The amount of stuff that happened to me in my 19th year is incredible, as you may have guessed reading my other stories. This event which was connected to a long series of events, was also in that year. I was living in a little apartment with my two gay roommates, supplying them both with meth in exchange for my rent. This story is during the same basic time period as ShadowMyth’s Chronicles: Pit Bulls & Bikers, and The Magically Appearing Hole.

My drug dealer lived in the apartment below me, and was working for the Mafia, as well as I later discovered was involved in a larger plot that was related to a government mind control program. He was selling drugs that were laced with a substance that made the mind more sensitive to mind control technologies. I was later to understand all local law enforcement, the FBI, and the mafia were involved in this plot, which it seems had something to do with the murder I was about to witness.

It was on a beautiful clear warm day that my friend A and I were walking across the bridge in town that was part of a stretch called The Miracle Mile. The bridge is quite lengthy, and as we walked we noticed two men standing right about center on the opposite side of the bridge. The two men were obviously talking, and as we were passing by them, I turned to say something to A. Her face suddenly went white, her mouth hung open, and she stopped, looking past me in horror. “What is wrong?” I asked her, but she was speechless, until finally she pointed behind me.

I turned to see that now there was only one man standing in the middle of the bridge, not two, and he was looking at us. I understood to some degree what was happening, and A and I hurriedly began walking again. We walked quickly, as she came to her senses and began to relay to me what she had witnessed. She told me that the remaining man standing on the bridge and pulled out a knife, stabbed the other guy, and pushed him over the side of the bridge.

I myself was quite horrified now, and realized that the killer was not going to just let us walk away. Sure enough, I looked back , and he was now on our side of the bridge, and quickly catching up. We hastened our pace, but of course, so did he. He caught up with us just as we were exiting the bridge. He began to question us, asking how we were doing, what we were up to, and asked if we had ‘seen’ anything unusual. We both claimed innocence, but he was not to be deterred.

The man, who obviously was a bit nuts, insisted that we come visit him at the motel he was staying at in town. Reluctant, we followed him to his temporary residence which was only a few blocks away. We sat in the motel, as he continued to ask us various questions, some of which were quite bizarre. He asked to see our teeth, asked us about our health, and was looking at us as if we were horses for sale. Another man arrived , his ‘business’ partner who was also staying in the sameĀ  motel. They discussed in some kind of code matters of personal business, and a lot of cash changed hands…they both seemed to be loaded.

The business partner left, and the murderer sat down in a chair to smoke a cigarette. As he smoked, somehow the cherry of his cigarette fell off, and landed onto his opposite arm. He reached down, and pushed the hot coal further into his arm, and moaned in pleasure, saying “Oh, that feels so good!” He obviously meant it from the expression on his face, as the smell of charred flesh filled the air. This was not good.

Hours went by, but he would not let us leave, and he continued his interrogations. Finally a break came, when it turned out that this man knew my drug dealer D quite well. As the puzzle began to come together, it turned out that this man was in town on a mafia job, and was also a white slave trader.

I cannot remember if we drove or walked, but we headed over to D’s place at this point. This was an enormous relief, and indicated we were probably going to get out of this situation alive. D was quite surprised to see us at his door accompanied by what was a fellow employee. A and I sat in the living room as the two men went into the back to have a talk. Evidently D had done a good job convincing the man that we were not a threat, and we were released from the killer’s custody. Unfortunately though the man still hung out here and there over the next couple days.

A, who had been a prostitute for the mafia and escaped a few years before, was terrified and disappeared from site. This left me alone to deal with the psycho. As soon as he began to lay off on the weird surveillance, I decided I could not trust the situation. I relayed the story to someone close to me, and they hooked me up with the local director of the FBI. Being a drug dealer as I was, and walking into the offices of the FBI did not look good. It was a small town, and I was taking quite a risk being seen.

I relayed my story to the director and someone beneath him, who had already spoken to the person who referred me. The director told me they had already scoured the river and banks along it and found no body, and obviously I was just another delusional drug addict. They asked if it really happened, then where was my other witness? I tried to explain to them the situation but they obviously were playing me. There was no way they had already scoured the river, this was all just a set up to appease me.

The funniest part came when they told me how they understood, and they they just wanted to ‘help’ me. They then offered to have the FBI pay for me to be admitted into the best drug rehab facility “money could buy”. I was incredulous, and quickly realized the depth of the situation I had gotten myself into. Right, it was just so common for the FBI to pay for a druggy to get high end rehab care (no pun intended). I of course turned their ‘generous offer’ down, and left.

I never again saw the killer after this, and the situation faded away, as if it had never happened. I was grateful at the time I had D as a friend and dealer, as I was sure I would have ended up as a white slave otherwise. It was shortly after this that the events in ShadowMyth’s Chronicles: Pit Bulls & Bikers would occur, and the story would continue on from there. Perhaps soon I will share the next chapter in this story, whereby jail, insanity, and a variety of interesting events were to follow.