Another Note from Joshua
Logan. Call me. You know my number.
As a note to everyone else: It is clear that Logan, wherever he is, still has access to the internet and this blog, or at least he does intermittently. For the sake of clarification, I’ll start every post of mine with “AUTHOR: JOSHUA,” and will go back and edit my previous ones as well.
Also, a quick update while I’m at it: I also feel like I owe you an explanation on what happened to Logan, or at least, as much as I know. When no one had heard from him for two weeks, I finally went over to his apartment, and what I found was… Interesting.
The key that he usually had hidden underneath a false rock in the garden wasn’t there, so after some convincing I got the super to let me in. The entire apartment seemed like it had been overturned, with two exceptions. The first was that the refrigerator seemed untouched, which I can only assume is because it’s so fucking heavy, and the second was his bedroom. The bed was off of its frame, books were thrown from shelves, there was a hole that appeared to have been punched into the wall; but his desk was immaculate. It was completely clean, aside from the notebook, laying dead center, a knife and a set of colored pens beside it.
And… that’s about it. We immediately called the police, who swooped in and inspected it. I haven’t heard of anything new other than that they couldn’t find a single fingerprint that didn’t belong to Logan or belonged to me and had been created when I entered. But that claim in itself makes me suspicious. There should be other fingerprints. He had people over all of the time. My fingerprints should be all over the place, not just where I touched when I went into his apartment that day. Our other friends’ fingerprints should be everywhere.
That’s all there was to it. He was gone without a trace, leaving only a wrecked apartment and that notebook in his wake.