Witness

Yesterday was perhaps the worst day of my life. I actually didn't think I'd make it to today, the guilt was so intense. The rope is still hanging on the second floor, (yes I'm back at the house) and after this post I may just use it. I just don't know how else to cope with the pain; and the fear of what might come next.

So there I was, back in the courthouse talking about how Svend's been messing with my head, when he walks in the door. He was a wreck. Scraggly beard, hasn't showered in weeks, the whole hobo look. Thinking this was some pathetic act to earn sympathy from the jury, I started laying into him; yelling about how I'm going to put him away for the things he's done (I named them too), when the door opened again. A nurse walks in steadying a small girl with crutches. Svend apologized for his lateness, saying that he'd only just convinced the police that he really did have a relative with a terminal illness. And what did I do? Did I roll my eyes, did I sit down? No. I screamed at the girl to quit faking, so that Svend would get off. If only she had cried, or yelled back, or hobbled away, anything else. No, she toddled up and said: "Daddy's sorry he tried to steal your money Mister K. There wasn't no other way before Christmas." There was silence for about a minute, before the nurse told me that this girl, Jessica Svend, had a rare illness called Sutton's Disease, a condition that slowly degraded the bones until the body collapsed under its own weight. "She's not going to make it to New Year's without treatment." the nurse said. Yes, what Svend had done was wrong; but if you were in such a desperate position, what would you have chose to do? His wife had died two years earlier and he'd lost nearly every case up until he started defrauding people, what choice did he have? At least I had the decency to walk out of the courtroom after my shameful outbourst.

Oh, but I've only just begun. As I was leaving, the court officer pulled me aside and asked if I was sure that I'd seen Svend following me recently. I said that I was positive, but he only shook his head. Turns out Svend's been under house arrest since a week after I got the call he was being investigated (which is why he'd only just got back in contact with his daughter). Which begs the question: Who's been following me since then? I'd still swear it looked like Svend, down to the suit and everything. But it... but it wasn't. Even now, when I think about it, I get a little bit uneasy; like something's just... out of place. I can't really explain it; and that's really disturbing. I'm the kind of person who always has to have a reasonable explanation for everything, and last night... well... I've had to come to grips with the fact that some truly bizarre stuff has been happening around here. I've been slowly building Svend up into this mythical boogieman, an omnipotent tormentor who's been responsible for everything out of place in my life since I moved in here. And know that I've found out he's just a desperate man trying and failing to protect the only one he has left; I've discovered just how desperate I've become myself...

There's so much I haven't told you, world. There's so many things I've been running away from. No longer. I'm getting to the bottom of all this. This house is going to start talking to me, this house is going to yield every last one of its secrets. Its time I accepted the full share of my inheritance.
notimeforwalls
Its time I tell you about what happened in the attic.