Lucy didn’t make it back to my loft last night. I didn’t get much work done on transcribing the interview because I was too busy drinking vodka and jumping at every little noise that presented itself. The cops are back. I’m starting to feel paranoid. All these years dealing with Jesus and friends and I haven’t felt like this. You’d think being around people who want to drain you of your blood would be enough to produce these feelings, but nope. I must have a thick head, that or what is said is true, it is what you don’t see that freaks you out the most. Fuck this. If she isn’t back tonight I’m leaving this loft.