The Bullitts Present Amelia Sparks’ Diary Days 1 – 42: Murder, Mystery, Psychosis & Lucy Liu

Taking their name from Steve McQueen’s 1968 Bullitt thriller, an intriguing new “action adventure” musical outfit by the name of The Bullitts is on the way with creative concepts I have never seen before.

The Bullitts forthcoming debut album is an audio movie narrated by actress Lucy Liu who plays the lead character Amelia Sparks (Listen to the first single Close Your Eyes with Jay Electronica x Lucy Liu) who from what I can gather from her diary entries so far via @TheBullitts is a disturbed (possibly schizophrenic) young woman who finds herself pulled into a dark twisted story filled with secrets, deceit & murder.

The way The Bullitts have put her diary entries out so far is almost genius, utilizing twitter – the popular social networking machine, they have been delivering a 1st person narrative peppered with striking images and shocking videos for the past 42 days.
Catch up on the entire diary to date below.

I’d suggest getting yourself a strong drink before you read this… It’s not for the faint of hearted.
Information at this point is sketchy but we’re told their first single, “Close Your Eyes”, is due for release in February 2011 and features Jay Electronica and Lucy Liu, followed by the groups’ debut album They Die By Dawn, which also features Mos Def and Tori Amos.

I hear voices. I am not paranoid. They’re real.
I followed a man today. He reminded me of my father. I don’t know why I decided to follow him, I just did. An impulse. Nothing happened.
He met a lady, got into a car and drove off. I walked around afterward with no particular aim. I’m home now. Thinking of Dad.

Today smells like my childhood. The faint scent of my mother’s coat. I used to wrap myself in it when she went to work.
It happens sometimes. Out of nowhere I’ll smell something that would take me back to my past. A time I’d sooner forget.

Why do people always express emotions they never feel? “How are you?” with a smile – They don’t want to know how I am!
It’s just another way of saying “look, let’s get these pleasantries out the way quickly so I can continue on my journey.” I hate this place.

But this is my life. Cradle and knife. Everything grows until dies!

What an odd day. First I saw a person on the bus reading Catcher In The Rye. He went out of the way to make sure I saw the cover.
The cover of an overrated, underwritten novel. I’ve never understood the fascination.

Then I had to sit in front of my boss and listen to him talk about his kids for an hour… Just so I can tell him that I quit!
With every word he uttered, all I could think about was how much I wanted to strangle him. He still lives however.

The first time I haven’t worked. I spent the whole day going through old photos. Surprising how much you strike poses for mundane moments.

School photos. I don’t remember any of these kids. Where are they now? No doubt we’ve all turned into cogs within the wheel of mediocrity.

Work photos. I remember all of these people. I hated every last one of them. But that was yesterday. I’m free from the chains of hypocrisy.
Although I still feel somewhat enslaved by it.

The city is alive. It’s streets are overrun with nameless vessels. But I find solitude in crowds and noise. I disappear within the mayhem.
The sun is blinding but I feel freezing cold. My life in a nutshell. Something bad is going to happen.

I sat outside for hours in the cold. Watching countless people with misplaced values. The lost chasing after the lost.
The homeless drunkard has more self awareness than the wealthy businessman. For the homeless man knows his place. The world is upside down.

I’m home now. Pretending I’m happy being unhappy. Pretending that I don’t pretend.


This waitress is asking me to attack her. “Buy more coffee or leave”. So there’s a time limit on how long you have to eat and drink?
Do I need to grab a tray and a stopwatch? I must stop coming to this place. They call it a cafe, I call it a hell hole of germs and toast.

I recognise the man in front of me. Seen him before but not in here. He keeps staring over. He knows me too. I feel uneasy. I’ll leave now.
I’ll go home. I have to stop being busy doing nothing… And simply enjoy the nothingness…
Because something bad is going to happen. I can feel it.

I sat in front of the box all day. Flicking through channels for hours on end. Every one seemed to show the same thing. Nothing.
The news is just a sphere of Grey trying to convince me of the importance of a non existent rainbow… Life.

I’m sitting here waiting for something to happen. I don’t know what is approaching… but I know it’s near.
Bad things come to those who wait.

I hear the voices again this morning. This time they are not whispers. They are intrusive yet calming. They are telling me to let go…
Let go of my fear. Let go of my attachments. Let go of everything I’ve ever loved, past and present….
The first time I heard the voices I was 9 years old. My father had just passed away. I was supposed to go on a school trip…
The voices told me to say I was ill so I wouldn’t go. I wasn’t shaken or scared. I just obeyed…
I stayed home. A driver lost control of his truck and crashed into the bus. 12 kids were hurt. 2 died. I was safe.

The voices always took care of me…
But today they are telling me to kill someone.

I hate Mondays. It’s just a fresh look at the millions of people on the road to nowhere.
The man who just served me coffee told me how “radiant” I look this morning. I wanted to tell him that it’s because my blood is boiling.
The waitress from the other day is giving everyone fake smiles. Everyone but me. She refuses to come to my table. I like this about her.
The day comes to an end. I search endlessly for a meaning to all of this. I feel bad toward that which I am supposed to feel good about…

And good toward that which I am supposed to feel bad.

Strange days. I had better not wait. The city is burning up. Everything is ablaze. I feel the tension turning up.
The voices keep repeating the words: “We are all lambs to slaughter, and just like water the tears escape from within”…
They tell me that even though the alarms are sounding, I should remain grounded and stop throwing caution to the wind.

The voices are screaming my name. They say that everything will disappear but them…

They say I should turn away from yesteryear and right the wrongs. But what wrongs?

I hear voices. I am not paranoid. They’re real.

It’s that man again. The second time he’s come to this place. He’s sat down and won’t stop looking at me. Where have I seen him before?
I know his face from somewhere but I’m positive we haven’t met. I would have remembered otherwise.

Where do I know him from? He’s making me uneasy. But so does every man I’ve met since my father passed away. All except one.
I had my first boyfriend at 16. I lost my virginity a year later. It was almost as unmemorable as the boy that broke it.
I was 20 when I met my second boyfriend. That lasted 3 years. With each passing year I told myself it would be our last…

But like all bad relationships, they have a way of sticking around.
And then… There was him…

Without words he told me I was all he needed…
He transformed my entire outlook on life. He made me believe again…
And just like that… I was whole.
I was onto something. I knew there was more. Before there was nothing… But with him I had all.
But like all Good relationships, they have a way of Not sticking around.

The strange man has just got up and left. Perhaps it is him the voices are telling me to kill.

I never went in the diner today. I just wasn’t in the mood for that smarmy waitress. Instead I sat in the park until my feet were frozen.
An old woman sat down and began talking to me in a foreign language. I didn’t understand a word she was saying.
But then again I have a difficult time understanding anyone these days.

She reminded me of an old lady that used to live a few doors away from me when I was a child.
The police came to our door one day and informed my parents that she had died of a stroke…
They later found out her son had poisoned her… Lately everything reminds me of death.

Tonight I have do something different. I have to break the monotony of my day to day. I want to experience something. I’m not sure what.
My days are getting worse since I quit my job. Less contact with people, which is good…
More time with myself, which can be bad. The only company I have is the voices.
Tonight I have to experience something different.

It’s getting dark much earlier now. I can’t believe I’ve sat in this diner all day.
At least I didn’t see that strange man today.

I’m leaving. It’s pitch black outside. I don’t want to go home though.

It’s freezing out. And the streets are deserted. I feel as cold on the inside as it is outside.
I’m searching the night looking for that “difference”.

Bars never really have anything for me. I’ll sip from the same glass all evening and stand in a corner where I won’t be seen.
Tonight however, I welcome the feeling of not belonging. As long as I feel something.

Anything. I need difference.

On my way home now. This place is like a ghost town.

The cold brings about the only difference I am to have… quiet.
I’ll have to see what tomorrow night will bring.

The first day i haven’t been to the diner in a while. I stayed in all day searching for a reason to stop searching.
I’ll venture out again now. I sense something about to happen… and I think the night will have something to do with it.
I’m sitting in a bar alone. Men keep coming up to me asking if I’m okay. If they were offering me a drink I’d understand…

But asking if I’m okay is making me feel paranoid.

It’s not a busy place, but there’s enough people here to make me stand out being alone.
It may be because I’m drinking a hot chocolate in a non-cocoa environment. Or maybe because men think they’re all superheroes…
And I’m in need of saving…. ?

It’s beginning to full out now.

Another man just asked if I’m okay! I wanted to attack him. Took a picture instead.

The DJ just started playing the theme music for Dirty Dancing. That’s my cue. I’m leaving. I wonder if that’s the bad thing I sensed?
No, it’s something else. But that’s a close second.

I am SO not having the time of my life.
I’m back home now. No taxi’s, so I started walking. Before I knew it I was home. A man walked past me and said I was talking to myself…
I told him I was on the phone and to mind his own business… But I wasn’t on the phone.

I’m still awake. The voices are continuous. I know they are not going to stop. I’ll have to sleep through them.

It’s tonight. I can feel it. The voices have been screaming all night. Whatever is going on, something bad is going to happen tonight.
The voices have stopped. But how long can they go on saying nothing.

I’m dressed. I’m going out.
Something is in the air. I can feel it.

I’ve come back to the same bar. I don’t know why, but I feel it is here that something will happen.
Last night the voices kept saying: “Have you ever disappeared, reappearing everywhere that there is sorrow…”
“Melt into a single tear. what I have to say won’t wait until tomorrow”!

So I know something is going to happen tonight!
No one is here yet.

But it was like that yesterday at first.

It’s HIM!!!
The man from the diner!!!
Just… sitting there.

He must be following me. This is no coincidence!
He’s seen me. He’s looking directly at me.

Something very bad is going to happen, very soon.
Someone has just joined him. A woman.

Perhaps it is coincidence… That the man who watches me daily just happens to be in the bar the day I’m told something bad will happen…
Or not.

They seem to be well acquainted.

Play. He may not be so bad after all.

Or not…
Whichever way, tonight I am not letting him out of my sight.
They’re still there.
Just… enjoying themselves.

They’re leaving.

If I get too close he’ll see me. How long are they going to walk for?
They’re going to a car park. Why did he park so far?
If they get in a car i’ve lost them.

Okay there’s movement. I’ll stay behind this car.
He’s either saying goodbye to her, or getting a down payment on tonight’s pleasures.


Why don’t I stop it? Why am I not calling for help? Why don’t I just scream?


I got away. I hid under a car for 3 hours. Eventually he stopped looking for me and put the dead girl in his car.
I never got his license plate. But I know who he is… And what he’s done.

The scariest thing about the whole ordeal… is that I wasn’t scared at all.
It’s funny how the voices have totally stopped.
I will find him.

I will kill him.

I looked out of my window all day today. I thought he might have found out my address somehow.
But if he did I’m positive he would have paid me ‘a visit’ by now.
He definitely won’t be visiting the diner again. Unless it’s to look for me.

I’m going there tomorrow. I must find out who he is. Someone there must know something about him.

I can’t sleep. Too many thoughts are running through my head. Like why I don’t call the police. And why don’t I feel scared… Why?

The only thing I feel is excited. Excited at the prospect of killing this man. I almost feel guilty about how good I feel.

I spent the whole day inside. I couldn’t leave the house. I wasn’t scared, at all… But every time I went to my front door I just froze.
I know I’m not going to be able to sleep again tonight. But every time I stay awake it steals my tomorrows.
I was watching the news all day, waiting for any report of a missing woman. Nothing. How long before people realise that she’s gone?

Does she even have anyone that would notice her disappearance?
I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I keep thinking about two things…

One… When I was a little girl I used to fall asleep in my bed and always wake up in a different part of the house…
I used to get really scared and shake my head fast, then re-awake in my bed. I never understood how it happened.

Two… Murder. Death. Kill.

I listened to Joni Mitchell’s ‘Court & Spark’ all morning… Then I managed to venture outside.
When I stepped outside I couldn’t help feeling someone was watching me.

I’ve come straight to the diner…
I’ve been sitting here for 2 hours. Although I know he’s not going to show, someone here must know something about him.

This is the first time I’ve started conversation with anyone here. I’m asking about him but no one knows who I’m talking about.
The only person who is bound to know anything is the smarmy waitress, but she doesn’t start her shift for another hour. I’ll wait.
She’s arrived. We’ve never exchanged any words but an order. And her telling me to make another order or leave, of course. Bitch.

We spoke! She was actually quite civil. She knows exactly who I’m talking about. She said his name is Michael. Doesn’t know his last name…
She says his smell is distinct. I can’t remember picking up a scent, but I never got that close. She says it’s definitely a ladies perfume.

With a strong ‘Fig’ scent. She says it smells like Diptique, but stronger. So it’s not cheap. There can’t be many places you can buy it.
Smarmy waitress’ name is Arabella by the way. I don’t want to start liking her… I’m leaving.

Michael? – Perfume? – Fig? – Diptique?.
Tomorrow I’ll go to Space NK in Soho. I’m positive someone there would know what perfume Arabella is talking about.

Today was interesting to say the least. I went to Space NK and described the scent to a man who seemed to be a professor of smells.
He said the ‘fig’ perfume it must be is called ‘Nez A Nez’ and the only place he knows that sells it is The Avery, in Limelight Marketplace.

I went to the Limelight and spoke intently to a man called Stewart. I told him I want to buy Nez A Nez for my boyfriend Michael…
He gave me the most blank stare. Literally not a single reaction. There can’t be that many men that wear perfume. So I was leaving…
Then his colleague stopped me. A spritely girl, early twenties. Asked if I was buying for Michael Jeffries… I said that I was.

She gave me discount because he has a reward card. I think I’ve found him… Michael Jeffries. But I have to be sure.
Where are the voices when you need them?

It’s him. I know it is.
I took the perfume to the diner. Arabella instantly recognised the scent. It’s not a coincidence. I don’t believe in them.
Something led me to The Avery. Call it fate. Call it luck.
But then I’ve always been lucky when it comes to the macabre.
Lying in my bed wondering how I can get the address of Michael Jeffries from the perfumery. I’ll have to go there tomorrow with an angle.
Even as I go to sleep I feel like I am being watched. Let’s hope those eyes like what they are inescapably going to see.

Hardly got any sleep last night. I have to stop doing that. I need to function at 100% come the day…
Especially that I’m planning to kill someone.

First order of the day; The Avery.

A Full Day Of Deceit.

I told the girl at the perfumery that our new reward card hadn’t arrived and to double check the address where it was sent.
She read out Michael Jeffries’ address immediately.

I wonder what her reaction would have been like if she knew I was going to murder him. She might have stopped smiling… for a second.
These days people get killed on YouTube. Murder doesn’t hold the same menace it once did.

For some reason I thought he would live further out. His address is less than a mile away. I know this because I went there.
I spoke to the doorman. I couldn’t think of anything clever to say so I used the “I’ve a package to deliver for Michael Jeffries” trick.

He said Michael goes away every weekend and will be back Tuesday morn. But it was strange… I had no package and was wearing high heels…

Why do people give up information so easily? More importantly, what would I have done if Michael Jeffries was home?
I went back to my apartment… still feeling like I’m being watched.
I’m trying to sleep but my mind is wide awake thinking of a way to get into his apartment before he gets home… I need to sleep.

My place is particularly dark tonight. I’ve never been comfortable in the dark. I always sleep with my door open to get light from the hall.
When I was a little girl and my Mom would turn the light out, I would have nightmarish images of the fiddler from Fiddler On The Roof.
In the dark the shadows taunt me. But I’ve never been comfortable in the light either… I need to sleep.

I sat outside his apartment building for hours today. I couldn’t think of a way to get in. I’m new to this murder thing.
He’s supposed to be coming back tomorrow. But I have to know exactly who and what it is I am going to confront.

I can’t say that I know what I’m doing because I don’t. But I know what I’m going to do.
I don’t know how I’m going to feel afterward. That thought is the only thing that scares me… in addition to the fiddler on the roof.
But nothing is strong enough to stop what is going to happen.

I am going to kill Michael Jeffries.

I woke up at 8 am and went straight there. I sat and walked around his building until 2pm. No sign of him.

I went in. Same doorman. I said I’m redelivering the package that needed signature. He said Michael missed his connecting flight.
I took refuge on the bench directly opposite. In the quivering cold I sat for what seemed like an eternity. Then something odd happened…
The doorman came out and gave me a sandwich and a coffee. He sat and had lunch with me. A really nice man that kept repeating the phrase…
“There ya go!”

I genuinely liked him. He’s a father of four and works two jobs. His wife is temping. His name is Timothy. I told him my name was Amelia…
I honestly tried to lie… but the truth spilled out.

He told me that he knows I’m not a courier, but it must be important if I’m waiting in this cold. I wanted to tell him, but I said…
“Yes. It is.” He simply replied… “There ya go”.

I waited for another hour, then asked Timothy if he thought Michael was coming back at all. He said he didn’t think so. But to call him…
He gave me Michael’s number!

I have sat here looking at it for over five hours. I’m not going to call him… yet.

These are truly Strange Days.


I have never felt more idle. I feel stuck. There is still no sign of Michael and I can’t get into his apartment.

As much as Timothy seems to like me, I’m sure that he won’t just hand me the keys to Michael’s place.
I have no logical reason for my wanting entrance into the apartment of Michael Jeffries. Logical, no.
But something awaits me there. I don’t know how I know, but I always know when bad things are about to happen… Even without the voices.

It’s late. Insomnia and myself have always been close friends. I’ll go to sleep now, and figure out a way to face head on, the inevitable.


“Hi Timothy. I need to get into Michael Jeffries apartment.” I said those words exactly.
He didn’t even look shocked. As if he knew those words were coming. He just smiled and said softly; “I know”. Then we stared at each other.

He said that he has a crazy hunch Michael has done something bad. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell him how bad it is.

He asked me why I would want to even go in there. I told him as non-insanely as I could, that something bad is going to happen again.
With a straight face Timothy asked me the most insane question;

“Are… you a… Superhero?”

That was the first time I have genuinely laughed since my high school principal died.

He told me he couldn’t let me in today because the area manager is on duty… “But the A.M isn’t going to be here tomorrow.
I’m positive he suspects that I’m going to kill Michael Jeffries.
I really like Timothy. If i was a superhero, I’m sure he would be my Alfred.

I went home and stared for hours at Michael’s cell number, now stuck to my fridge.
Then I idiotically watched the idiots on the idiot box behave like idiots. I want to take an axe to this city and kill everyone…

Except maybe Timothy.


I was at the building 1pm on the dot. Timothy told me that would be the time he was taking his lunch. When I arrived he smiled.

We walked out of the building. I followed him to a side entrance. The next thing I knew, we’re on the 10th floor and he’s opening room 101.
I tried to take a picture but Timothy wouldn’t let me. I could’ve taken them sneakily but I didn’t want to betray his trust. Weird. I care.

The place was immaculate. An all white 1 bedroom suite. Not a spec of dust anywhere. It doesn’t even looked lived in.
I don’t know what I expected to see in his apartment but I was kind of underwhelmed. Two things stood out…

The first was that he had 3 bottles of Nez A Nez in his bathroom…

The second is that he doesn’t have one photograph in his whole apartment. Not one.

He’s self conscious enough to wear women’s perfume, but not vain enough to take a picture?
The time went by so fast I forgot Timothy was on a lunch break. He felt uneasy so we had to leave. Tim asked me if I found what I wanted.
“He’s still alive so I guess the answer is no” I told him.

What Timothy said next was as if he jumped straight into my head… “Bad things come to those who wait.”

I left Michael Jeffries’ apartment certain of one thing…
I can’t have Timothy implicated in this in any way. I won’t kill Michael in his apartment.

However, I did take a souvenir…


It just seemed to have significance where it was placed.

Now I have a cell # and a ring.

I need some sleep.

I went to sleep last night wondering about the ring. First thing this morning I took it with me to the diner.
Arabella gave me a hug??? She looked really pleased to see me. I showed her the ring. I asked her if she’d ever seen Michael wearing it.

She said she didn’t recognise it. All that stocks out for her is his scent and his manners. She asked where I had got the ring.
“From his apartment.” I told her bluntly.
She looked at me as though I was insane…

I’ve garnered that reaction my entire life.
I said I’ll explain later and left. She said that she’ll let me know when he comes in again.

I roamed the city idly for a few hours. Then went home and watched An episode of The Twilight Zone. ‘The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street’.

It’s about a powercut that occurs in a small town. Then a boy tells the residents that aliens are coming and the cut is part if their plan.
It’s a great study of how paranoia is spread through one silly point if view. The camera pans up at the end and shows the kid to be right…

A let down. It should have ended with the pandemonium of the residents. I turned off the TV after that. Then got to thinking of the ring…
It’s old so probably it was a gift from his father. Or maybe it was from a victims ring. But it’s a man’s size…

And something tells me Michael’s victims are women… If there’s more than one.

If he’s not back by Sunday I’m going to call his phone. I don’t know what I’ll say yet, but I’ll be forced to initiate a confrontation.


He never came back… I gave it much thought… All I have is a ring… And this;
917 267 8710 – Michael Jeffries

It was time to call. There was nothing else to it. What would I say? I’ll improvise.

I called.

The first time, I got voicemail.
“This is the voicemail of Michael Jeffries. Please call back.”

I hung up. Waited an hour. Called back.
I heard his squeaky voice. It fits his face perfectly. He sounds like a sociopath who’s fooled everyone into believing he’s harmless.,.
But I’ve seen the real him and harmless he is not.

He answered his phone with two words: “Michael Jeffries.”

I tried to say something clever but instead, all that came out of my mouth was:
“I have your ring”.

Before he could even say “What?” I hung up. I could literally feel my heart trying to jump from out of my chest.
If he wasn’t intending on coming back to his apartment any time soon… He will now.


First thing this morning Timothy calls me in a panic. He said Michael called reception asking if anyone has been around to see him.
Michael said that he thinks something has been stolen from his apartment. Timothy asked me if I took anything. I told him about the ring.
He begged for me to bring it back. I told him that I couldn’t. I then told him that it would be best if we never contact each other again.

Timothy agreed.

I withheld my number when I called Michael, but I almost want him to have it now. He’ll figure out it’s me if he doesn’t already know.
How did Michael know I was talking about the ring from his apt? It could have been any ring. Why this one? What importance does it hold?

If nothing else, it seems to be a good tool to bring him back from the oblivion where he seems to have gone. Fingers crossed.
Where does that saying originate? Fingers crossed?

Just another morbid superstition parents put on their kids I suppose. Like “cross my heart and hope to die”. Why would anyone say that?

Cross Michael Jeffries’ heart and hope he dies.

That’s better. I can sleep now.

If only that were true. I find it hard to sleep without the voices.


I went in the diner to see Arabella today. She rushed over and pulled me in the back room as soon as she saw me.
She said that a man, not Michael, came in asking for me yesterday. He had an English accent. He told Arabella he was a detective.
She told him that she barely even knows me and I’m the non-talkative sort. He left a name. Saul Emmanuel.
He wouldn’t tell her what he wanted with me, but he said that should I come in, to let me know he’s staying at The Standard Hotel.

The only weapon I’ve ever owned is my train of thought.
However, I’m going to go home, take a shower and go straight to The Standard Hotel… Bringing my train of thought…

I know this has something to do with Michael Jeffries.

I’m here. As soon as I got to the reception he walked up to me. He already knew what I looked like.
He looks like his job description. Why do detectives always look like detectives.

The beer in his hand makes no difference. I could spot him a mile away.

It’s creepy. He said he’s been following Michael for months… And been following me for a couple of weeks.

He knows about the murder…
And has suspicions about my plans henceforth.

He’s gone to the bathroom. This place reminds me of the bar where I saw Michael Jeffries.
Saul keeps saying; “There’s a line Amelia. There’s a line. You cannot cross it.”
I haven’t even told him what I’m planning to do.

He is calling my life a “Great malaise of unhappiness.”
I disagree. Every time I think of killing Michael Jeffries… I feel absolutely elated.

We’ve been sitting here for hours discussing things totally outside Michael. I’m not sure how much truth I’ve told him.
He won’t tell me why he hasn’t arrested him yet. He just says that there is a bigger picture. It doesn’t make any sense.

I spent four hours talking to Saul Emmanuel, who seemed to know everything about me… but wanted me to TELL HIM everything about me.
Yet would disclose nothing really personal about himself or more importantly, Michael Jeffries.

I said I had to use the bathroom and left. He must be still there drinking yet another bottle of Stella. I’m going home.
At least I know who was following me. When I ‘sentence’ Michael I’ll have to be very careful doing so.

I’m home. Saul is strange. He doesn’t seem the egotistical type, yet made no fuss about me snapping away with my camera phone.
I didn’t even try to conceal it.

He just kept saying…

He should have said that to Michael Jeffries. That poor woman would still be alive.


I received a call from an unknown number today. The caller simply said: “Who are you?”.  I recognized the voice immediately.
Michael Jeffries.

“I know who I am. Who are you?”.
I said: “I know what you’ve done”.

“Then you have a good idea what I’m going to do next if you don’t return the ring”.
I told him that he’ll have to find me first. Then he said something that I had failed to realize up until that moment…

“You blocked your number when you called me… And yet I have it. How easy would it be for me to locate you?”
I had no rebuttal. “I come back on the 29th. Make sure the ring is returned by then”.

I knew I would sound childish, but the words came out anyway: “Or what?”
He coldly replied: “That is a question reserved for those of whom you have no knowledge”. Then he hung up.

I don’t know exactly how I felt at that point, but I knew I had absolutely no words.

This happened at 1pm. I haven’t spoken a word since.
Why did he repeatedly refer to the ring as “The ring?”, as if he doesn’t own it?

And how did he get my number?

At least I know when he’s coming back. The 29th of this month. I’ll get all the answers I need then… One way or the other.
It’s hard trying to sleep knowing you’ve spent part of your day talking to a killer.

When I close my eyes I am immediately transported back to the car park with Michael Jeffries and the woman.
It’s even harder when that killer has your phone number.


They say that God has a cruel sense of humour… I seem to have a hard time finding where the comedy lies.
The person that I’m tracking finds my number and tells me that he’s tracking me.
It has to end badly for one of us…
Or both.

Even if I return the ring Michael Jeffries is not going to Let it end just like that.
I started to call Saul then hung up three times today. I want to tell him about the phone call, but that’s begging for interference.

I want to tell him about the ring, but again, that’s a plea for an unwanted presence.

I know the ring factors into the murder somehow but for the life of me I can’t figure it out.
“For the life of me” Another saying I’ve never understood… This time however, it’s meaning is perfect.

I stayed in today. Not out of fear. I think I was preparing mentally for what is to come. I was half expecting a knock on the door.

A man with a gun standing in the doorway saying: “Amelia Sparks, your number is up”.
Alas, no one came and no one called. I live another day.

I’m pretending that I’m trying to sleep. My body is exhausted but my mind is wide awake.
“The ring”… “The ring”. He refers to it as “The ring”. Why?

I tried it on. It’s too big to be a woman’s. It must be his.

Detective Saul said that there is a bigger picture. How much bigger can it be?

It sounded like another way to say they haven’t got sufficient evidence.
A murder; that nobody saw except me. A dead woman; that no one has reported missing…
If I didn’t film it myself I’d think I’m going crazy.

In truth, I stopped ‘going crazy’ as a child… Because I arrived at ‘Nuts’ soon after… and haven’t looked back since.
Sleep has evaded me long enough. Come the 29th I can’t be tired. So I’ll switch off my thought process and lay to rest my ideas…

And close my eyes until I dream.


Christmas Eve. The night before Christmas and all through the house…
was no phone call, no voices, and nobody following me. Strange how one gets used to negative attention.

Michael probably has a ‘Thou shall not kill on Christmas Day’ policy.
Christmas was always a quiet period for me. My father wanted me to be more girl-like and my mother wanted nothing more than to spoil me…

So they’d shower me with toys but I didn’t have a brother, sister or friend to share them with. I never much liked girls toys anyway.
I melted my Barbie doll. I couldn’t stand that fake smile the manufacturers put on her face…
Those dolls teach six year olds to air-kiss and say: “Yah, call me. Let’s do brunch”. Burn Barbie Burn!

Yet G.I Joe’s came with a Kung-Fu Grip and a ‘Don’t eff with me’ face. Why couldn’t my father get me one of those?
I wonder what Michael is doing for Christmas. He probably has a family somewhere. A wife, a little girl maybe. Most likely a little girl.
A family who know nothing of the killer that he really is.
It’s amazing that you can live with a person for years and still know nothing about them.

Dear Santa… I’ll go to sleep now… But please put a ski mask, gloves, rope and an axe in my stocking. A gun would be too noisy. Amelia.


Christmas Day. Santa never gave me anything. Not even an axe.
I’ve spent the day inside child memories, trying to carefully pick out the good ones.
There are a few. Not many.
Life is a collage of moments placed sequentially upon a canvas called time. Without these moments memories would not exist.

My moments, my memories are wrought with discontent, but I find comfort knowing that someday all of this will make sense…
Someday soon.
I don’t know why I’m here. In this life, in this place at this time. I’ve never claimed to have any answers. But I do know one thing…

Whatever the meaning if life is, I’m sure we’ve all missed the point.

So I’ll continue my journey. I’ll continue this search, and even though it may cost me my life…

I’ll continue my pursuit of Michael Jeffries. The 29th can’t come soon enough.


I had three phone calls today. All from a blocked number. I answered each time but the caller never spoke. Just listened.
I could hear there was someone there. I thought someone was probably trying to trace my location, so I hung up at just under a minute.

Probably I was being over cautious but I’ve seen too many movies where that happens… And it’s usually following a murder of some sort.
And I’ve already had that episode.

Detective Saul sent me a text message later: “Are you safe?”. That was probably the most ridiculous question he’s asked me thus far.
I didn’t even reply.
I did venture down to the diner but it was closed. They must be on a Christmas break.

I wonder what Michael Jeffries got for Christmas?

Santa probably delivered him my order by mistake. We’ll soon find out I guess.
Still I wait.


This morning the diner was closed again with no sign of when they will be open. It will probably be at the start of the new year.
t’s funny how you can convince yourself into disliking a place and then realize how dependent you are on its existence.

I came back home and read a whole book. ‘Journeys Out Of The Body’ by Robert A. Monroe. It was on the bookshelf when I moved in.

It has an interesting title so I never threw it away. It’s about astral body projection.
I don’t know if it’s true or not but that kind of thing has always fascinated me. I found it an interesting read.

Then something odd happened…
I thought I heard someone trying to open my door. Maybe not trying to open it, but I could have sworn I heard the faint sound of keys.

So I called out: “Hello? Who’s there?”… And nothing.

I looked through the keyhole and saw no one, so I opened the door. Nobody was there but a man walking a few yards up the road.
I came back in and phoned Saul, but his phone went straight to voicemail.

I know I heard something. I know someone was there. I don’t think it was Michael, or I wouldn’t be writing this now.

Where are the voices when I need them?

The world is a bully. When you are weak, it kicks you down… and when you are strong, it wants to be your friend.

I am not strong, but tell the world to keep kicking… for I will not move an inch.


One more day until Michael Jeffries comes back.
For all I know he may have come back already, but I don’t see a reason for him to lie about his return. He just wanted the ring back.
Then again…

Killing someone is difficult… Lying about it afterward is the easy part.
I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks. I know I’m not going to sleep tonight.

Judging by what tomorrow may hold, I should be much more terrified than I am. I don’t understand it.
This should be the woman in jeopardy, damsel in distress moment. After all, I watched him KILL someone.

But all I keep thinking about is what’s going to happen to him.

I’m going to try and get some sleep… But tomorrow, I’m looking for a confrontation.


I woke up at 10am. I must have had no more than 2 hours sleep. I kept thinking someone was at my door but nobody was there.
Then my phone kept ringing from a blocked number. Whoever was there kept hanging up when I answered.

About the fifth time it rang a voice said; “Amelia”. It was Michael.

“I’m back. I am coming for the ring… And you”.
He hung up. This was 2 hours ago. No one has come.

There’s someone at my door!
I heard keys again. I looked through the keyhole and there’s a man standing there. He’s too close to the door to make out his face.
It isn’t Saul.

I have an idea. I’ll dial Michael’s number and see if it’s him.

It’s him!!! I can hear his phone ringing through the door. He looks startled. He’s not answering…
He’s trying to open the door!

I think he’s using a penknife to get the door open. I’ll hide in the living room. I was prepared for this.
I’m behind the door. If he comes in here, I’ll get him before he gets me.

I have a knife.

He’s in my apartment.

He’s walking really slowly but I can hear him.

He’s opening the living room door. I’ll attack him from behind as soon as he enters.


He came in and said; “This is the end Amelia”.
I came from behind him… and slit his throat.

He staggered over to the couch… he’s laying there bleeding out… trying to breathe.

I knew it was going to come to this.
I knew it would end like this.

He’s still alive… just.

Who am I?

My name is Amelia Sparks…

And I have just killed Michael Jeffries.

As soon as I laid my head down to sleep the voices came back.

That was the first full night sleep I’ve had in weeks.
I’m sitting in my living room looking at Michael Jeffries. He is still here.

He is ice cold. His skin has turned a pale blue.
I don’t know what to do with him. I’m half expecting him to get up and leave.

The voices are telling me to call Saul. I will do so.

I’ve just called Saul and told him what happened. He said he already knew because Michael didn’t return to his apartment.
He’s on his way.

Funny thing. Saul wasn’t startled in any way. He just told me not to move the body an inch. I said that I don’t intend to.
I’ve taken Michael’s phone though.

And I’m holding on to the ring.
He should be here by now. What’s taking him so long?

Saul just called to tell me he’s going to come when it’s dark! Why did he tell me that he was on his way earlier? Why do people do that?

Detective Saul Emmanuel only got here a couple of hours ago. The corpse of Michael Jeffries was sitting in my living room for over 24.

The first thing Saul said to me when I opened the door; “Did you use a knife or a gun? A knife right? That’s more your style. Where is he?”
What happened to all of that; “There’s a line you do not cross” business?

He made sure the street outside was clear then made me help lift Michael into a silver Mercedes van.

Then he asked me: “Where’s the ring?”
“What ring?”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot Amelia”

I couldn’t readily remember if I’d told him about it or not, but I denied all knowledge of it nonetheless.

What I couldn’t understand was the candid and nonchalant way he took the murder. It doesn’t make any sense.

He put the body in the van, came back in and looked carefully around my apartment. Said he was looking for “mistakes”, but I knew better.
He wanted that ring.

I’ve had the ring in my pocket since Michael Jeffries first told me he was coming for it.
Saul was irritated. He told me he’ll contact me in two days, at which point I should; “Level with him”… Perhaps he should level with me!

I don’t know what he is going to do with Michael’s body. I didn’t even think to ask.
Why did the voices return upon my killing of Michael Jeffries? They keep telling me to remain calm. They don’t realize how calm I am.

I feel no different then I did yesterday. Killing Michael just makes me know it can happen again.

The voices scream that the future is going to get worse before it gets better. They’ve never been wrong before. Whatever the future holds…

I know it has something to do with the ring.

Come on voices…
Let’s go to sleep.

New Years Eve. I expected something grand to happen. Instead all I had was a head full of voices and unshakable imagery of Michael’s throat.

I never heard any word from Saul Emmanuel.
The voices kept repeating the sentence; “With your every decision, they seek to bury you underground.”

They’re telling me not to trust anyone. But they’re preaching to the choir. I didn’t even trust my parents.
I held the ring practicality all day. Examining it. I don’t know what I’m looking for so I feel at a loss.

I can’t ask Saul because he doesn’t know I have it.

There are so many questions I want answered, buy I’ve no one to ask them to.
Perhaps I should have tortured Michael Jeffries instead of going for the quick kill.

I’ll find a way of getting more information out of Saul when he gets in touch. I’ll have to, or this is a dead end, plain and simple.

To Be Continued via @TheBullitts

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