A/N: Sorry I haven't been writing for a while. I've been completely in a NOT writing mood….

Thank you to all the people who've been reviewing both of my fic. My other one will be eventually taken away because it is a CHATROOM FIC! WAHHHHHHHHHH! It has a plot! Really truly!

The Gilmore Girls premiere was depressing…..

Hmmmm. I dunno, maybe I should start writing 4 Harry. I never thought about it. What makes me a Harry sort of person?

**********************************CHAPTER 8**********************************

September 26, 2002- G&T

Michael won't leave me alone. He keeps trying to talk to me. I don't want him to talk to me. I want him to go away. Lilly too. They keep bugging me, calling me, following me.

So NOW they pay attention to me…… Typical.

Later--Home

I had to stop in G&T because Lilly tried to look over my shoulder at what I was writing-

Me: What're you doing?!

Lilly: I'm trying to read your hanwriting.

Me: STOP IT!
Lilly: If you won't tell me why you're mad at me, I've gotta find out somehow!

Me: You know why I'm mad at you.

Michael: No we don't, Mia!

Me: I'm not talking to either of you, ESPECIALLY you (points to Michael).

Michael: (I noticed he had bloodshot eyes. The drama of being a STALKER must've finally caught up with him!) WhY ESpeCiallY mE?! (A/N: When I do the letters like that, his voice is cracking!)

Lilly: Why me at all?!

Me: La la la la la…. I can't hear you! La la la la la la…….....( I know. Mature just isn't my thing)

Lilly: Maaaturre. (I told you so!)

Michael: PleAse, MiA, wHy are you Mad at m-us?

Me: YOU BOTH KNOW, SO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The bell rang (it always rings at the most convenient times!) and I sprinted out of the room. Like always. I'm gonna break a leg 'sprinting out of the room' some day. Or more likely, someone elses.

Uh-oh. The door bell's ringing. Write later.

September 27, 2002- Morning, Lilly's place

OMG!!!!!

I AM SO CONFUSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay….. Deep breathes. INHALE! EXHALE! INHALE! EXHALE!

Okay. Alright. Okay. Alri-

I need to write.

So, I left off with the bell ringing.

Guess who was at the door?

WRONG!

I don't even know who was at the door.

He was wearing a black ski mask.

He jumped at me.

He was screaming something……

Something weird. I could barely hear it over the sound of my own screaming. Which was pretty loud. I've got good lungs, if I do say so myself.

But anyway.

He was screaming- "You made her cry! You made my goddess cry!"

I know what you're thinking. Somewhere along the lines of……WTF?!?!

Wait. Who exactly am I talking to here? I mean, if I read this when I'm older, I'll already know this stuff so I'd be thinking more along the lines of "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Been there done that bought that t-shirt," not WTF?!?!! Because the only person who would think WTF?!?!?! wouldn't be me and why would anybody but me be reading this, I mean it's completely impractical or unpractical or whatever and I don't like that thought at all, because I mean there is some pretty personal stuff going on in here, and I mean I totally wouldn't go for it to just GIVE it to someone to read, I mean maybe someone might read it after I DIE, like my great-great-grandkids or something because they want to know all about me or something, but I mean like, I wouldn't even be so comfortable with THAT, and I'd be, you know, DEAD, so why would I let someone read this when you know I'm like ALIVE and all that stuff? Whatever…..

Where was I? (Again to the great-great-grandkids, because no one else better be reading this)

So I was screaming, and the guy in the ski mask knocked me over, and then, all of a sudden- THUNK!

Ski Dude was sailing off me, and onto the floor. Michael had him straddled and was punching the living daylights out of him, though I guess they'd be dead daylight now because Michael was hitting Ski Dude pretty hard, and no daylight could survive that. But yeah.

I jumped to my feet and started running outside. I mean, what would you've done? Two stalkers beating on each other? Well, actually it was ONE stalker beating on the OTHER stalker dude. But still.

So I was running full-speed down the street, and I hear, "MIIIIIIIIIIA!"

And Michael was running after me.

He caught me, and, you know, Michael's pretty strong, so I couldn't make him let go of me.

He grabbed me by both arms and pushed me into a car. His car. I hadn't even noticed it was parked there.

He slammed the door and got in the drivers' seat and drove like a maniac all the way to his house. I was screaming my lungs out the whole time.

Now I'm in Lilly's room. Lilly's bed.

Lilly's somewhere else. Probably the kitchen with Michael.

Michael wouldn't answer any of my noncoherent or incoherent or whatever questions.

He just dragged me upstairs and pushed me into this room. I was still screaming. He locked the door.

I don't know what's going on. All I know is that my head and back are going to be one big purple bruise tomorrow. Or today, I guess.

It's lucky that I had my journal in my hand when I answered the door, and that I was so senseless it didn't occcur to me to drop it or something, because without it, I probably would still be screaming. And screaming. And screaming………………………….

A/N: Don't kill me! There might be a few surprises still up my sleeves! Well, I'm not wearing sleeves, but you know what I mean! I love Mikey as much as the next pathetic fan fiction author, so, please, I beg of you *SOB*, wait for the next chappy, chap! *SOB SOB*