The Trust

The Trust

I don’t know who to trust anymore. It seems that all my life, I’ve been given hope on a silver platter, just to have it taken away before I can even get a taste. The waiter, the whole restaurant, would be... lost as soon as they came. I’m used to that.

         It seemed to me that John, my friend, could always be trusted. But, one day, last night in fact, he betrayed my trust. I finally shared my secret with him, why I am even here, in this town, and he... got lost. He just left me. His wife always hated me. That was always going to be my downfall. She would be the death of me, and that was that. She always called me The Trust, like I actually trust anyone. She became lost as well. Of course, I knew, lost or not, she would be the death of me.

         It was about an hour after my closest friend became lost when I saw an arrest warrant on the TV. That little reporter, who seems to be lost already, said these words, the only words I can repeat, my friends, on the monitor, “An arrest warrant has been issued for a man simply known as The Trust, for the murder of John and Mary Tasserfield, and many others.”

         I knew it. Right then and there, I knew it. She was the death of me. I was lost to time, in that moment; I knew that it was the cops that knocked on the door as my death waited for me. That is how I came to be here. But, I implore you to see reason. These people are not dead, but lost; I have taken them to the only place they can be trusted, the basement. Search.