Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

28th June, 2022. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything but that has been because of how well I’ve been doing. It feels awful to even think about it like that - given how much my neighbours have been suffering in the past month. With all the murders…

Mom called today and she asked me to move away from this neighbourhood. She says its not worth it anymore. Sure, this house is amazing - literally my dream come true - but risking my life seems extreme. But I’m not in danger. I come home before dark everyday. And the police have already informed us that the killer seems to mark the front door of the house of all his victims with a giant X so far. So, I will make sure to run as fast as I can if I so much as see a scratch on my front door.

Besides, I don’t live alone. If anyone broke in, I’m sure George would help me and defend me. Just the other day, I saw him hammering a painting into his wall with such force. He might not look strong, but he has surprising ferocity.

Everyone in the neighbourhood who ever talked to me before have stopped. Sona told me it’s because she doesn’t like George and doesn’t want him to live with me anymore. I told her to mind her own business. I suspect the real reason is the fear. Everyone is too paranoid. The police suspect the killer is someone from the neighbourhood itself. So no one trusts anyone anymore. George smiled when I told him this. “Their trust is too fragile - just like the some of their necks.” His humor is a bit too dark for my taste sometimes.

Despite the macabre environment, I’ve been thriving. George is truly a blessing. I offered a 50-50 split on the rent but he told me he wanted it to be 90-10. I think he’s super rich but doesn’t like living alone. With the financial strain taken care of, I could focus on my photography a lot more. I’ve been booking gigs everywhere, even going out of town for days. I’d been afraid George may trash the place while I was away but he was the literal opposite. When I came back, there was a distinct smell of disinfectants and room freshners. The entire house looks like it was cleaned thoroughly. He cooks for both of us, does his own laundry pretty much everyday and never touches my things.

It feels wrong. To be doing so good. The police have asked me to not take anymore out-of-town gigs during the investigation. I complied, of course. It seems only right. George was upset by this. He slammed down the knife he was using to cut his carrots. “Why do they suspect you? You have an alibi for every single murder,” he said.

Luckily, I did. Some of my less fortunate neighbours had been taken to the station for interrogations that lasted hours while they tried to affirm their alibis. I, on the other hand, was one lucky bastard. But this just makes me feel like I should be even more co-operative in the investigation. “Yeah but it shouldn’t be too hard for me to book in-town gigs. It’ll only be a while. It’s a small neighbourhood. They’ll have their guy soon.”

George had sullenly gone back to his carrots. He was one of the unlucky ones who didn’t have any alibis for the murders. I was partially to blame for this. We lived together - we were supposed to be each other’s alibis. But my work had left him alone at home. During the last conversation I’d had with Sona, she had mentioned that George looked pretty good for the murders.

When put like that, I fear that Sona may be right. There’s a good possibility George might be the murderer. I don’t know who to talk about this. If I’m wrongly accusing him, I might lose the best roommate anyone could ever ask for. If I’m right, a serial killer might be the best roommate I’ve ever had.

I don’t even have concrete proof. It’s all circumstantial. He has no good alibi but that’s the case for so many of my neighbours. He’s not well-liked, but being anti-social is not the same as being homicidal. The disinfectant makes me suspicious - did he just kill someone and clean up after? It could be purely co-incidental.

I wish I could ask any of my neighbours about all this but none of them will talk anymore. I thought of whether I should tell Mom today but of course, she’ll worry and tell me to get out of here immediately. And maybe she’s right. I should get out of here. But I can’t go now. There’s a police investigation going on.

There’s other small things too. I asked him what he does for a living the other day. He said, “I make money off corpses.” When I looked shocked, he laughed and said, “I meant life insurance.” He could’ve meant life insurance or he could’ve been referring to the killer stealing money from his victims. To worsen matters, he pays rent in cash only.

But there is hope for me. If he only murders when I’m out of town, the murders should stop now. I’m not gonna be going out of town any time soon and that means, I can keep an eye on him. I don’t know what I can do if he truly is the murderer. Tell the police, I suppose. I hope I get to tell them. But I get the feeling that maybe it’s just my paranoia. The entire community is on edge and I’ve been acting as if I’m immune to it all. Maybe it’s finally getting to me.

xx

Dear Diary,

29th June, 2022. I might’ve been wrong about George not touching my things. Turns out, he only cleaned when I was out of town because he could do with the house as he pleased. He was just very good at putting everything back in place.

He’s been pestering me today. It’s weird. He seems like a completely different person. He asked me to clean my room or he would have to do it himself. I got angry too and told him to do it. And would you believe it? He shut me out of my own room.

Thankfully, I don’t hide anything precious in my room. I wondered if he might’ve opened my diary but if he has, he said nothing about it to me. After he cleaned my room, he didn’t clean the rest of the house. When I asked him about it, he said he’ll do it tomorrow.

The change is his demeanor may have been to the worse but I feel less convinced that he’s the killer now. The cleaning thing must just be his eccentricity.

He even did some work today - something I’ve never seen him do since he started living with me. But it was again, at the cost of my peace. He kept asking me if I’d like a life insurance policy. When I said no, he asked me about car insurance. Then house insurance. Then a bike insurance. I don’t even own a bike.

I don’t know what to make of this change. Maybe he’s finally opened up enough to me that he now feels comfortable pestering me. I’m having a harder time reconciling the image of a cold-blooded killer with this new, frenzied George. I hope I’m right.

xx

Dear Diary,

30th June, 2022. George isn’t the killer. But I am definitely in danger. I told the police as soon as I saw the mark. They are on their way right now. George is still his new frenzied self. He’s prepping his disinfectants even as I write. I think it helps him calm down.

Rent is due tomorrow. He told me I needn’t pay this month at all. “You’ll leave soon,” he said. I guess he figured out that Mom would not let me stay in this neighbourhood for any longer than I had to. It’s surprisingly perceptive for an anti-social guy like h-

xx

Dear diary,

It wasn’t George. X