Concerning the Young Man in the Woods...

Chapter 1

In Which the Story Begins, of course

March 22

I still can’t really get over how much fun everyone had yesterday! As you know, journal, yesterday was my golden birthday, and my friends surprised me with tickets to a show, dinner reservations, and enough cash to help me to survive the year off of something other than ramen noodles! I kid about the ramen noodles, of course but, they know how stingy I get so, the extra bit of money was probably a hint to splurge once in awhile.

Still though, the point is, I appreciate it, and…well...maybe they’re right. I need to learn to relax…maybe it’s just a bit of student anxiety? Well, I heard that a little bit of student anxiety was a good thing! Either way though, I still need to learn how to chill out…especially after that rather…interesting breakdown I had last week…

That said, I’ll start trying to let life flow a little better tomorrow. I think I’ll start small, and then work my way up to being able to “balance my aura” (according to Florina…that new-age hippie girl…it’s a miracle she still has work!). To think of it, I’ll go for a walk tomorrow. I know that there’s a nice little walk-way in the forest somewhere around here; I’ll find that and drive on over, take a walk, clear my head, embrace nature…you know, I’m tired, and repeating myself so, with that, goodnight, journal.

. . .

March 23

I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, I was wrong! I’m shaking, I am freaking shaking right now! I...I just can’t believe what…no…no, no, no, no, no, oh, God, I hope he’s alright, I’d hate to have him just flat-out die…

Okay…I’ve calmed down…a bit. Allow me to explain, journal, as you are probably very confused right now. Well, as you recall, journal, yesterday, I said that I was going to take a walk on the forest path, to relax. Well, I’m really relaxed now! Anyway, I had found the path, yeah, nice little stretch of dirt and rock, lots of trees, of course, it was calming. Eventually, I noticed that there was a smaller stretch of land that was heading up-hill and, curious to how the view looked, I decided to follow it. The view was not that good, too many trees but, that’s not the point.

On the top of that hill, was a house; it looked old, that’s for sure but, I couldn’t really pin-point what architectural era it was, saying as writers are not architects. I immediately assumed that it was private property, judging by the locked gate surrounding it, and was about to leave but, something very specific caught my eye. There was blood on the frickin’ door! And, I swear, it was fresh! I nearly ran off screaming from that but, I stayed…and it got worse. From there, I noticed that the blood formed into unsteady footprints, and…and…oh man…the trail led back into the forest.

So, like a complete idiot, I followed the trail (I swear, one of these days, my curiosity is going to get me killed). And, what I found caused me to unleash a scream that would’ve put the heroines of horror movies to shame. Let me tell you, journal, I was terrified. I mean…I mean…I mean…oh, God…

Anyway, in the clearing, was a body, a young man in a military uniform, which, mind you, was absolutely covered in blood! Now, I can take blood, but, not that much, dammit! I’m sorry, I don’t usually curse but…but…oh, God, it scared, no, terrified, no, horrified, no...really, really freaked me out! And that’s the understatement of the century! Anyway, I thought he was dead…until I saw him move. Needless to say, I screamed even louder (if that was even possible), even though it was just a slight movement, and he was still unconscious and probably heading into the light at the time. So, I did the logical thing- I called for help. Of course, they weren’t going to get there in time so, I took the stupid route. I literally, dragged him over to my car, tossed him into the back seat, and drove like a mad-woman to the hospital, where I am now.

Someone has been called to try and take me home, saying as I’m probably too traumatized to drive. My hands are still shaking…ugh…there was just so much blood…I don’t even know the guy but…but…I really don’t want him to die…that’d be horrible…I don’t even know what happened but…it’s natural to care, isn’t it? Isn’t it natural to worry about someone in peril, even if you haven’t met them? I…why…I just hope he’s alright…

. . .

March 27

I’m happy to say that I am finally allowed to visit the poor guy (after going through miles of red tape, that is); the doctors are letting me in tomorrow. Of course, I pestered the doctors about what had happened and what his condition was, since I had them talking already. What I found out was…interesting...

They stated that they found stab wounds but, from no identifiable source; he had a knife of sorts on him at the time but, the blood didn’t match up, so, it wasn’t self-inflicted, they presume. They also found an old journal on him but, it’s written in another language that they can’t seem to identify at all. As for the uniform, experts have confirmed that it’s an old Italian military uniform, dating back to WWII. However, what he was doing with it and why is anyone’s guess by now.
They’re trying but, things just don’t seem to match up, and, of course, it’s worrying them. The only thing that’s worse is that he doesn’t seem to be responding to anyone at all (a very bad sign, according to the doctors and, anyone with a lick of common sense) so, I don’t think I’m going to fare much better, to be perfectly honest. The only thing he’s told them is that his name is Feliciano Vargas and, honestly, that is not at all much to go on.

I told some close friends and family about the ordeal, and, needless to say, they’re concerned. My mother is especially worried, warning me about the “psychopathic murderer” I might’ve saved. I keep trying to tell her that it’s a pretty big stretch of imagination but…well…there was blood on the knife that wasn’t his, and…hm…

Of course, Florina, new-age hippie she may be, seemed to take legitimate, serious interest in this case. She keeps asking me to let her come and visit tomorrow. Normally, I would refuse but, judging by what I’ve heard and, factoring in that she is a psychologist of sorts…I agreed. Still not sure if that was a completely good idea but, like I said before, she probably has some idea of what might be going on, and, for that matter, the doctors agreed too so, perhaps it’ll work out. BUT, I swear, if she starts spouting off random nonsense, I…I…I don’t know what I’ll do but, I’ll do something!

Ugh…either way, I’m not exactly sure how this is going to go over but, hope for the best, expect the worst, you know? Hopefully, it’ll go well but, that depends on…well…a lot of things, actually…

. . .

March 28

First off, journal, I need to speak indirectly to somebody.

Florina, I really, really hate you right now. Not because of your weird personality. Not because of the fact that you nigh-constantly spout ridiculous conspiracy theories. Not even because of the strange, strange fact that you can somehow be that weird while still keeping your job! No, I am hating you at the moment because, somehow, you have landed me with the stiff in the hospital!

Alright, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, journal, allow me to clarify.

Like I said yesterday, I was finally able to visit Feliciano in the hospital, and Florina managed to be allowed to come along too…somehow. Anyway, I went ahead and drove us over, talked to the lady at the counter, the usual stuff, and we made it up to visit him. And, may I say, great God! He looked awful!

I mean, not just standard hospital-patient-getting-over-something awful, but, I’ve-just-had-the-life-sucked-out-of-me awful. I couldn’t help but be taken aback by his appearance, especially his eyes. Gah…they just looked so empty, journal! Like there had once been an actual person there but, he just up and left! But, I’m getting away from the point.

Anyway, while I stood there like an idiot, Florina calmly sat down in a nearby chair and started polite conversation, saying things like “You are very lucky that Agatha found you when she did” and “could you please tell us more about yourself?” I often forget how eloquent Florina can be when she tries. Maybe she’s just pretending to be a ditz so that she can take over the world while we aren’t looking…

After my initial shock (admitted, I was never good with hospitals…or patients in hospitals, for that matter), I sat next to Florina, trying to help her out in getting him to talk; saying things like “Where are you from?” and “Are you feeling alright?”. Real fast, Journal, would it be better for you if I described his appearance? Sorry, but, I have a feeling that it will be easier to visualize the event that way.

He didn’t look at all very muscular, more like a runner, if you’d ask me. From the obvious loss of blood, he looked very pale; a factor that didn’t help how sickly and weak he looked at the moment. His hair was a sort of auburn-y shade, messy, with a curl sticking out stubbornly from the left side of his head. As I mentioned earlier, his eyes looked empty, tired, almost life-less; I imagined that their amber-y shade must’ve been very bright and warm once, probably before whatever happened to him. Overall, he seemed to be the shell of a person, not exactly there but, just…existing…like he didn’t want to be there but, he was and he had to be. “Wounded: it will never heal”, if you will. It’s a bit hard to explain, to be perfectly honest, Journal.

Moving on though, like the doctors had said earlier, he was not responding at all. That is, before he turned to the both of us and asked “Which one of you found me again?” Needless to say, it surprised us both but, we charted it up to simple luck and left it at that. There was nothing special about us in particular, save the fact that Florina was a psychologist and I was the one who practically saved his life so…well, we were special in a normal way, anyhow but, nothing truly specific. Florina, being the more outright of the two of us, quickly responded “Agatha did.” Whilst pointing toward me.

He turned to me “I see…did you take my necklace?” he asked quietly, his voice barely there.

That confused the both of us “What necklace?” I asked “I wasn’t exactly looking very close at the time, saying as you were bleeding to death” I added mentally, knowing that it was a very bad idea to say such rude things to someone who had obviously undergone some sort of traumatic event.

Now, Journal, I know what you’re thinking, “why in the world would he be asking about a necklace?!” but, to be perfectly honest, I have no clue. All I know is that, apparently, it’s quite important to him, and, after Florina smoothly asked what it looked like, he described it in loving detail. From what he told us, it was a gift from a close friend, silver chain, iron cross with an inscription on the back reading “Stark Bleiben, Lacheln” (and, no, Journal, I don’t know what that means, it’s German, apparently), antique…wonder where the friend got it…and where said friend is…

Come to think of it, why didn’t he just call up a friend the moment he was well-enough to do so? He said something about them “not being able to come” but, I seriously doubt that they’d just leave him out in the dust like that! But, I’m losing the point.

Anyway, he seemed to become a bit worried when I said that I hadn’t seen it and that the doctors probably took it off him; can’t say I blamed him though. I’d hate for somebody I didn’t know to take something from me without my knowing…especially if I was injured before-hand…

Still though, after a few more awkward minutes of silence, Florina spoke up again, asking “Do you have any relatives near here?” he shook his head “well then” she continued “You need a place to stay, right? I mean, the hospital won’t let you stay here forever so…hm…do you have any idea what you’ll do once you get out?” again, another shake of the head. Florina smiled “Don’t worry, I promise, I’ll help you figure this out, alright?”

I seriously doubt that statement

But, that seemed to perk him up at least a little bit “you really don’t need to do that…” he said, slightly louder. By then, I noticed that his voice had the slightest tinge of an accent. English wasn’t his first language but, he’d been here long enough to speak it perfectly. At least, that’s what I gathered…

Florina, being…Florina, pushed this statement though “Yes, I do! Trust me on this one, you’ll be just fine; I’ve never let anybody down when I make a promise!”

…well, that was pretty darn close to the truth…

This was quickly followed by a few minutes of the two going back and forth and back and forth about the topic; Florina fiercely defending her point and Feliciano just attempting to try and get her to back off. Needless to say, Journal, Florina won.
Nothing much happened after that, just simple attempts at conversation, all of which failed, save one; which, concerned the weather (“lovely weather we’re having” “…yeah…” “…” “…” “cloudy…” “m-hm…”). So, when the time came for us to leave, we just said simple goodbyes and well, left. However, unlike the original plan, which was to leave immediately after the visit, Florina told me to sit and wait for her, adding that she had to ask the doctors something.

After about an hour of boredom and wondering just what she was doing (unlike most people would want you to believe, soap operas are actually very rarely engaging, and the reason they need an entire magazine to explain them baffles me), Florina finally returned, smiling like an idiot and holding several papers. “I need you to sign a few things” she said cheerfully, handing me the stack and a pen. I was about to ask what they were and why she wanted me to sign them but, Florina read me like a book and simply said “they’re just to assure that you’re a safe, stable individual~”

So, knowing that arguing with Florina was a futile attempt at best, I signed them. Oh, God, what was I thinking?! After I signed the mysterious papers, she rushed back in the direction she came, and I was left waiting for, who would’ve guessed, another hour. By that point, I was getting very annoyed with Florina. So, when she came out a second time, a wide smile on her face, I immediately asked “What was that about?”

She simply patted me on the head (her standing on her tip-toes to do so of course), saying “Silly, AJ, let’s talk about this over a good cup of coco and some cookies, okay?”
Now, Journal, by now, you probably know that “coco and cookies” is Florina code for “You are going to be so mad at me when I tell you this thing so I want you to be happy before I tell you”.

Well, I know that too but…it still works…

I followed her out to a nearby café, we ordered two hot chocolates, two of those big chocolate chip cookies, and sat down. After a few moments of munching on the sweets and sipping coco, she broke the news to me “Okay so, I’ve got great news for you!” Florina said, trying to keep a cheerful demeanor while delivering this obviously not-great news.

“What?” I asked, trying to down my food before she dropped whatever bomb she was carrying, if you will.

“Feliciano’s gonna be your tenet~!”

I was calm…okay, Journal…that’s a lie.

“WHAT?!” was my response, causing just about every head in the building to turn towards us for a moment before going back to whatever they were doing before.

“Calm down, AJ, let me explain” she said simply.

“You. Better” I responded, teeth gritted.

And, true to her word, she did. To make a long story short, Florina told me that she felt that Feliciano needed some sort of psychological help and that, out of the goodness of her heart, she would provide the service. HOWEVER, he still needed a place to stay and, while she would’ve let him stay with her, Florina, being Florina, naturally had a house that was both way too small and way too messy for anyone to even think about moving in with her (I pity the day she gets a steady boy-friend or whatever people do these days…I swear, sometimes I talk like I’m older than I am…they were right when they said I’m too high-strung…). So, she went with the next best alternative. Now, you know, Journal, that my house is both a nice size and near-obsessively cleaned; this has not worked to my benefit at the moment. So, Florina told the doctors and stuff that I would be more than happy to take in a tenet (saying as I have that empty guest room, it’s not too hard to see where she came up with this idea).

From there, she had to get the papers and jump through hoops to ensure that the process took as little time as possible. Of course, I was not happy that she just quickly threw me into this (since I just barely know the guy) and it took her awhile to calm me down. After that though, I agreed to it, knowing that it was hopeless to argue now that everything was pretty much already set up.

So, here I am now, Journal; preparing a guest room for a guy I met in the forest, covered in blood, who has a high probability of being a murderer of sorts. I feel really safe. Gah…anyway, to close out this lengthy entry, screw you, Florina, and God help me.