As I was going up the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today. I wish, I wish he'd go away.
I didn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. But it was the only explanation we had.
Still, I couldn't help but hope to myself that it was all an illusion. That my blackouts were to blame for that weird dream, that maybe I was making it all up in my head. Maybe I was going crazy. Maybe this storm was driving me nuts.
All I knew was, one of us was a killer.
I can't pretend the thought didn't enter my mind, that I was responsible, that, in my blackouts, I was killing these people and then forgetting about it.
"Do
you remember the murders?" "I remember... that
Columbia is the captial of South Carolina."
And then there were only 6 of us left... and then only 3... and I started wondering what number the rest would find on me when they found me dead.
I guess I was number two.