I see Blake started to write up a post on what Tia saw yesterday, but he's busy comforting her again now that we've stopped again. She's honestly not saying much about it, and neither of us is pushing her. Sometimes you just... know, though. Does that make sense? Seeing something like that as a nearly tangible thing. Maybe it's just another dream.
The same jerk who's been dogging us since Alabama, watching, waiting, trying to push buttons. The same one from before. Shot him in the face with the flare gun. Stabbed in the face with the crochet hook. Not sure how I managed that. On to more important things, though.
He decided to start screwing with the hotel guests, apparently. Too much of a coward or at least too much of an ass to come at us directly. Not that I'll complain about that on some levels. You know, other than pulling more people who have no tie to this in to die. Tia saw him in the parking lot with a young woman, the skin on her her arms sliced up into little symbols, her hair hacked off to expose her scalp, dragging her away... Tia cut off there, but I know. I know what she saw. I see it. How?
Another town, another hotel. So tired of this... Need to give the lovebirds some time soon. Even if it's stupid. Someone needs to have something good right now. When it rains, it pours, and cliche little things like that. I can't do much of anything for anyone else at the moment other than them... I can only hope it counts for something in the long run.