be very afraid. Even more afraid.

"Y-yes?" they asked, barely able to hide his pathetic terror.

"I'm Mister Sylar. We arranged to meet over the telephone," I told him with a wide smile " May I come in?" He trembled terribly, but managed to open the door fractionally enough so that I could slip inside the apartment.

He walked ahead of me, and into an eyesore of painted orange kitchen. Cracked tiles lined the walls half way up, and several were missing. He quickly moved to the sink and ran some water from the tap into a dirty glass. He drank it swiftly and then turned to me apologetically.

"W-would you like a drink?" I tried to hide my contempt, and shook my head.

"I'll have to politely decline-I just finished a drink with a friend before I came to see you." He nodded and then lead me to the sitting room.

"Erm…please take a seat," he told me, gesturing to several chairs in the room. I looked from one to the next. One was bright pink, it's stuffing spilling out of it's belly like an animals entrails, another was a wicker chair which seemed to be unraveling rather like a scarf might in a cartoon. The last two were a large green and worn sofa, the springs of which protruded though the leather, and the last being a small plastic stool which was slightly dented and painted like a zebra. I found something interesting about all of them. The first reminded me of death-which was always a good, safe thing. The second of the film the wicker man-cinematic horror at it's peak which was also always a good choice. The old sofa quite made me think of torture, although torturing myself I would be if I were to sit on it. The last simply made me entertain the thought of killing the man with it for his terrible taste. Were we still in the eighties?

I chose the pink gutted animal chair.

"Now, Mister Byrne, tell me about what you can do." I said, thinking how ironic it was he lived in somewhere called Burn…perhaps he moved there for that purpose?

"Well, you see," he began nervously, taking a seat in the wicker chair I was glad to note, so that if I did decide to use the zebra stool, I could. "Recently, when I'm in a hurry to go anywhere I just sort of…end up there…" he trailed off, I frowned.

"Teleportation?" I suggested, not exactly sure what power he might posses. For all I knew he might just have memory loss.

"No," he said determinedly, shaking his head. "Not like teleportation."

"Memory loss? " I replied, wondering if this was a waste of my time, angrily, the least someone could do if I was going to kill them was sit and give me something back!

"No!" he protested slightly angrily. I held up my hands-surrendering. Not something that happened often, but I at least wanted to know what I'd end up with after he died.

"What then?" I sighed "can you show me?" he nodded, uneasily.

He stood in the middle of the sitting room, began walking toward me, and then his form blurred. Within less time than it took me to blink-which I pride myself on being able to say was much fast than most people-he was next to me, then in the kitchen. It was amazing, not teleportation, but speed. I smiled.

"Incredible speed. How interesting…" I said, he nodded.

The Zebra stool floated into the air behind me. I grinned widely at him.

**

Claire Bennett, Twin Falls, Idaho

Sunday 15th

It wasn't until later when we reached Twin falls in Idaho that I was pleased.

"Where are we going, Claire?" Zach asked me, making me look up.

"Why not New York?" I told him with a grin.

"New York?! Claire! Do you know how far away New York Is?" I nodded

"Zach, I may be a cheerleader, but I'm not stupid. I do know how far New York is."

"Okay, Claire. We went in the opposite direction!" I shook my head.
"No, Zach. If we go clear across Idaho, into Wyoming -"

"Let me guess: Carry on straight through Nebraska into Iowa, and then Illinois…?" I nodded happily.

"Yeah, then Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania and into New York!" He sighed, putting his head in his hands

"Do you know how long that would take?" he asked me, seriously

"Well, we've managed five states since Friday-I think we're doing pretty well" he coughed.

"Claire, we drove ALL day at 90 mph. Do you wonder why we did so well on time? I'm running out of gas!" I shook my head, taking out my credit card

"Credit"

"The police can track it." he told me, I though about this then shrugged

"We'll be long gone, Zach."

"I suppose-plus, no one would be stupid enough to do what were doing. Aside from you, that is." He got back into the car angrily, and I followed.

**

Peter Petrelli, New York City, New York

Sunday 15th.

"Claire? Where are you?" I asked when she phoned me two days later.

"Twin falls, Idaho!?" I repeated angrily. "Why are you there?" I listened to her explanation and nodded. "Fair enough. Your Dad phoned me on Friday."

I assured her that I wouldn't tell him now that I knew she was safe, and listened to what she needed. I nodded.

"Plane tickets. Sure. I'll wire them to you. New York? You're coming here?"

I suddenly understood, she suspected her father of living in New York.

"Sure thing, Claire. Take care, you've got my address. When you get to New York come straight here-who knows what might attack you if you don't." She laughed and we said good-bye.

That had been interesting…

Simone knocked on the door a few minutes later, and I vanished. She opened the door and her face fell. I felt bad for hiding, but honestly it was better that way. My meddling brother couldn't put me away for my own good, and she could get on with her life.

She sighed, turning to the door and leaving again. I really had to get my locks changed…what with Simone, Nathan, The police and Mohinder constantly frequenting my apartment I was beginning to feel like a rat and a fugitive…neither of which I actually was…