Last month, my pal Reggie was sleeping over at my house. I’m 20 and he is too. He was bored in his little town in Colorado, so he flew out to New York to hang out with me in my apartment. He came down in the weekend so we could hang out and I didn’t have to work. On Sunday as I was grabbing my coffee, Reggie started talking nervously.
“Do you remember last night? Like, what you did last night?”
“No. I remember falling asleep and staying that way until I woke up.”
“I saw something different.” Reggie pulled his phone out and opened his photo app to a video. He handed me his phone and I watched the video. It was a video of me. In the video, I walked out of my room, over to my kitchen, grabbed something from a drawer, and walked out of the apartment. The video was recorded from my couch, where Reggie slept.
“Reggie why did you record this?”
“I heard you say something from your room, and a loud thud. I was scared something happened, so I got up, and I heard you walk over to your door. I jumped back on the couch and started recording.”
“Did you bring your camera?”
“Gabe, a photographer brings their camera everywhere. At least I do.”
“Ok. It records stuff right?”
“Can I keep it for tonight? And can you stay one more night just in case?”
I set up the camera that night and started to record. I fell asleep half and hour later.
When I woke up, I went right to the camera. The video showed me getting out of bed. Three hours passed. When I came back, I was dragging something in a trash bag. It had the outline of a person. It had a belt wrapped around where its neck would be. I threw the bag out of my seven story window, then fell asleep. I deleted the video, and went out to my living room. Reggie was watching TV. He looked over at me and smiled.
“Good morning Greg. You never sleep this late!” I looked at the clock and it was 12:00. I was late for work. Really late. I decided I’d call in sick. “My flight was cancelled today, so now I have a new flight for tomorrow,” Reggie continued.
“Ok. Got it,” I went outside for a smoke, and saw a puddle of dried blood. The bag was gone. I ran inside and looked at a news site on my phone. The headline shocked me.
Woman found dead in trash bag outside of apartment
I felt dizzy, and ran into my room. I poked my head out of my room and looked at Reggie. “I’m going to bed again! Goodnight! I mean good afternoon or whatever!” and slammed the door. I lied in my bed and I took a few sleeping pills. “Maybe I’ll stop thinking about it when I wake up,” I clicked the record button on the camera, and went to bed. I was woken up by banging on my door.
“We have reports of screaming! Open the door or we will use force!” my face felt wet and gross. Something was on my face. I grabbed it, and peeled it off. It was a face. Someone’s face. I looked over, and saw Reggie dead on the ground, his face skinned. The police kicked open the door and ran into my room. “What the f**k…” one of them muttered. He threw up, and the other officer handcuffed me. I was determined to be mentally ill, and am living the rest of my life in a mental hospital. I’m strapped down every night, so I can’t get up. God, please help me.