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May 28th, 1998
Operator: 911, what's your emergency?
Woman (in hysterics): Oh my God... Oh my God!
Operator 911: Ma'am, I need you to stay calm and give me your location.
Woman: I'm at River Station Restaurant on Water St. I saw a figure throw a girl into a car! He's going to kill her! He's going to kill her!
Operator: Do you know what kind of car it was or a license plate number?
Woman: No... Oh my God....
Operator: Could you give a description of them?
Woman (crying): I couldn't tell. Oh God, please help her. Please help her.
Operator: Where were they?
Woman: The parking lot at the waterfront.
Operator: Can you tell me what direction they went?
Woman: Towards the arterial.
After calming down, she ended up going to the police station to give a full statement. She was jogging on Water St. from the boathouse towards the waterfront. It was a little rainy that day, so she couldn't clearly tell what was going on. But she noticed a figure wearing black throw my body into a dark-colored car in the parking lot at the waterfront. She couldn't tell what kind of car it was.
Her statement wasn't very helpful to the police considering they didn't prevent me from being killed.
Naveen was suspect #1 for them. However, this mysterious figure doesn't sound like him, but he does drive a black Honda Civic. Then there was Kyle. I recall he used a few different cars.
Kyle and I had met my freshman year, his senior year. We had known each other through mutual friends but were never that close. He always seemed guarded by a facade, afraid to let anyone see the real him. I know now that I never did.
He realized that he would be questioned since we had run into Rachel the afternoon he had picked me up. He told the police exactly what I remembered from that day: we hung out for awhile and he dropped me off to get ready for prom around 4:30 PM. He added that he stayed in his room all night and his parents backed up his alibi. The police weren't completely convinced by his statement.
I had been watching him for the past few weeks, attempting to scratch the surface of his mysterious exterior. I followed him to the parking lot of a shady bar in Pleasant Valley. He purchased something from a man, the contents hidden inside a paper bag. An image of the man stuck with me. He had the iciest blue eyes I had ever seen, his glare cutting like razor blades. I thought, how could Kyle not be afraid to interact with this guy let alone buy weed from him?
Afterward, Kyle went into an apartment in Poughkeepsie. A guy named Ross answered the door. He was very thin, wearing clothes two sizes too big and had severe acne and facial scarring. Amidst the garbage covering the apartment, I noticed a metal spoon, a belt, and a syringe on the coffee table in front of a dirty couch. At that moment, I realized what was actually in the paper bag.
Ross sat on the couch, chatting while sterilizing the needles. Kyle thumbed through his CD collection on the shelf next to the couch. Everything was so casual to them, but I just stood there, incredulous.
After selecting an album to listen to, Kyle sat down on the couch with Ross. He wrapped the belt around Kyle's bicep to expose his vein and flicked the area before injecting him. Kyle unwrapped the belt and sighed calmly before nestling at the end of the couch.
I left afterward.
Sure, Kyle had issues, maybe because his parents didn't pay much attention to him. I know he hung out with some disreputable characters, but I had no idea he was shooting up dope with them.
A month later, I was able to tap into Kyle's dream. He dreamt that he was on trial for my murder. The court decided that I took the bus to the library, where I met up with him then we drove to the waterfront where he suffocated me and brought my body to Bowdoin to dispose of the evidence. He was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison.
The bailiff hauled him away. His father, in shock and disbelief, attempted to console his wife as she wept, begging them not to lock her son away.
When Kyle realized I was standing in the back of the courtroom, he tried to scream my name but his voice was inaudible.
Kyle awoke, lying in bed beneath white sheets, clinging to his cold sweaty body. His was room dark and quiet with curtains drawn open, revealed a full moon.
I stood at the foot of his bed, curious as to why he had this dream.