Bartemius shifted his weight nervously from side to side as he waited for the door to open, one hand resting on the handle of his gun as a precaution. He wasnât sure what to think; on one hand, he would have never guessed that his neighbor, the same one who dressed his monster of a dog in various ridiculous and horrible sweaters, was capable of such a thing, but on the other, his behavior only minutes previously was far too suspicious to discount.
He heard Hal lumber to the door and let out a resounding bark before the door itself was opened, and he tried his best to compose himself in the short time in between. âAmycus,â He breathed out in a huff as the door swung open, revealing the blond standing in the doorway, beer in hand, looking utterly incapable of the growing suspicion in Bartyâs mind. âAmycus, this is important. Can I come in?â
Really, it wasnât a true question, as he pushed past him to stand in the entryway, not wanting to settle this out in public for all the world to see. He could hear the muffled sound of the TV from the other room, but paid it no mind as he continued, âI need you to answer me truthfully, please. Rabastanâ the boy thatâs been here every other morning for the past year that Iâve lived in this apartment complexâ Whenâs the last time you saw him?â
Amycus stumbled back a step when Barty walked into the apartment regardless of his answer, gently pushing the door closed again. He stepped over the gate that kept Hal back from the door as Barty began to speak again and turned to look at the other. He frowned at the question, looking down to the floor. âEvery other morning...?â He parroted back, still giving off the impression he was completely confused.Â
âI...You, know what. Hold. Hold on, let me...â Amycus walked off and Hal was more than happy to follow him, squeaking the toy as he went. In his room Amycus set the beer bottle onto his dresser and picked up a notebook, taking it back to Barty as he flipped through the pages, âHere, I do this everyday...â As he quickly moved through the pages, each of them were drawings, some crude little doodles and some rather detailed. Many of them seemed to be Hal, or still life drawings of abandoned meals.Â
Pausing on one page, Amycus stared briefly at the picture of Rabastan. He kept flipping until he found another, then a third, âThis guy?â He asked, turning to stand with his back to Barty so the other could look over his shoulder. He turned to the very back of the book and flipped through blank pages until heâd found the most recent one, and started going backwards. Stopping on another drawing of Rabastan sitting in what looked like to be the floor of the kitchen, he held it to Barty, âHere...I just--Its...The dateâs, uh. I mean this is from a month ago?â
Turning to frown at the wall as he still held the book Amycus scowled at a note left sitting next to his house keys. âOh...Is it...â Without asking Amycus took the notebook back from Barty, flipping through the pages until he found one that dated about two weeks ago. It was a drawing mostly scribbled over, but seemed like it was previously a sketch of some older man, âI. Started a new medication. Iâm. Well-I have schizophrenia. My old medication was just, I slept all day, but.â Amycus frowned down at Hal, who was laying on the floor chewing on a toy, âFuck....Did I feed you...?â
The dog looked up at Amycus, tail thudding on the floor as it wagged. âYou wanna eat?â He asked the dog, who promptly got up and galloped into the kitchen. Amycus ran a hand through his hair before giving the notebook back to Barty as he mumbled, âHere. Here, you can. Come in, come inside. You, can come into the kitchen.â He opened the baby gate so Barty wouldnât have to step over it, then followed after his dog into the kitchen.Â
