XXXXXXX, 1991.

It's been around a week now. A week, hard to think that, huh? A week and all I've been doing is blaming myself and locking myself in this apartment.

I've just been waiting for those fuckers, thinking they might come. I've spent this time thinking, thinking about how I can't just sit here and wait.

I took up the offer I was given and packed my things, moving away from New York. I found an apartment in Miami, where I'll be living from now on. I signed that paper, and they sent me this latex mask.

I've been in Miami for two days, lovely place. I'd write more, but my phone is finally ringing.

The reason I'm here is calling me, and I'm answering.