I don’t know what happened. I don’t know where we are, or well, where the apartment is. I’m keeping these notes so someone, oh god I hope someone finds these and figures out what happened to us.
Nothing was off about last night. Little bit chilly, but that’s typical weather for February. Played video games with friends, my girlfriend and I went to bed, she kissed me goodnight, I rolled over and fell asleep. When we woke up, everything had changed.
It’s still dark out although according to the oven clock it’s nine thirty AM. But it’s more than just night dark. I can’t see outside. Not the road, not the parking lot, nothing. It’s just a black void.
Rose tested the front door, no matter what she does it’s not coming open. She’s currently working on the hinges, I wouldn’t have thought of that, she’s so smart. We have power. The house is a bit cold but nothing a warm jacket can’t fix, and we just got the week’s groceries last night, thank god I remembered to get the cat food. We should be able to hold out for a while.
The only way I’m measuring days is by sleeps, so this will probably be a little inaccurate. Nothing Rose did to the door worked. I even tried body slamming it a few times, I might as well have been running into the wall.
It’s the same with the windows. Rose went after them with a hammer and it might as well have been made of foam- the glass won’t break.
We’re having taco night to make ourselves feel better. Boots of course begged for scraps, damn cat, but Rose had made sure to gather up every little leftover and stuff it into the fridge. We have to think ahead, she told me. We could be here for a while.
I wish I could call my mom. No phone reception of course, it was one of the first things we tried.
Trying not to think about food. Trying.
One of my main passions in life is food. I love cooking, baking, if it involves making something delicious I am all over it. I’m pretty good at it too I think. I can make things happen in the kitchen.
Right now though Rose is all about conservation. ‘We eat too much,’ she tells me, ‘and we could starve to death before either help comes or we get out of here’.
Starving to death. Ugh. I’d rather not.
My mom’s has to reported us missing by now. Rose hasn’t gone to work, I haven’t gone to classes or called her and I try to do that at least once a week if not twice. Will she call the cops? Or will she come to the apartment herself?
Rose and I have debated if we’re actually in our apartment or if it’s just a replica. I mean, all my books are here. The napkin I left on the coffee table was there when we left our room that first day. Even had the same smudges on it, least I think so.
I miss Netflix. Talk about a first world problem. I also miss being able to throw the cat litter in the dumpster outside. We’ve settled for flushing what we can in the toilet and storing the rest in a tub in the other room, but god, it’s starting to reek.
We’re getting down down to pasta and ramen I had leftover from finals a few months back. Least it never really goes bad.
Milk’s gone off though. I see Rose in the kitchen taking note of all the food we still have. Like she thinks I’m going to sneak a late night snack. I only did that on day three of this madness, and I took one cookie! Jesus, I’m not going to risk our safety over cravings. Not like I can, anyway, we had the last of the cookies a few days ago.
I’m getting crabby. Snapped at Rose at least twice and I think it’s only the morning. All there is to do is sleep, read, or watch one of the few movies we have. Of course there’s no internet so like I said earlier, no Netflix, but we have a few DVDs lying around. But doing it for nearly two weeks straight is making me want to pull my own hair out.
I might be a homebody, but there’s the little things. Like being able to go out to empty the fucking cat litter. Or having coffee at Starbucks with a few friends.
I miss that so much.
Rose brought up that we’re not getting many diverse nutrients in our systems. I know. I know better than her that we’re not getting any nutrients. All we got is pasta and ramen. Which, by the way, I will never eat again after this is over. I thought I got sick of ramen during finals. Eating it for 2/3 meals a day and having pasta with only salt on it for the other third meal is making me actually sick.
Boots still has plenty of cat food though… I’m getting pretty desperate if I’m thinking about eating cat food.
Day Twenty One
We’re down to one meal a day. I hate it. I hate it so fucking much. Rose is going nuts, we have enough pasta for at least three more days, but she’s wanting me to be miserable!
… No, that’s not fair to her. I feel bad for Boots. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. I’m cuddling with him more often than I’m cuddling with Rose.
I’m gonna try and drink a lot of water, maybe that’ll fill me up. That’s the one thing we have plenty of.
Day Twenty Five
I nearly slapped Rose.
We’ve been trapped nearly a month, food supplies are running dry and it’s clear we’re suffering. My stomach is always growling.
But I’m not an animal. I would rather die than
Shit where’s Boots
Day Twenty Seven
Rose is a selfish cunt. Once we’re out of here, our relationship is over. I’m just as hungry as she is… well, was. She’s probably feeling pretty good now.
I’m just cuddling with one of Boots’ toy mice now. I miss him so much. She told me he didn’t suffer, she did it quick, but it doesn’t matter. He was the only reason I wanted to be alive, and now he’s gone. And I still smell the frying of meat.
The sick part is, my stomach is growling. I’m so hungry. But I refuse. I’m not an animal. Rose might be, but I will die before I eat my fucking cat.
Ramen is now gone. So is Boots. Pasta is about gone. I’m eating pickles out of the jar with nothing else. Even those are running out though.
Rose is different. She’s more quiet. More contemplative. She’s keeping track of our food stores down the single grain of flour. We’re not talking, no shit, but it’s more than that. She always keeps track of where I am during the day. She looks at me like she wants to say something, but doesn’t.
I’m getting a little scared of her.
Day Thirty One
I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up so hard
Day Thirty Two
What happened yesterday was not. my. Fault.
Rose came at ME with the knife. I had every right to defend myself. It’s not my fault she’s dead. I’m a big guy, I might be half starved but I’m still a lot bigger than her. It was an accident. I take no blame for it.
I’m not going to let this opportunity slip by though. I have a better chance of making it through this now that she’s gone.
Day Thirty Three
Tacos for dinner, I can have all the tacos I want.
They’re tasty. Soso tasty compared to what crap i’ve been eating for weeks.
Rose tacos are yum.
Leon Schatz was found around four AM wandering his neighborhood in presumably shock, covered in blood. Investigating his apartment found the remains of his pet cat and his girlfriend, Rose McNeil. The journal confirms he did kill Rose and he confessed. He’ll likely go for the insanity plea and it just might stick. According to a journal he kept, he’s been trapped in his apartment for over a month, but last night is when the couple was last heard from, when Leon was playing an online game with witnesses Jake and Reed Foster.