First of all: Hello to everyone who reads that. I don't mind if you believe me or not just from the beginning, I just want you to listen to what I need to tell you first. You can deceide at the end. So let's start.

Have you ever been to a psychiatrist? I've been there a couple of times and last time I finally got my diagnosis: Schizophrenia. Also I got some pills that should eleminate it, but they need time to be effective. I got these two things just a few days before my vacation trip to America started. Oh, excuse me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Jonathan, born and living in a western european country.

Anyways, I put my pills and my other stuff into a suitcase and went on the trip. The flight... well, it transported me to the place I wanted to, that's all I expected by a cheap flight and so it was. To be honest, I just did not want to spend more money than I really had to. So I rented a car and you can imagine: It was very cheap. It resulted to be a big mistake that I won't do ever again. Another thing I spent money on after I landed in America was a knife (but just a pocketknife, cheap as well of course) (not just because I knew I would have to leave it in America before entering the airport again). I had to buy it because of a litlle kind of paranoia I didn't tell my psychiatrist of. I'm kind of into true crime stuff and started more and more thinking “What would I do if I was the victim?” and stuff like that. This resulted in the mindset that I have to carry around a pocketknife everywhere I go so I could defend myself in danger. I was pretty dewy-eyed, I was thinking of winning every fight with just a little pocketknife. Pocketknife vs gun, pocketknife vs axe, pocketknife vs baseball bat. In my imagination I won in every situation with just a pocketknife. I'm sure you're smiling just like me right now about how dumb that is.

So that was my situation. Me, a tourist, with some pills and a pocketknife in a rattly old car, driving the american streets without knowing where I would be at the end of the day. That was what I wanted from that trip and what I understood of the “american freedom”. This is what I wanted to be my holidays in America.

The first night I slept in a tiny motel I luckyly found by driving random streets in a tiny town. I don't remember the name of the town nor the name of the motel. I ate at a diner on the other side of the street and started the next day pretty excited as my “adventure” should be going on. Maybe you can already imagine what I couldn't. At the evening of the next day I was driving the way to a beautiful forest as the engine started making weird sounds. One minute later I stopped there, near to the beginning of the forest, with a dead engine.

“Shit.” was all I could think of.

“Get out there and have a look at it.” Fred said. Excuse me, I just forgot to introduce Fred to you. He was the reason I got my diagnosis. He is a guy, about my high, with dark hair that reached his jaw and green eyes. He never introduced himself so I had to give him his name.

I searched for a flashlight in my suitcase and went out of the car with it. I opened the engine hood and I had no clue what I expected to see. Just the stuff a car needs as far as I know. Of course I know how to check the oil, the water and the tire pressure. But that's it. I had no idea what else I could look up there.

“Make a step to the side, I'll have a look” Fred said. As I had no better idea I did what he wanted me to do. I forgot that he was just my schizophrenia, so I held the flashlight everywhere he was looking at. After a couple of minutes he finally said that we need tools and replacement parts. Even today I can't tell you where he got that knowledge from.

As it would have been a pretty long way to the next road that's used regularly by cars and I never bought a mobile phone, I tried screaming and kicking the car instead. If you want to know, it didn't help the car but it did help me. Fred watched me until I finished. I sat in again and took some minutes to calm down and think of the situation again. Just a few seconds before I would have left the car for the walk to the next road, Fred stared through the back of the car and said “Watch out. Someone's coming. Not good.”

I was wondering how it could be “not good” and left the car. Fred did the same. A car came straight our direction. As it came closer I realised it was even older than the car I rented but obviously that one still worked. Also I could not see any danger coming from that guy in there.

“'Ey!” he should. “Wha' 'ou doin' her'”. It was hard for me to understand him as he spoke very unclear. This guy was little bit shorter than me, but he had a pretty big stomach and a dirty, old tanktop. On his head with the blond, short, curly hair, he wore a very old and outworn cap in white and blue. His blue eyes focused on me and didn't see Fred who stood now right beside me.

“I'm sorry.” I answered in the best english I learned in school. “My car just broke down. I think I need tools and some replacement parts. Could you be so nice to take me with you to the next shop?” He stared at me.

“He kinda looks like a Larry to me.” I thought.

“So let's call him Larry. He won't say us his name if you don't ask. And if you do so he would lie.” Fred answered and I trusted his words. Don't ask me how he can know things like this. I don't know either.

“Ah.” Larry finnaly replied. “Kno' wha'? I've some a' 'ome.”

“He's going to get out.” Fred said this with his cold voice, staring at Larry. “Make a step to your car and look him straight into his eyes as he walkes by. Stop smiling at him.”

As Fred said, Larry went out, I made a step to my car while looking him straight into his eyes and he passed by. Larry looked in the engine hood just like Fred did. After a short while full of “hmm”, “ahhh” and “mhm” he made eye contact again. “Ha. Kinda shi' 'ou go' 'ere. 'Ou won't r'b me, agh? Naw wi'h tha' ca'!” Then he laughed like it was the funniest thought he ever had that I could try to rob him. I didn't laugh or smile at all.

“Aight, I ca' take 'ou wi'h me. Come, hop 'n”

“Could you please take me to a store?”

“I ca' bring 'ou all 'ou need. Next sto'e is waaaay long 'way. Woul' be nigh' 'ill I come ba''. Wi'' 'ou stay ou' 'ere? Wi'h 'he wild anim'ls? 'Ere ar' bears ou' 'ere.”

“Shit, he has a point. It's going to be dark soon and we don't have any other options than him.” Fred said.

“So I'll trust him??” I asked and he replied instantly “No! No! Keep an eye open and get away from him as soon as possible.”

Getting in Larrys car was the last thing I wanted to do but I had to. So finally, after I spend some seconds on trying to convince myself that I have to be brave now, I got in there, my right hand holding my pocketknife in the pocket. A part of me knew I had low chances of defending myself with this little knife against him. The other part in me said that it was all I had.

We drove without saying anything. 4 Eyes, mine and Fred's, never let the driver a moment unwatched. I can't say for sure how long it was. Maybe it was half an hour, maybe it was one. At the end we got there. A old, decrepit house out of wood. Also there were 2 barns, or maybe even a 3rd, I could not see it clearly in the dark. Some lights were on, so Larry wasn't the only one out here.

“Most likely brothers, maybe even parents. It's not presumably that this kind of man has a wife and kids.” Fred analysed.

“As long as his wife isn't his sister.” I tried to make fun, but for Fred the situation was too dangerous to be joking.

“Not presumably, but out here not impossible. Watch out.”

“Ah, 'ere we ar'!” Larry said and smiled. “I 'ave it all in tha' shelter!” he pointed at the first barn and killed the engine. He got out of the old car without hesitate.

“Watch out, that kinda looks like anticipation on his face. That's not good. Absolutely not. Danger alert!” Fred concerned.

“Understood. I keep my eyes as much open as I can.” I replied. Than we, me and Fred, followed him with a bit distance.

Larry opened a simple lock, wich seemed to be made to hold the doors closed if the weather gets stormy, but not to hold back thiefs. “They feel pretty safe out here” I inferenced.

“They do. They do that for a long time if you look at how old that lock is. Watch out for guns. This is America, not Europe. Laws are different here and people who live far away from others can't just call the police. They deffend their property by themselves.” Fred added. I made a step into the barn. No trap. No self fiering gun against thiefes. Just a whole bunch of old stuff. Larry kinda said the truth about the barn, because a lot of tools lied around there. Some were hanging on the walls, some were just thrown on the floor, some were orderly discarded on benches.

“Tools for the work with trees. No wonder in a forest. Some for gardening. There are a few I can't tell what they are for. Not good” I didn't even think for a moment to ask where Fred knows most of the tools here from. Larry went forward with a handlamp through some old car and motorbike parts to the back of the barn.

“Here are some tools for mechanic works. 2 Shotguns are hanging on the wall. Crossed as decoration. Beside them 1 Revolver on each side. This could be a trick if they are loaded. Easily reachable if thiefs come in. What irritates me are the lamp over there” -he pointed at a little lamp on one of the many benches in this part of the barn that seemed not to belong to all the mechanic tools, but more to an old-fashioned house- “and that knife over there.”

“Where?”

“Between these tires and the ratchet wrenches” I didn't know the tooles but I saw the tires and under a cluster of tools wich were apparently these ratchet wrenches I saw the point of something that could have been a knife.

“Are you sure, that's a knife, Fred?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe he or someone else ate lately here.”

“And leaves nothing but the knife? Also, that seems to be a filleting knife. Who would use that for normal eating? No one! High danger now! Prepare to handle real quick!”

“Nice lam'” Larry said while holding his back to me and Fred.

“Did he say lamb or lamp? Lamb could have been his lunch, a reason for the knife.” I said to Fred.

“Not for a filleting knife. Lamp could refer to the lamp I mentioned. Have you seen its material?”

“Or are we the lamb? That would be an announcement to kill us!”

“Don't panic! You stay focused on Larry. I'll have a look at that lamp.” I didn't reply anything to Larry. I just stayed focused like Fred told me to do.

“ATTACK HIM!!!” Fred suddenly screamed.

I was confused. Should I stab him with my pocketknife? The filleting knife is out of range. Should I punch him against his head? Fuck, help! I let the pocketknife out of my hand in my pocket and freezed for a second.

Enough time for Larry to turn around. A rope in his hands. His hands were near my throat. Fred gave ma an order without telling. I don't know how. I grabbed what Fred saw hanging next to me. I used all my strenght. I bumped it into his stomach. He screamed out loud but now he pressed the rope against my throat. After that, I tried a second attack with whatever was in my hands. Larry screamed out even louder as the peak of it cut through his skin. The pressure lowered. I held my weapon in the air. Without concern I bumped the rusty, now also bloody, crowbar against him. I hit his shoulder. In pure panic he slaped my face with one hand. He was stronger than he looked like. I tumbled a few steps.

Before I realised, Larry jumped against me with his full body. Anyhow I managed to hit him with my elbow on the back of his head while falling down. Or was ist the site? We crashed against a shelf, not far away from the guns. Glas bottles, screws, rags and a ton of other stuff fell down with us. The guns all fell down, too. I lied on the ground for a second.

“That!” This command was enough from Fred to let me know what to do. I grabbed what he ment.

“A torque wrench” he added. I smashed it right against his head. At least I tried. I hit his back. Larry screamed again and rolled to the side.

“Gun!” Fred shout. I went to the guns, luckily the opposite side than the one Larry was.

“Wich one?” I shout.

“None! All not loaded!” That wasn't Fred.

“One with one!” That was Fred. And clear. One gun got one shot loaded. Makes sense. For a quick reaction to a thief. But who said “none”? Larry? So did I ask loud? Impossible. Me and Fred don't talk in english, we're just tourists here, so he couldn't have understand anything.

“Wich?” I asked again. Fred pointed at one of the shotguns. I grabbed it. I rolled around. Larry kneed, not far away. I aimed roughly. I tried to shoot. I gave my finger the order to pull the trigger. My finger didn't move at all.

Larry smiled as good as he could after these attacks. Fred kneeed next to me. He held his hand above mine.

“Die, motherfucker!”

I closed my eyes. No recoil. No sound. I opened my eyes two seconds later. A little bit of smoke came out of the barrel. No Larry. Nothing. Fred stood right next to me. I got on my knees. That was not Larry in front of me. Not anymore. That was a big cluster of flesh. A lot of blood. Nothing that resembles to a face anymore. Just bones and flesh. I nearly vomited. Nearly.

“Shit... Shit!... SHIT!!”

“It's all good now, buddy.” Buddy? That was the first time Fred called me like that. I calmed down.

"That was Larry, wasn't he? He replied! How?!”

“You asked “Welche?”(Wich one?)” Fred answered. “Then Larry said “Keine! Alle ungeladen!”(None! All not loaded!)” “Yeah, so? He spoke the same language as we. Without accent. How?!”

“I'm not sure. Maybe their family moved here and they still speak both languages.”

“Sounds logical. Shit, what was that shit. Ahhhh.” I needed a short brake before I asked “Why did you want me to attack him?”

“Later. We got no time right now.” He suddenly replied. “Search in Larrys pockets for a purse or something. Maybe a picture or anything.”

I did what Fred ordered. “Here, I found a purse! A driving license!... Larry was actually Anton. The last name really sounds like they moved here. They-”

“Shut up!” Fred shout. “Are there pictures in there?”

“Here's one between these Dollars... Got it! Look at that!”

“Just this one?”

“Just this one.”

The picture showed Larry- sorry, Anton and another man. Both had one arm around the other one. They stood in front of the house. In the daylight you could also see all three barns and a very small 4th one really close to the house. In the darkness it looked like a part of it.

“Look at the similarities” I said. “The eyes, the noses, the ears,...”

“They could be brothers. Maybe just stepbrothers. Not as likely as the first option but possible. Maybe even cousins... no, no I don't think cousins. The similarities are to big”

“So Anton has... had a brother. What now?”

“Someone turned on some lights before we got here, did you see that? On the picture in Antons wallet is only one picture with just one other person. Antons brother is still here. It would be a miracle if he didn't hear anything of the fight. At least the shot... he has to have heard it. Caution! It's not over now. I'm pretty sure he liked his brother but doesn't like us.”

“Ok, so what to do now?”

“Weapons. You need something to defend.” I looked around. The bloody crowbar. The rope. The filleting knife. The torque wrench. The guns. All unloaded now. Sadly there were no ammunition in Anton's pockets.

“No need and time to search for ammo.” Fred said. “It's not presumably that there is any here.” I grabbed the rope and the filleting knife.

“Good idea.” Fred said. “Here's a back door but go to the front door first.” I ran over there and knew that me and Fred had the same idea. I layed on the ground an had a quick look out of the door. A light moved from the house to the barn.

“If he has a gun, it would be a safe death to run now.” I told Fred. I quickly tied the rope around the haft of the knife instead of running. The other end got tied at the nearly closed door. The rope went around two or three nails in the wall so it got strained and I left the knife on a timber on the wall.

“Trap ready.” I said.

“Now go to the back door!” Fred supervised me. “And take the crowbar. The lock looks rusty and we got no key.” So I did. On the way I also grabbed a screwdriver and took it in my pocket. I took a screw wrench, too.

As I reached the door and let the screw wrench fall down to set on the crowbar I suddenly heard Fred saying “”Pssst!” I held my breath.

“Anton?!” Another, deep voice came from outside. “'Ou 'ave a guest?”

“Shit. Hurry up. Break it as fast as possible!” Fred shout.

The wood snapped and curved. Shit. Our plan included me to open the backdoor fast.

“Use your weight!” came from behind me. I threw myself against the crowbar and the lock seemed to be nearly broken.

I heard a sound like Antons brother kicked the door open followed by an “AHHHH!”. But I had no time to be happy about our trap working.

I tried again to break the lock. While doing that, I thought about why they used nearly no lock on the front door but locked the back door like that. I still don't know for sure today. Maybe it was really just extremly rusty.

“ANTON!!!!!” I heard a scream that expressed a deep disbelief.

“Did you see their face? Maybe that's not Anton!” Fred shout back, knowing he won't be heard by Anton's brother, and laughed.

I took a look to the side as the lock finally broke under the pressure. I saw a face. Not that fat like Anton's face was, but not skinny, too. I saw nothing in the eyes, that were blue, too, but insanity and furiousness and hate. I looked down and saw an machete and a fresh, clean cut on his left tigh. “I hope you bleed to death, son of a bitch!” I shout at him in my mind. I took the screw wrench again and then stepped out of the barn without having a single thought about dangerous animals out there. Fresh air, but no time to enjoy it. I ran but as I did the first step, my left leg started hurting.

“The loss of adrenaline.” Fred commented. I didn't know when exactly I hurt my leg. Maybe when Anton jumped against me and we crashed against the shelf. After a few more steps the pain in my leg was too big to concentrate like I should so the crowbar in my left hand raveled in a bush. Seeing Anton's brother in the barn's door, I deceided that the crowbar isn't that important. “Run, Thorsten is coming!” Fred added to my thought.

“Thorsten?”

“Anton's brother. He looks like a Thorsten.”

“Fine. I wanted to run away anyway.” But my sight decreased. As it would have been not hard enough as it was night, my leg seemed to be harmed harder than I thought.

“Ah!” a short scream could be heard and I just looked to Fred, who stood a few meters in front of me. “He fell over your crowbar, haha!” He laughed. I smiled but suddenly the earth seemed to start rotating way faster than normal. Lieing on the ground one second later I still held the wrench.

“Come, get up quick!”

“I can't!” I nearly cried. “My leg!”

“You have to! He comes for you!”

I rolled over on my right knee. I grabbed a stone and tried to stand up. I failed. I saw Thorsten just a few meters away. I switched the weapons in my hands and threw the rock at him. I hit. Maybe at the chest or the shoulder or somewhere in that area. I wanted to take the screwdriver out of my pocket. It wasn't there anymore. I was shocked. I needed that weapon.

“There!” Fred pointed near the place I fell down before. There it lied. I grabbed it without problems. I felt that the adrenaline was rising so I tried to stand up. It worked as long is I mostly used my right leg.

“Back!” Fred shout and I did a step back without thinking. I nearly fell but I didn't really care, Thorstens machete didn't hit me by just a few millimeters. In a bad movie he would have cut some of my hairs in slowmotion by that.

“Jump!” Fred's next order and the next thing I did. I jumped at Thorsten like his brother did just a few minutes ago. I think I hit Thorsten at the jaw with the wrench by that, but I'm not sure. As we lied on the ground next to each other, he hold the wrench right above his head, just as I did. His other hand went to my throat but I was faster. I steered the hand with the screwdriver to his face. I didn't care where I would hit him exactly, just anywhere in the face. Maybe I luckily hit his eyes. This would explain how he screamed and instantly used both hands to cover his face. By that, the wrench fell down and hit him on the side of his head. He didn't seem to care. He was already crying.

“Kill him!” Fred shout! “He's still a great danger”

Thorsten roll over so he (unintantionally? I'm not sure) covered my weapons. I couldn't choke him to death, that was for sure.

“Your pocketknife!” Fred just screamed.

He was right. I took it out and opened it with both hands. Then I used my left hand to touch Thorsten's face. Hopefully he would concentrate on that. So he did. I pressed the knife on his throat. I just wanted to end this nightmare. My hand didn't move. It didn't move at the most important moment AGAIN!

“AHHHH!” I shout by blank frustration and fear. I felt Fred's hands around my arm with the knife. There was a moment, maybe half of a second, that nothing happened.

I felt nothing, I heard nothing, I thought nothing.

“Die, motherfucker!”

Then Fred just pulled my arm with a strength I never felt ever before or after that. A gargling scream came to my ears. Thorsten rolled over in pure fear of death.

Like a deadly wounded animal. Because he was nothing but that. A deadly wounded animal. I stopped hearing his screams and watching him die as some of the blood of his throat landed right in my mouth.

I vomited.

I needed a minute or two.

“It's over. It's done now.”

I were never that happy to hear these words ever before. I cried out of happiness to survive. “Thank you, Fred. Thank you.”

Fred helped me to find a stick, big enough to let me walk as the pain in my left leg started increasing fucking high. I avoided having a look at the dead body, the second person I killed in my life. Well, technically I didn't kill anyone. Fred killed two people. Fred saved me. I didn't pull the trigger and I didn't cut that throat.

Fred navigated me to the road I just drove with Anton that evening. We followed it back to my car and back to the roads. While walking we talked about what happened and I asked Fred some questions.

“How did you know wich gun in the barn was the loaded one? How did you know one was loaded at all?”

“Did it suprise you?” He asked back.

“No, sometimes you know stuff. I often don't know how you know but now I ask. How do you do that?”

“There are some things you should never know. The answer to this question is one of these. I have this ability and it always works. That's all you have to know, trust me.”

“And why did you want me to attack Lar- Anton?”

“Do you remember that lamp we mentioned?”

“The one you scrutinized? Yes. What's the point?”

“As I took a closer look... Do you remember as we watched that documentary about Ed?”

“Wich Ed? You mean Ed Gein?”

“Yes... Ed Gein. Also we watched that one about Ilse Koch?”

“Yes... yes, of course.”

“Do you know what the connection is?”

“They... They had furniture and decorations out of human skin and bones and stuff like that. Well, at Ilse Koch's case it's not sure if that's true or just a rumor. You won't tell me the lamp was a human once, will you?!”

“I can't be sure at 100% as I never had something like that, but I am at 99.9”

A moment of silence.

“The lamp included human skin. Maybe that's what that fileting knife was used for. At least I'm sure you would be furniture by now if you would not have killed them. I saw nothing else but this one but maybe more of that sort is in their house or the other barns. The police will have a look. You can be proud. You stopped two insane killers and survived. That's nothing everyone achieves.”

“An achievement I would be super happy to be without, too.”

“Well, you can't deceide. But that's why I am here. I am your support. Your safety is my resbonsibility.”

“Wow. Thank you, Fred. Without you, I would be dead now. I don't know what to say but thank you.”

Luckily someone held on the road we arrived after some hours of walking with a damaged leg and just a stick. Luckily no animal attacked us. The woman who held drove me to the next hospital where I told a short version of this and they informed the police.

The doctor found a lot of different wounds like a multiple fractured leg, a lot of splinters of glas in my left leg, some of them quiet deep, and some other, not that interesting, harms. He said, he can't explain, how my leg can be that damaged by what I told him. Especially the broken leg he mentioned.

The police knew these people. Anton and Karl Brunnhausner were their names. Their family moved just a few generations ago to America but never had much contact to other familys. Both brothers are dead. One was found in the barn -cause of death: Gunshot in the head- the other one in the forest not even 100 meters away, with a cut in the throat and blood and my vomit all over his head. The lamp in the barn really consited of human skin. So were three other furnitures in the house. The police found out by DNA that the brothers made these 4 things out of at least 6 people. They're still today not sure if there was a 7th one, too.

If you're asking about my medicine, I have to tell you that I threw away the meds. Officially I'm still diagnosed with schizophrenia, but Fred isn't just my schizophrenia. I can't belief that after all that happened. He is something else. He is here to protect me. He saved my life. Why should I try to get him away? But in fact, should I try to find out, what he is? Do I need a therapist or a priest or something else? Can you help me to find out what my protector is?