#fto patrick

“Statement of Patrick O’Connor, regarding… his friend, and murders he claims to have committed.

Statement recorded by Archival Assistant, Brandie Diablo Originally given… we uh. We don't actually know. The letter was just on the boss’s desk this morning.

Statement begins,

I’m going to be entirely honest here. It’s not like you can prove it.

I killed someone.

I killed. Multiple someones.  Multiple people, I mean.

And i’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t tell you their names. Because i don’t think they had names. If they did, they don’t anymore.

I think my friend ate them. Or he did something to them that is like eating.

….

Let me start over.

I was diagnosed with a mild case of schizophrenia when I was young, though i can’t tell you exactly how old I was. 

When i told people about the voices i could hear, they just got really worried

The voices I hear have never been loud. Never even been cruel or dangerous, not really. At most, annoying.

Usually, I can’t even make out what they’re saying. Its more like. A soft buzzing through a phone call someone else is on.

I’m not insane. I just hear things that are not real. Not often. Only sometimes.

The point is. I was not surprised when I heard a voice coming from behind me one day.

I can’t.. really tell you when it started.

I can’t tell you when I met my friend

I didn’t. I mean, I didn't meet him. I heard him. it. Behind me. 

He wasn't ever, mean or anything. Never quite cruel, but never quite.. kind either.

He just spoke to me.

I think one of the first things he said to me was a question. Or. One of the first things i acknowledged at least.

‘What's the time’, he might have said. He definitely did, at.. some point.

Maybe he asked something else.

Maybe he asked a question about.. where we were going. Maybe he asked about how i felt…

Yes, yes that was it. That’s what I answered.

I was on the train, going home, after a night out.

And. I was drunk. I’m going to be entirely honest about that. I was drunk and being drunk tends to make the voices louder.

For that reason, I don't drink often, I only do so to celebrate big things… or to mourn something large.

… it was. The day after my divorce was finalized. I don't. I’m still not sure if I was celebrating or mourning that night

Anyway, I was on the train. On the train, drunk.

I wasn’t blackout or wasted or anything like that. I can hold my liquor. But I was heavily buzzed.

There were a few other people on the train, but. None near me. None even looked at me,

And it asked if I felt better now.

“Do you feel better Patrick? Did it help?”

His voice was.. so familiar.

I knew it could be fake, but it was so strong that I just. Responded

I said I felt like shit, but that I was doing better.

I think that if I hadn't said anything ….

If I just ignored the fake voice, like I always do. None of it would have happened.

But I did answer…

He started talking to me every day after that.

Usually on my way to work.

.. I need to be clear.

He didn’t tell me to do it.

Never once did he mention violence

He just asked questions. So so many questions 

I stopped answering him, mostly, but. I think he got his answers anyway.

Sometimes, I would answer. When he asked something when i was at home

... this is so foolish. But I found comfort in the voice.

I blame it on being lonely. I wasn't used to the silence of living alone yet.

He never asked me to commit violence

But something he said, so very, very often.

All he said was that He was hungry. And that it hurt being

…

“Its hurts being not real Patrick”

He said it so many times.

I can't tell you his name

The man I shot. I can't tell you his name. He doesn’t have one. Maybe he never did.

I can't tell you when I decided I was going to kill him.

I don’t think I even knew his name, if he did have one.

I just.

Picked up my gun one day.

He was an asshole

But he didn’t deserve getting shot in the head by a trash can.

I started going insane when his body hit the floor

Or rather. When it didn't.

I cant. I can't explain it. I cant explain what i saw

It. Spun

Every part of his body spun into itself

And I heard a crunch

From behind me

Where I always heard him.

I fed that man to my friend.

And he wasn’t the last.

I thought someone would ask me questions. An investigation would start about a missing person.

But no one ever did.

After…. It was after the third, I think? The only way I could keep track was through.. through the bullets I gathered after killing.

I’ll give you one. Maybe you can find their name through their blood or… or something.

Anyway. It was after the third bullet that I asked someone about it.

It was… a friend of the person I'd just killed.

Maybe their partner. They were wearing a ring, and I think the person I shot had a matching one.

I knew their name at that point. I asked about them, to the person I'm pretty sure they were married to.

And they just stared at me. And told me they’d never heard that name before.

I asked about their ring. The wedding ring they wore

And they stared at it, completely confused. 

Whatever it.. he…

Whatever I did to those people. It didn’t just kill them.

The voice got stronger after each bullet.

At first, I just started seeing a face.

Like my own, but. Not. Different eye colors. Sharper eyes, softer nose.

… every time I killed someone, the features became clearer, and clearer.

Every time he ate someone, he pulled himself closer and close

It was last week that he opened my door for me.

The morning started normally.

I. Made coffee.

i didn’t actually.. see him, until i practically out the door

And he was standing there.

He opened the door, and i stepped outside.

I didnt .. realize what was wrong. Until people started talking to him

And he responded

Like he was real

…

When i finally asked who he was…

All he said was

“Why Patrick, I’m Allumos. Your friend.”

…. I don’t think he’s my really friend. But he’s.. sticking with me, I think.

He’s the one who actually delivered this letter.

I’m gonna try to check myself into a mental hospital for a few months. At least. Maybe longer, if I can manage.

I know that when I get out, Allumos will still be there.

He’s my friend... or whatever he qualifies as being a friend.

He’s being… very supportive about my ‘mental breakdown’. But I can tell he’s terribly amused by my actions.

Statement ends.

This.. this is a weird statement.

I mean, they’re all weird. But. This one is really weird. There’s not much we can do to confirm bodies that don’t exist, and missing people that simply aren’t there.

We haven’t.. looked at the bullet yet. But it is bloody.

And we did look into Patrick O’Connor. He is currently spending an unclear amount  of time in Inpatient Care.

From what we could find in,.. less than Legal means that i take no accountability for, is that his emergency contact is Someone only listed as Allumos.