My father didn’t want me to be alone at the apartment while he worked. So he hired somebody to look after me, and that somebody was Mr. Sherman Wells. Mr. Wells was the kind of man who didn’t go out as much, so when my dad asked him about the job, he agreed in a heartbeat.
Mr. Wells lived in apartment 32A down on the first floor. He was an older man, possibly in his 50’s. He wore thick glasses, sweaters all year long, black/gray slacks, and black loafers. And to top it all off a red bowtie. His pale skin went nice with the salt and pepper stubble on his small chin.
The first night my dad left, Mr. Wells, and I were sitting on the opposite ends of the couch staring awkwardly in front of us not knowing want to do or say. Breaking the silence, “So what do you do for fun, Mr. Wells?” I asked.  “I like to collect hair. I have a whole book of them. All kinds of hair; blonde, red, brunette, and black the list goes on… Oh my, my Jeremey what lovely, brown hair you have… so silky and straight… May I touch it? ” replied Mr. Wells looking up at me with glazed eyes, and slowly moving his hand towards my head. In shock and utter disbelief I looked up at him with an uncomfortable face. Reading it, Mr. Wells dropped his hand and didn’t speak a word until my dad got home later that night.
“So how was it? What you guys talk about?” asked my dad in a pleasant tone. “It was fine. We didn’t talk about anything really. Just sat around watching TV.” I said lying through my teeth. “Oh okay.” Said my dad dropping his work bags on the ground. Going to bed that night was hard, I asked myself, ‘What type of man collects hair for fun? Whose hair was it? Why did he have it? Why did he want to touch my hair?’ I tossed and turned all night restlessly.
   That next afternoon my dad was getting ready for work and then the phone ringed. I picked it up. “Hello.” I said into our wall phone. “H-Hello? Is this the Scott residence?” asked a quiet voice on the other line. “Yes, and who is this?” “It’s Mr. Wells, you know from down in 32A? Jeremey? Is that you?” “Oh yea, hey Mr. Wells. What’s up?” I asked. “Tell your father I’m sorry and that I can’t make it tonight or any other night, I quit-“ then he hung up the phone in an instant. “Who was that on the phone Jeremey?” asking my dad with shaving cream on his face coming out of the bathroom. “Oh-uh that was Mr. Wells… He told me to tell you that he quits.” “What? Why” “I don’t know dad...” I replied, hanging up the phone.
“Are you okay with staying here with Tina, Jeremey?” asked my dad opening the front door. “Yea dad. Go on.” “Okay she’ll be down in a minute okay? And remember, my phone number, pager and emergency number is on the fridge if there’s anything wrong. Bye. I love you.” Said my dad walking out the door.
Tina was a little older than me, a teenager actually, so I was really excited for a teenager to watch me. Tina was in my mind the coolest person ever. She wore band T-shirts, skinny jeans, wild socks, and converses all the time, and her long black hair matched her make-up. The doorbell rang. I leap up from the couch and ask, “Who is it?” “It’s Tina- open up!” said a familiar voice from behind the door. I open the door to Tina leaning up against the door panel on her phone. ‘God she was cool, tonight’s gonna be awesome!’ I thought to myself letting her into the apartment. “So what do you want to do? Play checkers, Monopoly, Scrabble?” I said strolling behind her as she continued to look down at her phone. “Oh. You talking to me? Hm. How about you stay out of my way little runt. I have business to tend too.” She said. “So why are you here if you didn’t want to watch me? What kind of business?” I asked. “I’m just here for the money your daddy is paying me. What kind of business? It called MY business K? So buzz off...” she said sitting on the couch, face locked on her phone screen. Seems like Tina didn’t want to have anything to do with me, so I went downstairs to Mr. Wells’ apartment she wouldn’t notice anyway.  
It was dark going down the steps to the first floor. When I was outside of his apartment, I put my ear up against door. “GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE RUNT! COME HERE!” I hear coming from inside the apartment. Something breaks, a vase maybe, thuds coming from inside the apartment. Then all was silent. “Mr. Wells?” I said in a quiet voice. I knocked. No answer. I knocked harder. No answer. I banged on the door. “MR. WELLS!” I shouted. Finally he opened the door. He looked disheveled and uneasy. “Hey, uh-uh Jeremey.” He stuttered while fixing his glasses. “What’s going on in there, I heard some noises. Everything okay?” I asked. “Oh yea-yea everything fine and dandy in here. Just had to kill a rat.” He said in a high voice. “Oh okay.” “And for the other night with the hair-sorry. I was way out of line. Would you like to come in and have a cookie?” he said. “No thanks.” “I insist.” He said grabbing my hand and pulling me into his apartment. I walked in to find a girl my age on the floor with blood coming from her torso, and a hunk of her hair missing. I turn around to find Mr. Wells in front of the locked door, fiddling a knife in his hand. He said to me, “I still think you have beautiful hair Jeremey, mind if I have some? I need some new samples for my hair collection… any volunteers?”