Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Y/N!” you heard someone call out breathlessly over the bustling noise of the busy station.

You whipped your head back to see Mavis, your best friend of 10 years, jogging towards you. Her large dark curls bounced rhythmically on her head with every step she took. God, you’d missed her. She slowed her pace as she reached you, giving you an exasperated smile.

“Hey-" she panted, taking a moment to catch her breath. She hunched over with her hands on her knees as she composed herself. “-You.”

You let out a sharp laugh. Mavis was probably the worst runner you'd ever met, her mile time in high school coming in at a whopping 15:21. But she had still run to see you. You felt a surge of joy run through your chest at the sight of her breathless form.

 “Hey you," you mimicked, "Good there bud?” you asked, cracking a toothy grin.

“O-Oh yeah,” she said, pulling herself back up, “I’m something of a track star if you couldn’t tell.” she joked, still breathless, “I a-actually,” She stopped again to catch her breath, “Just finished an 8k run. It was easy- obviously,” she said, with a nonchalant shrug.

You laughed again, pulling her into a big hug, burrowing your head into her mess of hair. Oh, how you'd missed her sarcastic, deadpan humor. She mirrored your action, nuzzling her head into your neck with a soft giggle.

"I missed you…" you murmured.

"... I missed you too." she whispered back.

 You pulled back from the embrace, glancing behind you. 

“....But… let's get going, our ride is about to take off,” you told her, nodding towards the quickly moving flow of people streaming out of the doors of the trolley. Even in the evening, the trolley was a chaotic mess. The two of you weaved through the busy crowd, and when you finally reached the trolley, you and Mavis made your way to the very back, like the cool kids you were. You followed her as she seated herself in the last booth seat on the far right.

“So where do you want to go first?” you asked, plopping yourself down on the seat next to her.

“Oh I don’t know... the night is still young… If we want to go hit up some bars eventually, maybe we should go eat first, drinking on an empty stomach is sort of bad,” she murmured, with a small shrug, as she scrolled through her phone in search of a place to eat, the phone's light illuminating the lenses of her rectangular glasses.

“Pft. Whatever” you scoffed, rolling your eyes dramatically, “Worrywart.”

 Mavis’s mom had always believed that a single drop of alcohol without some food in your stomach to soak it in would lead to disaster… and Mavis had adopted that same fear, to a lesser extent. You could tease her a bit about it now and then, but you couldn’t complain. Who were you to reject the prospect of some extra food every time you went out?   

As Mavis continued her search for a place to grab food, a comfortable silence settled between the two of you. You’d known her for long enough that feeling awkward from a bit of quiet would just be stupid. But unlike all the other times you’d seen her, there was an elephant in the room. A reasonably sized elephant. You didn’t mind it, but you could tell it was working away at Mavis. After she put her phone down, you began to notice her restlessly fiddling with her fingers, and shaking her leg, and when you saw her take in a breath, you could guess what she was about to say.

“... Is there something on your mind?” you asked as casually as possible, feigning ignorance to spare her a bit of embarrassment.

“I-I’m really sorry I never reached out after… y-know,” she blurted out, still erratically fiddling with her fingers. You sighed. She was talking about your mother's death. It had been about a month since then… she hadn’t contacted you that entire time. No texts, no calls, nothing.

“I g-guess I’d just never experienced anything like that before," she explained in a tight voice, "I didn’t know if anything I could say or do could comfort-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting her off, bringing up a hand, “...I’m not going to lie, yeah, it kind of sucked,” you said, with a shrug, “But I understand... what’s important is that we’re hanging out right now,” you said, giving her a pursed smile. You placed your hand over hers, “It’s alright.”

She shook her head, lips still downturned in a tight frown, “N-no it’s not, I wanted to-”

“Hey.” a raspy voice interrupted.

You and Mavis quickly whipped your heads to the next booth where the voice had come from. You were met with a man lazily slumped over himself, but he quickly straightened up when he saw you looking at him. As if that made him look any better. He had greying, receding hair, and his face was covered in unkempt, shortly-shaven facial hair. He looked like he could be your dad’s age. He wore wrinkled business attire that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks… And if you didn’t know any better, you would say he was a bit tipsy, just judging by the way he held himself. 

“... Hey...” Mavis replied slowly, uncertainty dripping from her voice.

“How old are you two?” he asked Mavis, with a shit-eating grin on his expression. Red flag. No person who isn't a creep asks two random young women that question from the get-go. With a small grunt, he pulled himself up from his seat and started walking to your booth.  Is he going to try to sit with us?

“17,” you quickly interjected.

Mavis whipped her head towards you with a quizzical expression on her face. God, she wore her heart on her sleeve. You’d have to berate her for that later. You flicked your eyes back to her own.

Just go with it.

Her eyes widened in realization as she caught onto what you were doing. This guy was easily pushing 40, and if he had any sense in his skull, the idea of trying to fuck around with some random minors should scare him off. It really should’ve.

“Oh, sick. So where are you two headed?” he continued, without skipping a beat. He dropped himself down in the seat across from you guys.

Shithead .

“Ah, we’re not sure yet,” Mavis replied through a nervous chuckle. The fact that he hadn’t backed off even under the impression that the two of you were minors had clearly rattled her, understandably so, “Deciding as we go.” she blurted out, a bit too quickly, laughing a bit too hard.

“Mind if I join you, wherever that is?” he asked, inching closer to where Mavis sat. You noticed her stiffening. You tugged her in closer towards you.

“Not interested.” you droned.

He shot you a dirty look, “Oh come on” he drawled, leaning in far too close to your face. “Don’t reject me so quickly...” he said in a low voice, newfound malice dripping from his tone. "I asked nicely, didn't I?" he purred into your cheek. You felt Mavis trembling under your fingers.

He was beginning to show his true colors. Bile rose in your throat as you felt his hot breath on your skin. This was disgusting. He was disgusting.

“Go kill yourself,” you said dully.

He cocked his head, “...What?”

You cocked your head back at him, mocking his confusion.

“Did I fucking stutter? Go find some tall building-” you paused, “- Or maybe a nearby bridge, and take a swan dive off.”

Mavis placed a gentle but firm hand on your arm, “Y/N...” she urged, in a half-whisper.  

You shook her hand off your arm, eyes still glued to the man. You were done trying to be patient. God forbid you get one day off with your friend without some dipshit all up in your business. You placed your hand on his chest and gave him a hard shove, sending him backward. 

“And back up. Your breath smells like shit.” you spat venomously.

The man stared blankly at the floor, processing the situation before him. But his confusion didn’t last long, his expression quickly warping into one of rage, his entire face going a bright red.

“Where the hell do you get off telling me that?” he growled, lurching forward again. He shot out his hand, gripping your wrist tightly under his large, sweaty hands. Mavis let out a quiet shriek, hands flying up to cover her mouth. He whipped his head back to her.

"You better shut up," he said, in a low voice. She snapped her mouth shut. Bottom lip quivering in fear.

You stared down at the meaty hand that held you with a blank expression on your face. You weren’t an idiot. You’d known that this was a possible result of your sharp tongue. You knew that you were weak and that if he tried to overpower you, he could probably do so. But you didn’t care. You were selfish, willing to purposefully put yourself and your friend in danger just so you could indulge in your frustration.  I’m sorry Mavis...  You looked back up at the man. Wow, he really was pissed, the purple veins at the temples of his forehead looked as if they had minds of their own, wildly pulsating at a pace you didn’t even think was possible for a human being. Men were so emotional.

You glanced back down at your wrist, your mind racing for a solution that could at least keep Mavis out of trouble. You raised your brows slightly at the sight of his hand trembling. Maybe he was weaker than you’d anticipated. Maybe you actually had a shot. It would take a lot of effort for him to restrain you, judging by that. You didn’t doubt that he could… he was still a grown man after all, but if you tried fighting him off, Mavis could at least run and get some help… you could probably hold off till then. You shifted in your seat, preparing to lunge forward. Your heartbeat was slowly but surely rising, you could begin to feel it in your ears. Mavis’s face shifted into one of horror as she realized what you were about to do. She slammed a firm hand on your chest.

“Y/N-”

“What's going on here?” a deep voice interrupted.

The three of you shot your heads up to a tall man in a dark red flannel, peering over the situation. With him came the strong stench of cigarette smoke… which made sense, as he had a lit cigarette hanging lazily in between his lips. Your nose involuntarily scrunched as you smelled it. You’d always hated the scent of cigarette smoke, and losing your mother to lung cancer only made the scent just that much more bitter. He had a shaggy head of dark hair, front strands coming down leaving a shadow over his dark eyes. He was by no means unattractive, but everything about his face seemed a bit… hollow. As if he never slept. He flicked his eyes back to you, and you felt your breath hitch under his gaze. 

“Nothing,” the older man spat, not even sparing him a glance, “Mind your own business, punk,” he growled, his grip tightening around your wrist. You winced in pain. You wanted to say something, but the words were caught in your throat. Not because of the hand around your wrist, but because of the new man, oddly enough.

With the older man, you could sense his humanity. It was disgusting… he was a vile human being, but that vile nature only made it ever-present in your eyes. With the new man something seemed off, but it wasn’t a quality you could easily place. The way his dark eyes leered over the precarious situation with complete indifference sent a shiver down your spine… But either way, if he was here to help, you didn’t give a shit about whatever the hell he was dealing with, you were going to accept it with open arms. You shot him a desperate look.

Help me.

He blinked at you, expression unchanging, before turning back to the old guy. 

“Punk?” he asked quietly, “I think you could afford to be a bit nicer to me,” he said, with mock offense in his voice.

Finally, the older man whipped around to get a look at the guy standing behind him. His eyes widened a bit… he clearly hadn’t been expecting a man that much taller than him… there was at least a ½ foot between the two men. You could tell by his expression that he was rethinking his choices, but his foolish pride wouldn’t allow him to falter, either.

“Why the hell should I do that?” he asked, dangerously. But if you weren’t mistaken, you heard a slight quiver in his voice. He was beginning to get nervous.

The tall man let out a heavy sigh. “Alright then.” He jerked his head to the right, releasing a deafening crack. Mavis grimaced. She’d always hated the sound of bones cracking.

Before you could even process the movement beginning, the tall man shot his hand out towards the older man's head. Clenching onto his hair with an iron grip, he slammed it forward into the back of the seat with a resounding  thud. Your eyes widened in shock as you felt the entire booth shake. Mavis let out another quiet shriek at the contact, the loud noise that had come from the man's head. You squeezed her hand tightly, shooting her a quick, assuring look, despite the fact that you were about to piss yourself. You felt your hand being released, and you let out a small gasp, as you quickly pulled it back towards your chest. The two of you both stared dumbly at the tall man, unsure of how to react to the raw display of power he’d just shown you. He wasn’t looking at either of you, his eyes still locked onto the older man, as if he was making sure that he would stay down. He did.

You flinched a bit as he turned back to you, an odd smile on his face. You weren't sure of what to say to him… Should you say thank you? You felt somewhat obligated to, but if you were being honest, this man terrified you. You did appreciate the help to an extent, but you hadn’t expected a total KO from the guy. You glanced over to the now unconscious man in front of you. He was still breathing… but he was out cold. You tore your eyes away from his limp form and swallowed, preparing to speak. 

“...Thank yo-” you began, shakily.

“This is your stop, right?” he cut in, pointing a lazy finger up to the sign. The bright, blinking letters on the electric sign read DOWNTOWN .

 Mavis nodded her head rapidly, still too shocked to form proper words.

“Alright then,” he said, quickly turning his back to the two of you. He followed the flow of movement out of the trolley at a lackadaisical pace. It was strange to see it, him walking in such a carefree way after literally knocking a dude out. You released the breath you’d unwittingly hitched in your throat as he grew further from you. You were beginning to feel safe again. But just as he was about to board off, he turned back at you, looking you dead in the eye. The world fell silent as he said his last piece before leaving you, your heartbeat painfully obvious in your chest.

“See ya, Y/N.”

Chapter Text

************************************************************

You’re back in your old house. You're curled up under the living room table… you're small enough to fit in there somehow. You’re crying loudly. Why were you crying? ...Oh. Your hand was bleeding. The cat had scratched you again. She didn’t like you very much… she really didn’t like anyone except for your dad. You stopped to catch your breath, but as soon as you saw the steady stream of bright blood flowing through the inside of your palm, the tears quickly welled in your eyes again.

Looking back, it really didn’t hurt that much, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding, and you were only 7. It was your first time seeing that much blood. Was blood supposed to look like that? It looked like it was… squirming. Through your cries, you heard the front door open. It was your dad. He was back from the store.

“Y/N?” he called, “Y/N, where are you?”

You quickly scampered out from the bottom of the table, whimpering quietly.

“H-here,” you sputtered out, wiping the string of snot from your nose.

“Whe- Oh,” He looked down at you, his brow furrowing in concern. He knelt down to your level, “There you are sweetie, why are you crying?” he asked, tousling your hair softly.

“R-Ruby, she scratched me...” you sobbed, as you pointed an accusatory finger to the large tabby cat sprawled across the couch. She paid you no mind.

He glanced down at your bleeding hand, brows raising in surprise, “Oh, let's take a look at it, then,” he said quietly, as he gingerly grabbed your hand. 

He pulled out a wipe from his left pocket, swiftly tearing it out from its plastic package. He'd been a very sanitary man. He always kept anti-bacterial wipes in his left pant pocket, just in case. He began cleaning away the blood, but as the wipe came in contact with your cut, it sent a sharp sting running up the inside of your hand. You let out a small yelp, quickly pulling your hand from his grasp. You started crying again, leven ouder than before.

“It hurts, dad!” you wept, “It really hurts!”

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, “It’s not that bad, sweetie, so please stop crying, we’ll get it patched up-”

But you didn’t stop. The blood had really scared you.

His face fell into a more sorrowful one at the sound of your crying, “Please, please stop crying.” he begged desperately.

But you still didn’t stop. As he continued to try to assure you, you continued to cry. He was beginning to look angry now... but you didn't notice that.

“Stop crying right now. You’re hurting my head!” he ordered, voice rising to a shout. 

And still, you didn’t stop crying.

Your dad clicked his tongue, tossing the bloody tissue down on the ground in frustration. He grabbed your cheeks with his large hand, jerking your face up at him. You stared at him, teary eyes wide.

“Hey...Do you want me to kill myself?” he asked, dully.

Your cries stopped, “W-what?” 

“Do you want me to kill myself?” he repeated.

You shook your head rapidly, bottom lip trembling, “N-no, I don’t want you to-” 

He released your face from his hold, moving his hands down to your shoulders. He rubbed your shoulders gently to comfort you. You felt safe again.

“Okay, good,” he murmured, his calm returning to him. He took off his glasses, and began cleaning them methodically, “...But when I hear you crying and crying, it makes me want to, sweetie,” he explained, softly.

You swallowed, “Oh...”  You felt guilty. You didn't want your dad to leave you.

“So be a good girl, and don’t cry so much, please.”

You began to slow your breathing down to a normal rate. Once you felt you had regained your composure, you looked back up at him with a weak smile on your face.

“Okay.”

************************************************************

(So basically, the reader got scratched by the cat, and she was bleeding quite a bit. Her father walks in and tries to comfort her, but quickly gets frustrated when she won't stop crying, and threatens her with his suicide if she doesnt stop. She quickly stops crying, and her father praises her. It's also mentioned that her blood is moving in a peculiar way, and that her father is a germaphobe.)

____________________________________________

Your eyes snapped open at the sounds of a loud car horn from outside. Usually, you slept through all the noise of the city, but you had been sleeping restlessly that night. You shot up from your bed in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. The tears that had pooled in your eyes quickly fell down your cheeks. You slowed your breathing, running your hand on your head. What a shitty dream, you thought dismally, as you wiped your face with your sleeve. You didn’t often dream about your lovely dad, but when you did, you found it difficult to fall back asleep. Should I get up?   You slowly flipped over to your side and reached over for your phone on the bedside table to check the time, only to realize as you pressed the power button that your phone was in fact, dead. You clicked your tongue in frustration as you turned your head up to the window to try to guess the time from that instead. Judging by how dark it was, it was still early morning. You lazily rubbed your eyes, back into flopping over back into your warm sheets.

After the incident at the trolley, you and Mavis did your best to try to push it out of your minds, and continue the night worry-free... and once the two of you got some alcohol in you, it proved to be a fairly easy task. The fact that the man had known your name and destination was a bit mortifying, but after some deliberation, you chalked it up to him simply overhearing the conversation you and Mavis had beforehand. Considering that he had been able to overhear the older man threatening you, it wasn't the wildest possibility out there. Still strange... but you tried your best not to think about it too deeply. 

So the two of you quickly forgot about the two weirdos on the trolley, and enjoyed your long-awaited reunion carefree. You’d even managed to snag a cute goth girl's number at one of the bars you’d visited. So to be honest, that old guy could’ve rocked your shit on the trolley and the evening still would have balanced itself out in your book. A small smile graced your lips at the thought of perhaps going on a date with said goth girl, but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself. You ended up heading back home around two, Mavis's boyfriend Ben had come to pick her up, and was kind enough to drop you off on their way home. 

With a low groan, you pulled yourself out from under your blankets, setting your feet on the floor. Your head throbbed a bit, so you were grateful that you didn't  have to deal with bright morning light blinding you. You groggily made your way to the kitchen, letting out an obnoxious yawn. It was probably in your best interest to go back to bed, but you didn’t usually act in your best interest, so oh well. You grabbed a can of espresso from the refrigerator, grimacing as the refrigerator light illuminated your face, then plopped yourself onto a kitchen stool, and began staring out of the window. 

Your apartment didn't have a very good view, the large building across the street took up most of the space, and you could see the bright red and green lights of the intersection down the road from the corner of your eye. But when you grew up in the asscrack of Wyoming, anything that wasn't an open field was relatively interesting. You had a clear view of the sidewalk below, so you could see the residents of your building leaving and entering. Although, it was pretty unlikely you’d see many people, considering it was… you glanced up at the small hanging clock you kept in your kitchen, 4:06 am. You cracked open your coffee, and took a long, slow sip, letting yourself fall into a mindless lull of counting each time the traffic light colors changed. It was tedious, but it kept you awake… somewhat. You could go watch T.V, but your eyes were still throbbing a bit, and you weren’t sure how the light from the screen would fare for your head.

You continued to stare out of the window, bored out of your mind, until you noticed something that was slightly, slightly more interesting than changing traffic lights. Someone was heading towards your building, quickly, too.  A man on a mission, you thought in amusement.  You leaned in closer, squinting your eyes a bit to try to figure out if it was anyone you recognized… but it didn’t seem like it. Just going by their body frame, you would guess that they were a young man. He wore a dull yellow hoodie, with faded blue jeans. He kept checking his phone and looking back up at your building. You cocked your head in curiosity.  Is he lost? Did he know someone in the building? He could be a drug dealer or something...  Again, you racked your brain, trying to figure out if it was someone you knew, but again, you came up blank. His hoodie shielded his entire face, so it was pretty much impossible. You suppressed the urge to stick your head out the window and ask who he wa,s because revealing your exact address to a random man and possible drug dealer would be… very dumb. You knew better than that. 

You leaned back, taking another swig of coffee, and continued to watch him with a vague interest. He was mostly just checking his phone over and over again, pretty boring stuff. Maybe he was the paranoid type. After a while, he finally shoved his phone away into his hoodie pocket, and began heading towards the entrance.

I guess he figured out where he needed to be… took him long enough. With a small grunt, you hopped off the kitchen stool, and tossed your empty coffee can into the trash bin. You were finally beginning to feel a bit more awake. Awake enough to realize how shitty your morning breath was. Time to clean yourself up… you’d have to leave the house soon. Cringing in disgust, you walked over to the bathroom and began blindly smacking the wall in search of the light switch. After you clicked it on, you turned the small glass knob on the sink, cupped some water in your hands, and began scrubbing your face vigorously with the cold water. A shiver ran up your spine, the cold water woke you up even more. As you reached up to your mirror cabinet handle to grab the toothpaste, you paused to stare at your reflection.

You hadn’t been expecting to look great, but you hadn’t been expecting to look like complete shit, either. Sullen eyes, with harrowing eye bags underneath to compliment them. Your cheeks looked puffy… it was something that happened when you drank. You reached up to gently massage the centers of your cheeks, a weak attempt to relieve the inflammation. You grimaced at the thought of having to go to work today… but you didn’t have the luxury of taking the day off, so work it was. Hopefully, there won't be too many customers . With a frown, you began scrubbing your teeth.

After you were done making yourself somewhat presentable, you made yourself a large bowl of cereal and plopped yourself on your couch. It was around 5 am now, so you still had a good hour before you needed to get to work. That was enough time to watch an episode of the Great British Baking Show. Mavis had always made fun of you for liking it. She said it was a “Grandma show”, and while you couldn’t completely disagree with her, you still really enjoyed it. It was relaxing… the gentle music, the friendliness among the competitors, the relaxing ambiance- nothing like American cooking shows, they always had so much going on. Simply put, it was a comfort show for you, and Mavis could suck your tit.

“Good morning and welcome back, bakers. Now be afraid, be very afraid, because you're on Paul's patch as this week, it's bread week!

You raised your brows as your took in a large spoonful of cereal. How exciting.

Bakers, your signature challenge today is to create a flavored loaf which is free-form. That means not baked in a tin. You've got three-and-a-quarter hours. Tighten up the apron strings, wash your hands. On your marks… Get set…Bake!”

Suddenly, there were two sharp knocks on your door. With a startled jump, you nearly dropped your cereal, a bit of milk spilling onto your leg. You whipped your head to the door with a scowl on your face. You hadn’t been expecting anyone... and you certainly hadn't ordered aything. With a heavy sigh, you placed your bowl on the table, and headed to the door wiping milk from your leg with a napkin as you walked.

Was it the landlady Ms. Flemmings? She was a pretty paranoid woman, so she often dropped by to randomly accuse you of keeping a secret dog in your apartment… but never this early. You placed a hand on the door and peered out into the peephole, but there was no one there. Ding dong ditch? In this day and age? Was it someone's kid? As far as you knew, no one on your floor had children, and besides, who’s hellspawn child was up and running about at 5 in the morning? Slowly, you opened the door, poking out your head cautiously. You turned your head up and down the hall… but it was empty. Fucking great. You let out a huff and rolled your eyes in annoyance. Maybe you could file a complaint, but you highly doubted Ms. Flemmings ever actually read them. Just as you were about to head back into your room, you noticed something on the ground. It was a tiny paper card, but it was blank on the outside. Ominous, but okay. You leaned down and picked it up. You began to open it, eyeing it warily as if a toy snake was going to pop out when you did. There was small, scratchy print on the page. Oh, how you wish it had just tossed a tiny plastic snake in your face. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as you read the message inside.

If you’re going to watch me, I’ll watch you, too, then. 

Chapter Text

You crumpled the note shut with a small gasp. How had he seen you? You were on the 3rd floor, so he’d had to have craned his neck up to even begin to see you. You’d been watching him the entire time, you’d’ve noticed if he moved his head in such an obvious direction. If he actually hadn’t seen you, did that mean he simply knew your habits so well that he knew that you’d probably be looking out your window at that exact moment?

You felt a pit grow in your stomach as your mind went spiraling down a dark hole of all the different possibilities. Either he’d been watching you with great attention for a while, or he was some kind of freaky behavioral genius, and either way, it was bad news for you. You began to chew at the loose nail of your thumb pensively.

God, maybe you actually should’ve yelled at him and asked who he was. He already knew your exact fucking address. At least that way, you might’ve caught him by surprise and been able to get a clear view of his face…  Wait . You pulled your hand away from your lip. That actually wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe it wasn’t too late to try it out. If he left through the front entrance, you should see him walking by the sidewalk. It was a bit brighter than before too, the sun had begun to just peek over the horizon, filling your room with a pale glow.

You immediately dropped the note and raced over to your window. If you could get him to turn his head just a bit, maybe you could get something, anything that could help you find out who he was. You slammed the window open with a  thud , eyes wildly darting back and forth on the sidewalk until they fell on his hooded figure. 

There he was, almost just below your window. He didn’t look like he was in a rush to escape at all, walking calmly across the street as if he didn’t have a care in the world. You scoffed in frustration. Asshole. You tapped at the windowsill nervously as your mind raced for something, anything to say that could capture his attention, even just for a moment. An insult? A question? What would make him look your way? Whatever you decided on, you needed to decide fast. You took a deep breath.

“H-hey fuckwad!” You yelled, voice cracking a bit. A stutter and a voice crack right off the bat. Strong start, but you persisted, “Your handwriting on the was too shitty to read! I’m going to need another card!!” you continued, with a bit more confidence.

He stopped in his tracks, not turning around. Uh oh. He was thinking. You could feel your hands beginning to shake in fear, but you quickly stopped them, this was no time for that.

 It would’ve been more comforting if he’d reacted angrily, storming back up to your room to beat the shit out of you. But this proved he wasn’t just some hot-headed idiot that could be riled up with some cheap jabs… he put thought into his actions. You could’ve guessed that much already, but having it being confirmed was a bit mortifying. What if he came back up?

In terms of defense, you had a taser, pepper spray, and a yellow belt in karate… so you weren’t completely hopeless. But at the same time, you didn’t know what he had on him. All he really needed was a gun and it was pretty much over for you. You stared at him intently. Still hadn’t moved. The seconds he stood there were beginning to feel like hours in your mind, your heartbeat rising from your chest to your ears in anticipation.  Fucking weirdo. 

Finally, he began to slowly turn his head back up to you. A shiver ran up your spine, eyes widening in anticipation as you waited for him to reveal himself. But at the same time, it made you feel a bit powerless. Was he that confident that he felt that revealing himself wouldn’t even matter? But as he finally faced you, your face fell in disappointment. You were met with a black mask with a cryptic, red frown painted on it.  A fucking mask? 

“Shit!” you muttered, backing away from the window. You should’ve expected that, you got too carried away. All you’d managed to do was possibly piss him off. He continued to stare up at your window for a while as if the make sure you got a good look at him, mocking you, and then turned back around. You watched helplessly as he continued down the sidewalk, and turned the corner. Just like that, he was gone.  

You closed the window again. Even though he’d left, your heart was still beating insanely loud in your ears. What were you going to do now? Maybe you could stay at Mavis’s tonight, but how long would you need to? He knew where you lived. And depending on just how much he knew about your life, he might know where Mavis lived, too. You couldn’t put her in danger… 

You looked back at your T.V. The Great British Baking show was still playing, gentle voices and music came from your clunky T.V, but it didn’t bring you the same comfort it usually did. It was a comfort show, not a miracle-inducing one. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, separating yourself from the outside world, for just a moment. So much for a relaxing morning. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you’d calmed down a bit, your first instinct had been to call Mavis and ask her if you could spend some time over at her place, but after some more deliberation, you decided against it. If he really was dangerous, you wanted to keep him as far away from your loved ones as possible, and if he wasn’t dangerous, then there wasn’t even a need to go over. Maybe he’d visited the building for a completely different reason, and when he saw you peeking through the window, he decided to fuck with you… Your face fell into a grimace,  Yeah, right. 

Either way, you wanted to scope out the situation for just a bit longer. As soon as you deemed that you were in direct danger, you’d get help. You weren’t an idiot… you knew it was careless to keep what had happened to yourself, but at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to make the call. 

So instead you got dressed for work early, you put on a simple grey pantsuit, with a white button-up underneath, and some black slip ons. You worked at a tuxedo rental place, so the work attire was a bit more formal than most retail. You did some cute make-up to gain some false sense of control over your life, grabbed your keys, and headed down to the lobby to ask around for any information. The only person who had been there at the time was the receptionist, Vincent.

Vincent was pretty annoying to deal with. He was your typical moody 18-year-old, half the time he was high out of his mind on weed, and when he wasn’t, he was irritable and bitchy. Miraculously, he had yet to be fired, he’d somehow weaseled his way out of it by flirting with the landlady every now and then… it was pretty sickening to see.

You took in a deep breath, calming yourself down before subjecting yourself to a conversation with him. If you got snappy he’d probably shut off, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. You walked up to his small, messy desk, giving the small, dingy bell a ring. He flipped his head from the magazine he was reading and looked up at you with tired eyes.

“Hello Vincent, I have a question for you,” you said, in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Go ahead,” he said lazily.

You slid the note you’d received across his desk “About 40 minutes ago someone knocked on my door and left this in front of it. I need to know if you saw anyone strange entering the building.”

He grabbed the note, and as he read the cryptic message inside, his face turned into an uncharacteristically surprised one.“That's really fucking creepy...” he said, as he closed the note back up, “But I didn’t see anyone.” he said firmly.

You suppressed the urge to smack him across the head, “Are you sure? I saw someone in a hood walking in through my window.” you persisted.

“I swear, no one came in,” he piped defensively, “I didn’t see anyone!”

You rubbed your temples in frustration. You knew Vincent was incompetent at his job, but this was extreme disappointment, even for him. How he was capable of turning off his fucking eyes was beyond you. 

“Alright then,” you said dully, as you reached over to grab the note from him. So much for that. You stuffed the note back into your pocket and began to walk away.

“Wait,” he said, “I really didn’t see anyone, but if you want to look for yourself, I can send you the security footage from the lobby,” he said, pointing a bony finger behind you. You whipped your head back, following his finger. There was a clunky camera planted in the corner of the room. You’d never noticed it. Funny how you never notice certain things until you need them.

“It’s going to take a while to download,” he continued, “But I can get it to you in a few hours if you give me your email.” 

Maybe he’s not so bad, after all.

“...Okay. That sounds good, thanks.” You grabbed the notepad and pen he kept on his desk and quickly jotted down your email address. That honestly might’ve been better than anything he could’ve told you. Feeling a bit more optimistic about your situation, you left the building, and began to head to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You multitasked as you drove over to work, wheel in one hand, and phone in the other. You were submitting a police report over the phone. It was honestly a miracle you didn’t hit a pedestrian on the way there with how frustrated you were getting with the officer you were speaking to, who initially refused to admit that your situation put you in danger, adamantly insisting that it was probably just a “harmless joke”. But you persisted, and eventually, you’d annoyed him enough to get him to at least agree to create a file for you, and look into past cases for the man you’d described. Although you highly doubted it would lead anywhere, it couldn’t hurt, so why not?

Soon you’d arrived at work, “The Perfect Fit”. You walked up to the door and gave it a hard tug, only to be met with a resistant thump. It was locked. Grumbling bitterly to yourself, you fished around in your purse for your keychain, pulled it out, and unlocked the door with a small click. Your manager Stella should've opened, but she was almost always late... you'd have to bring it up with her when she clocked in... it was beginning to get annoying.

With a heavy sigh, you began getting everything ready, turning on the lights in the dressing rooms, and adjusting the displays, oraganizing the shoes... You’d worked here for about a year, and you liked it better than most retail stores. You didn’t get that many customers, and usually, they scheduled appointments for their fittings, so you always had an idea of what your day was going to look like once you arrived.

After you’d cleaned up a bit, you logged into the computer at the registration desk and checked your schedule for the day. It looked like it was mostly pickups for today, aside from one fitting appointment, under the name T.W… nice. You were already feeling stressed enough, knowing that you only had one fitting today was somewhat relaxing.

You shut off the computer monitor, staring at your reflection on the black screen blankly. It would probably be a while before any customers came in. You hopped up from your seat. Usually, you’d just zone out while you waited, but you didn’t want to be alone with your thoughts at the moment. You needed a distraction.  Maybe I should clean the dressing rooms...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After about an hour, some customers finally started trickling into the store, and you tended to them with the most energy you’d ever had while working, just grateful to be in the company of others again. Just as the schedule had said, most people had only come in for pickups, and you helped a few other customers pick out some ties, shoes, belts… things like that. Helping hopeless men figure out how to match their suits together in a way that didn't look atrocious was pretty much your entire job. 

The store was empty again, but unlike before, you were feeling okay with it. People will often underestimate how calm the presence of other people can make you feel, even if they're complete randos.

You sat at your desk, humming quietly to yourself as you deleted the old orders that had been picked up that day from the log. You didn’t remove your gaze from the computer screen as you heard the entrance bell ring. It was about 8 now…. That’s when the fitting appointment was.  Must be him. You stood up to greet the customers.

“Welcome to The Perfect fit! What can I help you with-” your mouth fell dumbly open as you looked up at the customers that had walked in.

One of them, you didn’t recognize, but the other one was a memory you’d suppressed... or at least, tried very hard to. The tall man from the trolley. He looked a bit scruffier than before… how the stubble on his chin could’ve visibly grown in less than a day was beyond you. This time, he wore a black windbreaker, and as always, the stench of cigarette smoke followed him. You tried your best not to let your distaste show on your expression as it wafted up your nose.

“Thanks- Oh. It’s you,” he said dully.

You nodded, “Yeah… nice to see you again.” you lied, a tight-lipped smile on your lips. You couldn’t say what you were really thinking, not while you were working.

“Sure… “ he said stiffly, averting his gaze to the side, “Sorry if I scared you that day, I was in a bit of a bad mood. My name is Tim, by the way,” he said quietly, as he extended a hand out. Did he seem… genuinely apologetic? This was unexpected of him. 

Ypu starred at his hand for a moment. A handshake?  It was a bit of an odd gesture, but you grabbed his hand gently, giving it an awkward shake. They were rough and heavily calloused. They suited him.

“Don’t worry about it…W-well anyways, what can I help you with today?”

He nodded to the man standing next to him, “My brother needs a tux for a wedding next weekend, could we get him fitted?”

Finally, you looked at the other man who stood by his side. He was a bit shorter than Tim, but he wasn’t small by any means, he was actually pretty lanky. Tim was just a monster. He had a pale, almost greyish complexion, contrasted by his bright brown eyes. He had a head of fluffy, unkempt brown hair, and a large bandage that covered most of the left side of his face.

“H-Hi.” he said, a bit louder than a normal “inside voice”.

“Hello,” you said, giving him a small nod, “And of course! Please wait here while I grab the measuring tools.” 

“Ah- and my brother has tourettes, is that going to be an issue?” Tim asked.

You rapidly shook your head, “Of course not, measuring is a pretty simple process...I’m sure you’ll be fine.” you said, turning to his brother with a small smile on your face. He gave you a toothy grin.  The two of them really don’t look alike at all...

”I’ll be right back…” 

“O-okay,” he said, with a small finger wave. You walked into the back room, grabbing a clipboard and measuring tape. Now that you thought about it, wasn’t Tim a pretty damning suspect of leaving that note in the morning? If he hadn’t heard you and Mavis’s conversation on the trolley, that would mean he knew your name and destination beforehand.

At the time you’d dismissed that possibility because you didn’t want to give in to paranoia, but with what happened that morning, you couldn’t afford to do that again. No one could get the benefit of the doubt. You took a deep breath… your breathing had been getting a bit fast without you realizing it. You’d prod him a bit while you measured his brother… maybe prod the brother a bit, too. Find out as much as you could about him. With a newfound determination, you returned to the waiting room, with a bright smile on your expression.

“Okay, let's get started, firstly, I’ll need a name for the tuxedo order,” you said turning to the fluffy-haired man.

“Toby R-Rogers.”

“Great… “ you said absentmindedly as you scribbled the name down, “Okay Toby, please take off your sweatshirt, and then I’ll begin the measuring,”

He obliged, quickly whipping off his sweatshirt, and tossing it obnoxiously into Tims face. Tim looked annoyed, but he didn't say anything. You took note of their dynamic with a slight interest. As an only child, it was always a bit interesting to see interactions between siblings... it was something forgein to you.

You began measuring his upper body. His ticks were pretty strong… They mostly consisted of flexing his arm and shoulder muscles suddenly, and sometimes he would pop his neck pretty loudly, but it didn’t interfere much with your job. Every now and then you had to readjust your hand or remeasure because your hand had been moved, but that was about it. Just as you'd suspected, they were no big deal at all.

“Okay, now for your torso… could you lift your arms, please?” you asked.

“Y-yes mam~”

You wrapped the tape around his abdomen, and you were about to write down his waist-length, until you noticed that the tape was sticking out a bit oddly on one end.

“Do you have something under your shirt?” you asked, pointing to the lump at his side.

“Huh?” he said, glancing down to where you pointed. “O-oh yeah, I have a bandage,” he said, as he lifted his shirt to show you. He had a large piece of gauze on his side, held up by sloppily placed medical tape. Your eyes widened slightly, at the sight of his bare torso.

One, the man was absolutely ripped, and secondly, he had a plethora of scars, big and small, littered over his body. You were itching to ask about them, but you decided to keep your mouth shut.

“Ah, I see. I’ll just take away an inch from your waist, then...” you murmured, mostly to yourself.

“Yeah, I c-cut myself up pretty bad th-the other day, w-wanna see?” he asked, with a wicked smile on his face, as he began to pick at the edge of the end of the bandage at his side.

You felt the blood drain from your face, and you quickly turned your head to the side, “O-oh, no thanks. I have a thing about blood.” you said through a nervous chuckle, trying your best to keep your customer service voice on. 

He cocked his head curiously at you, “A th-thing?” he asked.

You quickly nodded, gaze still turned down to your shoe, which had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world, “Yeah, I have hemophobia… It’s a fear of blood.” you explained.  Now put your shirt back down,  you thought, desperately .  You didn’t like to tell people about your hemophobia, but with his hand still lingering dangerously over his bandage, you hoped that telling him would be enough to stop him from peeling the tape.

He stared at you blankly, taking a moment to process your words. Suddenly, a switch seemed to click in his head, and the crooked smile on his face somehow grew wider, as he let out a sharp cackle, “R-Really? T-that’s f-fucking funny!” he sputtered out through his laughter.

God, it was getting difficult to keep your polite smile from dropping, “...Sorry?” you asked.

You’d always received a lot of different reactions when you told people about your fear, but no one had ever laughed at you. And so cruelly, too. You were meeting a lot of weirdos these days.

Tim gave him a small but firm smack on the head. Toby let out a surprised yelp, dropping his shirt back down, and you felt yourself relax again. “Don’t mind him. He has a weird sense of humor,” he explained. 

“Ah- Okay,” you said with a slow nod. But if you weren’t mistaken, you saw a hint of amusement in Tims's expression. Thank god you had a lunch break after this, you didn’t think you’d be able to deal with another customer after these two.

“...So are you two just in the city for the wedding?” you said, trying to move the conversation on as normally as possible.

Tim looked up from his phone bemusedly at you. He must’ve been surprised that you’d wanted to talk more after Toby’s little display, and normally, you wouldn’t. But you needed to squeeze as much information as you could while you had them there.

“Yeah… our cousin lives here,” Tim said dryly. 

“That's nice.” you replied, feigning interest, “Have you been doing a lot of sightseeing? There’s a lot of things to do, especially if you’re visiting.”

“Y-yeah!… We went to a cafe this morning!” Toby piped up.

Morning activities.  Excellent . “Oh really? Which one?” you asked, as nonchalantly as possible. 

“‘Black Lab Coffee’” Tim interjected.

“Isn’t that the nice one downtown?” you asked, bringing your voice up a pitch to imitate excitement, “How was it? I've always wanted to go but I’ve never gotten the chance.” 

“It w-was alright, b-but we went s-super early in the fucking m-morning because Tim wanted t-to avoid people, that sucked,” he said, shooting his brother a not-so-subtle stink eye, which was blatantly ignored by Tim.

Early morning?

“That’s smart. The city is fun, but even I get overwhelmed by how many people are here sometimes, and I’ve been living here for years.” you laughed, as you moved down to measure leg length. You were just about done with their measurements… was this enough information? You couldn’t think of anything else to ask them… and you’d already scored the jackpot by hearing about their morning plans. After they left, you’d sprint to your car and head over to the cafe they were talking about… hopefully the person you worked the morning shift was still there. 

“And.... we’re about done!” you said chipperly, raising yourself from your knees, “Your suit should be in the day before the wedding, all you need to do is come in that morning to pick it up.” you said, as you placed your clipboard back onto the desk.

“S-sweet!” he chirped, “I’ll see you around...” Toby stopped to squint at your name tag, “Y/N~” he cooed. Ugh, you hated it when customers called you by your name…especially customers that laughed at your fear of blood. He needed to leave, immediately.

“Haha yeah, see you around,” you chuckled.

“Alright… Thank you,” Tim said “We’ll be back soon.” 

He turned and began walking to the door, Toby following him close behind. The entrance bell rang as they exited the store. And just like that, they were gone. And you were on lunch. You immediately whipped your phone out and looked up the cafe Tim had told you about on Google Maps. It was fairly close. You needed to get going as soon as possible. As soon as you saw them drive away from the corner of your eye, you bolted out of the store, into your car, and began to head over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Traffic was absolute dogshit, so it had taken you longer than you’d anticipated arriving at the cafe. But soon enough you were there. You pulled open the glass door, and you were immediately hit with the sweet smell of vanilla and coffee. It was a pretty small place, but you could immediately tell upon entering why it was so popular these days. The ambiance was nice, everything was dark, the furniture, the walls, the decoration, but the room was lit up by hazy orange lights that made it all look dreamy. You would’ve normally taken a moment to appreciate it all, but you were on a mission. You could come another time.

You quickly walked over to the counter, where a petite young woman stood. She looked to be sound your age, with dark skin, and big eyes that looked a little scared. Her long braids were put up in a high ponytail… she was cute. You quickly dismissed the idea of asking her for her number, seeing as you had a stalker to deal with, and smiled as you came up to her.

“Hello, did you work the opening shift today?” 

“Oh, uh- yeah, I did,” she said with a nod, “How can I help you?”

“Can I ask a question about one of your customers?”

She shifted uncomfortably where she stood, “I’m not really supposed to talk about customers...”

“Please, it's really important!” you urged.

“I’m sorry, I can’t disclose any information,” she said, shaking her head. You clicked your tongue in frustration. Was she one of those stick to the book types that never broke a rule? Or maybe this was a new job and she was afraid of getting fired, either way, her irrational paranoia was going to make you lose the only clue you had to your stalker, and you weren’t going to lose her that quickly.

You shot your hand out and grabbed her hand. Not hard enough that it scared her  too  badly, but also not weak enough that she could shake you off easily. 

“N-no, please! It’s my younger brother…” you began. Time to pull an elaborate lie out of your ass, “...He ran away a couple of days ago with his boyfriend and-and we really need him to come home,” you explained, in a shaky voice. Damn, for coming up with something on the spot, that wasn’t half-bad. You just needed the acting to support it.

“He’s only 16. I just need to know if he’s still in the city…My friend said she saw someone who looked similar entering the cafe, but she was driving, so she couldn’t get a good look. I just need confirmation, please.” you begged, desperation overflowing from your voice. 

She chewed her lip in consideration, brow furrowed. She was thinking about it. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh, her face shifting into one of pity as she looked at you. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the smile that was trying to creep onto your lips as you saw her give in. Got her.

“...Alright then… What did he look like?” she asked, somewhat defeatedly.

You released her hand from your own, “Sort of lanky, messy brown hair. He has tourettes, and a big bandage on his face. His boyfriend is a bit taller than him, and he has big sideburns, and he’s really smelly- like cigarette smelly.” you quickly explained. “Did they come in today?”

She chewed at her bottom lip in thought, until you saw a lightbulb go off in her eyes, “I remember them… yeah, they did,” she nodded, “They were our first customers for the day.”

“Do you remember the time?” you pressed.

“...It was almost immediately after we opened, so around 5 am.”

You felt your energy deflate at her response. The cafe was a 20-minute walk from your apartment complex… the timelines weren’t adding up unless Mr. Frowny Face could teleport, it was impossible. That meant Tim wasn’t your guy. It was back to square one.

“Thank you so much,” you said monotonously. You were feeling too disappointed to keep the worried sister act up. “You’ve been a great help,” you said, with a weak smile.

She returned your tired smile, “No problem, I hope you find him.” she said. You could tell she really meant it when she said it. She was a genuinely nice person. You felt a pang of guilt go off in your chest for lying to her so blatantly and feeling so triumphant about it, too.

“Thank you, me too.” you said, quietly, “Have a good day.”

Chapter Text

After returning to work from the cafe, you attended your last shift with much less energy than before. It was hard to remain motivated after that. You were much too quick to get your hopes up with Tim. He was a weirdo, for sure, but he couldn’t be your stalker. 

But all wasn’t lost, you still had something to look into. The video that Vincent was supposed to upload for you should’ve been sent to your email by now. Something had to come out of that.

After you’d gotten off of work, you called the local library to reserve a study room. You knew an entire room to yourself wasn’t necessary, but if you could help it, you were going to spend as much time away from home as possible... and you also wanted to be alone for a while.

The library was nothing grand, but it was spacious enough to house around 10 rows of large cedar bookshelves, and the second floor was the same. The faint smell of old paper hit your nose as you pushed open the creaky glass door. The only sound to be heard was the quiet shuffling of feet and papers, and the low buzz that came from the old, clunky computers. 

Down the center of the room was a wide pathway so that guests could weave their way through the shelves, with various wooden tables, chairs, and couches for them to seat themselves. At the end of the room was the librarian’s wide desk, covered in books and other clutter. There weren’t many people there, unsurprisingly. From where you stood at the entrance, you only saw two other people. It was sad to see as someone who had spent a lot of time in libraries growing up, but smaller libraries were a dying aspect of modern culture.

You walked up to the wide desk, where the main librarian, Mr. Jensen sat. He was a thin man in his early 50’s, his sharp facial features covered in greying brown hair, and his long, wavy hair put up into a low ponytail. 

He had always been kind and helpful, especially during your university's midterm season, letting you stay a bit longer than other guests, offering you cheap coffee when he noticed you getting tired. You had spent a majority of your time holed up in his study rooms during the first semester. He was a really good man, a very relaxing presence to have near you. 

"Hi, Mr. Jensen," you said.

He whipped his head back up from the file folder he held in his hands, “Y/N! You haven't been here in a while! How’s school, hon?” he asked, with a toothy grin.

“It's been okay... I’m sorry I haven’t dropped by in a bit, I guess I just got a bit lazy with coming over here after the finals ended,” you chuckled.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Every student does that after a big test, I certainly know I did,” he said assuredly, letting out a hearty laugh. You smiled warmly at him, and for a short moment, all the stress and worry you’d been feeling dissipated. 

“Thanks, Mr. Jensen.”

“Of course- now,” he shot his gaze back down to the reservation log that sat on his desk. “You reserved a study room? Should be open now, so you can head on over," he said, pointing to the room at his left, "What kind of homework are you doing today?”

“Oh! I’m taking a film class, I have to analyze a movie.”

He cocked his head curiously at you, “Really? I thought you were an art major?”

You nodded, “I am, but this fills out a general education requirement I need, so I just picked out a random class.”

“Ah okay, well good luck!” he said, with a small wave.

“Thank you!”

You walked over to the small wooden door of the study room, shutting it gently behind you. Each study room was the same, a large wooden table with six chairs surrounding it, two old whiteboards with faint marker stains that never seemed to come out, and a janky old printing machine. You pulled the nearest chair with a low creak and sat down. You opened up your laptop, shaking your leg impatiently as you waited for it to start up, staring at the small rotating circle on the middle of the black screen as if your gaze would somehow make it load faster. 

When it finally opened, you immediately opened up your email inbox, eyes scanning the screen for a new email. In the last couple of hours, you’d received three, but if you had to take a wild guess, you would assume that the email from “ [email protected] ” was probably Vincent’s. Although you couldn’t completely disagree with the message, the fact that this was probably his only email was a disappointing thought. But regardless of the odd address, what really mattered was its contents. 

You quickly opened the file. It was about three hours long, and the quality was honestly better than you’d been anticipating. It was still somewhat blurry, but for the most part, you could see everything pretty clearly. You glanced up at the time stamp in the corner. It read 3 am. He would have entered around 5 am, so you began skipping through the first chunk of the video, side-eyeing the timestamp, only raising your finger from the fast forward button as you hit 5 am.

Vincent sat surprisingly upright in his chair, but something seemed off. Usually, when you walked by his desk, he had his head immersed in some corny magazine or his phone. He never just sat- he always had to have something to focus on. You honestly believed he'd never had thought behind those eyes. But there he sat, apparently lost in contemplation, staring blankly out into the space in front of him. You clicked the forward button to move past a couple of minutes, and he still hadn't moved... But you’d found what you’d been looking for. 

Your eyes widened as you finally saw the front door swing open, and Mr. Frowny entered the building. He didn’t have his mask on, but you could tell by his frame and the musty old hoodie he wore that it was him. You clicked the pause button, leaning in close to the screen. He had shaggy brown hair that was neither long nor short, just unkempt. He had a somewhat square face, all his features were very sharp, his nose, jaw, and chin… and that's about all you could gather from the video. You squinted your eyes a bit. The low quality was making it difficult to gather any distinguishable features. He was somewhat attractive, but aside from that, he looked like every other white man in the world- you couldn’t make out his eye color, or anything like that. Finding him would be difficult. 

You sighed as you clicked the play button, letting the video continue. He walked briskly to the front desk, hesitating slightly as he passed by Vincent. But still, Vincent didn’t move. Frowny came to a full stop, slowly raising a hand up to Vincent's face, and snapping his fingers. As you watched the scene before you unfold, something you hadn't considered came to mind. Was Vincent...  sleeping with his eyes open?  And upright? God, that was a different breed of human. You’d give him hell for that later. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, eyes still locked on the screen. You saw Frowny pull his hand back and laugh a bit, shoulders rising up and down slightly. You couldn’t blame him for laughing, who wouldn’t laugh in that situation? It was fucking ridiculous, the kind of shit that was only supposed to happen in cartoons, and it made his job just that much easier. You watched as he shoved his hand back into his hoodie pocket, and walked off-camera, and presumably into the elevator and up to your floor. 

You leaned back into your creaky chair, staring up into the ceiling with a furrowed brow. It wasn’t much, but at least you had a face to connect to your stalker. You’d have to turn in a description to the police after you finished up here… and after that… you’d go home. You blinked, sitting back up straight in your chair. You’d just remembered that you’d have to go home today. You’d managed to distract yourself until this point, but the reality was beginning to kick in a little bit. 

You pushed down the brooding thoughts that were beginning to fill your mind and turned your focus back to the screen. You fast-forwarded to him exiting the building… but there was nothing really to take note of there. Just the back of his dumbass walking away and out the door. But the video had been more helpful than you’d been anticipating. You’d sort of been expecting him to have his mask on the entire time, but he’d probably taken it off to avoid suspicion from whoever was  supposed  to be taking note of who was entering the building. You shook your head in disbelief again. Fucking Vincent. You’d never get over this mishap of his.

With a heavy sigh, you shut the video player and closed your laptop back up. That was all you were going to get from that. You slid your laptop back into your bag and began heading back to the door. You would call to give the police a description on your way to the store, you wanted to pick up some stuff to prepare for the long night ahead of you- you didn’t plan on sleeping. As you stepped out of the room, you were met with Mr. Jensen, coffee held in one hand, reaching out for the door with the other. He looked up at you in bemusement.

“Oh hey! I got you coffee,” Mr. Jensen said, “That was fast! What happened?”

“Oh- I just remembered that I have some stuff to do once I get home. Thought I'd get a head start... I don't have anything due soon.”

He nodded a bit, “I see," he chirped, "Well, do you want to take this with you?” he asked, raising the small styrofoam cup in offering.

You nodded gratefully, “Yeah, thanks,” you said, as you took the hot cup from his hands, ”I’ll get going now, thanks for the drink!”

“Alright- but before you go... are you feeling okay?” he asked, with a furrowed brow.

You cocked your head curiously. You thought you’d been acting pretty normal, but then again, he had always been good at picking up on little details like that. He was very empathetic, “Sorry?” you asked, a bit quietly.

“Well... you just seem sort of tightly-wound right now… is everything going okay with school?”

You quickly nodded, “Yeah yeah, it's fine. I’m just feeling a bit stressed with all the work right now…” You felt a pang of guilt run through your chest. You really hated lying to him, but more than that, you didn't want to worry him.

He hummed in thought, “I see, you’re a very smart girl, Y/N,” he said, “I know it seems stressful, but you’ll power through it!” he assured you, with a wide grin.

You returned a smaller smile, “Thanks a lot, Tyler.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You bid farewell to Mr. Jensen and began walking back to your car. You'd found some peace chatting with him, but you still had shit to do. The next thing on your to-do list was to stop by the store, to stock up for the long night ahead of you.

On the drive to Walmart, you called the police station again, to give them the description of your stalker. Thankfully, they put you on a call with a much more tolerable officer, and it was a very quick process, unlike your previous call. The success of the call left you feeling a bit more confident as you pulled into the parking lot of Walmart.

  You hopped out of your car, shivering a bit as you took in the cold air. How had the weather changed so quickly? You shoved your hands into your pockets, taking a shuddering breath as you walked over to the large automatic doors.

The first thing you needed was a carton of Bang. For some reason, coffee didn’t really do it for you in terms of energy… so you’d have to level up the amounts of caffeine tonight. To be honest, you thought Bang tasted like dogshit, but you weren’t trying to be picky about the taste. You quickly walked over to the beverages aisle, scanning the counters for a certain flavor. While you still held to the idea that all Bang tasted like ass, the Guava flavor was slightly,  slightly  better than the other ones. You let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. You weren’t finding it. 

“Looking f-for something?” you heard someone ask from behind you.

You whipped your head back to voice. It took a bit of effort not to let a grimace take over your expression when you saw him. It was Toby, somewhat hunched over where he stood, with his usual shit-eating grin on his face. You stared blankly at him for a moment as you contemplated how to proceed. If he was a one-time customer, you probably would’ve just ignored him. But until he picked up his order on the weekend, he could still complain to your manager. And you weren’t trying to get fired over something as stupid as that. You’d chat dryly with him for a bit, grab your Bang, and leave.

“Yeah. But I can’t seem to find it,” you said dully, as you turned your gaze back to the counter.

He cocked his head curiously at you, “W-what is it?”

“Guava Bang.”

He made no effort to hide the disgust on his expression with your reply, “ Bang ?” he asked in disbelief, “Y-you actually like t-that s-shit?”

“Yup. It's my favorite,” you replied, not skipping a beat, “But it doesn’t look like they have the flavor I like, so I guess I’ll have to buy it from somewhere else,” you said with a shrug, beginning to turn exit the aisle.

“W-well hold on, let's not g-give up so quickly!” he said, leaning in a bit too close to your face. 

Something you’d noticed about Toby was that he didn’t seem to have a firm grasp on what personal space was. He’d gotten really close to you at the tuxedo shop as well.  How annoying.  You didn’t like it when people got too close to you, even your closest friends. But he hadn’t done anything especially creepy yet, so you decided to put up with it for now. Maybe he just didn’t understand social cues that well.

“Do they have them anywhere else?”

“I’m n-not e-entirely sure,” he shrugged, “B-but they have another section with drinks over n-, over near the e-entrance,” he said, pointing a bony finger towards the checkout section.

“Oh...” Your eyes followed the direction of his finger, “That’s right,” you said, somewhat absentmindedly. You hadn’t thought of that.

The smile on his face grew, “I’m m-more helpful than y-you thought I would b-be, right?” 

“Mhm...” you hummed quietly. You looked back up at him with a small, awkward smile on your face, “Thank you.”

He nodded, “Alright, let’s go!”

“...Let’s?” you asked, “As in let  us? ”

He cocked a brow, “Trying to g-get rid of me?”

“W-well I mean, don’t you have your own shopping to do?”

He quickly shook his head, “Naw- I c-came here w-with Tim, but he said I was ‘u-unhelpful’, so I left,” he explained, a bit bitterly, “I d-don’t even know why w-we came!” he declared, with a strange sense of pride in his voice. 

“I see... alright then,” you said, as you lowered yourself down to pick up your shopping basket, “We can head over, then.” 

“G-great!” he piped, “Let’s go” he repeated, chipperly.

The two of you walked in silence towards the entrance of the store. You couldn't help but feel a bit awkward in the quiet, but the feeling didn't seem to be mutual. You glanced up at Toby, who seemed to be in his own world, eyes quickly darting from one item to the next as you made your way through the store. He didn't seem to mind the quiet at all, and you couldn't help but feel a bit comforted at that fact. Soon enough, you had reached the small refrigerator near the checkout section.

“Oh wow,” you murmured in mild disbelief, “They actually had it here,” you said, as you lowered yourself down to get a closer look at the price tag. 

They were two dollars each… The price value of buying a bunch of these was higher than just buying another pack, but in your eyes, it was worth it. So you opened up the small refrigerator door and began piling them up in your basket. Toby watched you with avid interest.

“P-pulling an all-nighter?” he asked.

“Hopefully not,” you chuckled, “I’m a student, and I’m taking a lot of credits this semester, so I end up staying up quite often, these make it somewhat bearable,” you shrugged casually, “What about you? Are you a student?”

“Me?” he asked, eyes widening as if he were surprised anyone would ever ask him that question, “No, I w-work with Tim, f-family business,” he explained, with a small shrug.

“Ah, I see,” you said, nodding. That sounded nice, having a plan to fall back on without worrying about school.

He nodded to your basket, “I-Is that all y-you need?”

“Naw- I have some other stuff to pick up, but thanks for your he-”

“Oh! What else, what else?” he said excitedly

“Well...” you began, unsurely. It was time to bend the truth, just a bit. It’s not like you could tell him,  “Yeah, I have a stalker to deal with. I’m going to hammer some nails into this bat, chug two Bangs, and pull an all-nighter, while I stare outside my window waiting for him to come.”

 “I need to buy a baseball bat for my nephew-” You said as you stood back up, lifting your basket with a small grunt. “It’s his birthday next week,” you added. 

You felt a bit bad lying to him so blatantly, but at the same time, it's not like you owed him anything… you had just met him that day. And anyway, according to Tim, they were only going to be here for another week at most, so you wouldn’t have to worry about your lies catching up to you any time soon.

 “And then I need a new video camera for my film class,” you finished.

“F-film major?”

You nodded firmly, “Yup.”

“R-Really...?” He took a moment, looking you up and down. You felt a bit small under his gaze… could he tell you were lying?  No.  That was impossible, you’d always been a pretty good liar. You spoke confidently, there was nothing that indicated you were being dishonest. And to top it all off, he hardly knew you. There was no way. 

Finally, he shook his head, “That d-doesn’t suit you,” he said, bluntly. 

That’s all?  You felt yourself calming down, and you gave him your customer service laugh, “Oh? And what would suit me?” you asked in amusement.

“Hmmm...” He stroked the faint stubble on his chin in mock thought, “M-maybe an a-art major?” he said, a bit more quietly.

You felt your heart drop, but you kept your cool. It was just a lucky guess, nothing to get worked up over, “Really?” you asked, somewhat playfully, “It’s interesting you say that, that was my second choice,” you chuckled. It was getting hard to keep yourself from getting nervous, but as long as he believed this last bit, all your bases would be covered.

“I had a question,” he said suddenly.

You raised your brows, “About what?”

“H-how can someone be afraid of blood?” he asked.

You observed him for a moment. He sure moved the conversation along quickly. The last time it had come up, he seemed to be mocking you, but now, he seemed a bit kinder. Like his question had come from genuine curiosity rather than cruelty.

 “Well...I don't think it’s completely out of the ordinary…” you began, trailing off a bit. No one had ever asked you this, so you struggled a bit with coming up with a proper explanation. The answer seemed obvious, “Blood is usually an indicator of pain, right? And no one likes pain,” you finished.

He hummed absentmindedly in thought, looking up at the roof as he considered your words. Then he looked back down at you, with a familiar, wicked smile on his face, “I wouldn’t know about-” 

“Toby!" A loud voice called from behind you.

You whipped your head back to meet the voice. It was Tim, standing not too far behind you, with a sour expression on his face. Your eyes shot down to his hands, which carried at least 7 large grocery bags stuffed to the brim with the shit he’d just bought. For the most part, it just looked like foodstuff, aside from that, you spotted gasoline, some cheap spiral notebooks, and a large pack of zip ties. It was all pretty normal stuff… for some reason, you’d been expecting a stranger array of items from him. But in the end, he was just a normal guy. You looked back up with him with a stiff smile on your face.

“Hi, Tim,” you said somewhat meekly. He didn’t scare you anymore, but for some reason, you felt like you’d been caught doing something wrong. As if you were a child that had just gotten caught trying to sneak candy before bed. He let out a heavy sigh, as he walked up to you and Toby.

"Sorry, he was probably bothering you, right?” he asked, in a tired voice.

"W-what the f-fuck do you mean b-by that?" Toby spat back, a newfound venom dripping from his voice. Your eyes widened in surprise. It seemed unlike him, but then again, you hardly knew him. Who were you to think that.

You firmly shook your head, “Not really, it was fine,” you assured Tim, hoping to deescalate the interaction.

To be completely honest, Toby hadn’t bothered you much, which was surprising. Perhaps his rudeness the last time had simply come from a lack of understanding, and although that wasn’t an excuse to be an asshole, it did make you feel a bit better about his character. Maybe you’d judged him too harshly, you tended to be a bit more quick with your evaluations of people when you were working.

He nodded, “Alright then," he said, turning back to Toby. You shot Toby a quick glance as they prepared to leave. He seemed to have calmed down from his bad reaction earlier... maybe he was prone to mood swings?

"I’m done with shopping, let’s go, Toby.” Tim said, nodding towards the exit.

Toby whipped his head back to you and gave you a small finger wave, “T-Toodles!” he called.

"Have a good night," you said, waving back. 

As soon as you saw them exit the automatic doors, you speed-walked around the store, searching for the rest of the supplies. First, you went to the sports section. You needed some type of defense, and this was the first thing you thought of that you could get your hands on easily. Your eyes glazed over the shelf that held the different types of bats... there were more variations than you'd expected. 

But as you were browsing, your eyes fell on a thinner, metal one on the bottom left.  Metal is good, right?  You pulled it from the shelf. It wasn’t too heavy, but also wasn’t so light. It would be wonderful for self-defense. 

Next, the electronics section. Maybe not tonight, but you had to sleep eventually, and when you did, you wanted a camera on you, just for good measure. The camera you picked out was pretty simple, about the size of your hand. You very briefly pulled up some reviews on its quality on your phone, and they all seemed pretty positive. 

After you double-checked that everything was in good condition, and was within a decent price range, you walked back up to the front of the store and placed yourself in line to pay for all of it. Thankfully, the line was pretty quick-moving, and soon enough, you stood across from the cashier, fishing your wallet from out of your bag, as she handed your items off to the bagging boy.

“Is this all?” The cashier asked politely, with an all-too-familiar customer service smile on her face. She was probably a new hire. Anyone who worked at Walmart for over a month didn’t bother trying to fake a smile as they checked you out.

“Yeah,” You responded dully. Usually, you would try to respond a bit more brightly to service workers, you understood their struggle. But tonight just wasn’t the night. You were tired, tense… a pit had slowly but surely been growing in your stomach ever since you’d arrived, and realized that the night would come, and you would be alone again. You didn’t have the energy to indulge in small talk. You silently handed her your card, and as soon as the transaction went through, you snatched your bags from the counter and began to head towards the exit.

“Have a good evening!” she called behind you.

You have no idea how difficult that would be.

You gave her a small wave, “Yeah. You too.”

*****************************************************************************************************

Chapter Text

The drive back home was somewhat stoic, as expected. After spending some time with the chatterbox that was Toby, your surroundings seemed more quiet than usual. You turned on some music in a vain attempt to distract yourself from your thoughts, but it was impossible to indulge in. The noise in your head was too loud to conceal. So instead, you just kept your eyes hard set on the road, trying to keep your mind as empty as possible.

 You didn’t realize how tensely you’d been sitting in your seat- how tightly you gripped the wheel, until you stepped out of your car, and felt all your muscles relaxing a bit. You took in a shuddering breath, releasing it slowly. Being anxious wouldn’t do anything for you, the situation was best to be approached calmly. With a small grunt, you pulled your groceries out from the back of your car and walked over to the entrance of the apartment complex. You shoved the door open with your shoulder, glancing around the mostly empty room. There were only two other people in the lobby, the old man who lived on the floor above you, banging the vending machine angrily as it withheld the chocolate bar he had paid for from him, and Vincent. The corners of your lips involuntarily moved downwards as you saw him. 

You chewed your lip in thought. If you talked to Vincent, you didn’t doubt that you would end up yelling at him, so you decided to keep your mouth shut for now. Not many people knew this about you, but you were actually a very short-tempered person. As angry as you were with him, you still thought picking a fight with him would be immature. As long as he didn't try to strike up a conversation, it’d be fine. You readjusted the bags in your hands, and quickly walked past his desk, not even sparing him a glance. But just as you made it to the end of his desk, he popped his head out from behind the magazine he was reading, setting it down to the side.

“Did you get the file I sent?” he asked, a bit too chipperly for your taste. You stopped in your tracks.  God Dammit.

“I did,” you responded dryly.

“Did you see anything?” he continued, clearly not catching onto your foul mood.

“I did,” you repeated.

Vincent stared at you silently for a moment, desperately trying to analyze what the expression on your face meant. He swallowed quietly.

“...Well...What did you see?” he asked, uncertainty now dripping from his voice. God, you knew he wasn’t trying to act oblivious, but it still irked you beyond reason.

“I saw the weirdo walk right past you,” you said quietly, eyes on the ground “Literally right past your eye line,” you continued, voice rising slightly.

Chill out.

 “What the fuck is up with that?” you snapped, shooting your gaze back up to him. So much for remaining calm. But his braindead demeanor was really pissing you off, “You sleep with your eyes open? What kind of goofy shit is that?” you demanded. "I wasn't aware you were on Looney Toons."

His eyes widened in shock at your sudden outburst, “Jeez! I’m sorry! No need to be a bitch about it, I just dozed off-” he began, defensively.

Your mouth fell open in offense, “A  bitch ?” you hissed, cutting him off, “Well sorry if I’m coming off a bit bitchy, Vincent, I have a stalker to deal with now.” you spat, through a bitter chuckle.

“Well-”

“Just zip it… If I hear another word from you I think I’m going to stab my own eye out,”

Vincent clamped his mouth shut dumbly as you stormed off to the elevator. You tapped your foot impatiently as you waited for the doors to open. God, it was getting impossible to keep your temper down with him. Maybe you’d talk to the landlady about him another day, although that probably wouldn’t do anything. You didn’t doubt that everyone in the building had complained about him at least once, yet here he still was. Like some type of little roach that you couldn’t get rid of. After what seemed like an eternity, the large metal doors slowly opened with a low creak, and you got on, pressing for the third floor. Thankfully, no one else was on the elevator with you, so you took the time to try to relax a bit. You had been trying to calm yourself down on the drive back from the store in preparation of facing your house again, but your emotions were all out of whack now. You shut your eyes tightly, taking in a heavy breath, and then releasing it slowly through your mouth.

Your eyes flickered back open as you heard the doors slide open, and you walked down the dimly lit hall of your floor, fishing around your jacket pocket for your keys as you made your way down. When you arrived at your door, you pulled the bat from the bag and dropped the rest of the supplies near your feet.

You stared blankly at the space in front of you. It was time to go back in. It was a more harrowing feat than you’d anticipated. You could feel your tongue going a bit dry at the thought of entering and finding someone in there, waiting for you.

You glanced down at the doorknob… no signs of a break-in, but you could never be sure. There was a chance that someone was in there. 

You took another deep breath as you tore the metal bat out of its packaging, gripping it tightly in your dominant hand. With your free hand, you slowly turned the key to your door, and with a small  click,  it was open. You hitched your breath, leaning in a bit closer to the door, searching for any reaction from inside, but there was nothing. Your heartbeat had been thumping loudly in your chest ever since you’d left the elevator, but now, it was apparent everywhere else, your ears, your hands, your head. You placed your hand on the cold metal knob, and turned it, slowly pushing the door open. Again, you paused, listening in for any reaction from inside, and again, there was nothing.

Feeling yourself relax a bit, you peeked your head through the small crack, eyes frantically darting all around the room as you searched for any signs of life. It was a bit hard to tell in the dark, but it seemed like no one was there. At least- not in this room. Your hand cautiously crept up the wall, and you clicked on the light switch. You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the sudden light. The room was empty. 

You let out a sigh of relief, bringing the rest of your body through the door, but you couldn’t completely relax, not yet. You still had 3 more areas to check, the kitchen, the bathroom, and your bedroom. 

Not wasting any time, you tightened your hold around your bat as you ran over to the kitchen area, leaning over the island to check for anyone hiding behind it. Empty. A warm, giddy feeling filled your chest at the sight, and you felt a bitter smile grace your lips as you lifted yourself back up, and turned to the next room.

The next closest area was the bathroom. You quickly walked over, slamming the door open, to find that it was empty as well. You lurched forward, and tugged your shower curtain open, looking into the tub. No one squatting in the shower. You took a moment to gather yourself again, taking slow breaths. Your chest was beginning to feel tight.

It was terrifying, running around your own home, checking every nook and cranny, with the possibility of finding a strange man hiding there. You were running purely on adrenaline. 

But at least now, there was only one place left to check. Your eyes flicked out of the bathroom, across the room. The bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, but it usually was, nothing out of the ordinary there. There were a few places a person could hide in there, behind the bed, under it, in the closet. You swallowed, rubbing your temples, attempting to calm yourself down. 

Just one more to go. Just do it.

You ran over to the bedroom, pushing the door open, sending a shudder through the room as the knob slammed into the wall. You shot your hand out to the wall, turning the light on, staring into the room. At first glance, it appeared to be empty.  Almost done,  you reassured yourself.

You lowered yourself down to the ground, legs beginning to feel a bit weak, to peer in under the bed. No one was there. And if there had been someone hunched over at the side of the mattress, you would’ve seen them. You pulled yourself back up, wiping your knees.

Every time you checked a spot and it turned out to be empty, a sense of security washed over you, but you couldn’t indulge in it yet, so you pushed it back down. You needed to stay alert.

With that in mind, you turned your attention to the closet. It looked bigger than usual. Opening that closet was something you had done mindlessly every morning, for the last three years. Who knew that it would become such a gut-wrenching task? You pushed down the lump that had built up in your throat as you had been staring at the doors in anticipation. 

It’s best not to think about it, right?

With that, you lunged forward towards the door, shooting one arm out to pull the handle, and the other shot up behind you, gripping the bat tightly, prepared to slam down on the heads of any closet squatters. You slammed the door open and looked in. Empty. You pushed your clothes around, peering deeper inside. Empty.

It was empty.

There was no one in your house.

Suddenly, your knees began to feel very weak under the weight of your body. You took a couple of steps back, slowly setting yourself down on your bed. You released the bat, letting it fall to the floor with a  clunk,  and you looked at your hands. They were shaking, hard.

You clasped them tightly together in a small attempt to stop the shuddering. You had been running purely on adrenaline, and now that it was beginning to leave you, you were a mess. You felt tears begin to pool in your eyes, and they quickly ran down your cheek as soon as you blinked. You hurriedly wiped them away with the sleeve of your shirt, clicking your tongue in disapproval. How long would you have to do this? Checking every room, unsure of your safety in your own home? You leaned your head forward into your hands, shutting your eyes tightly, trying to separate from the outside world, to retreat into a quiet headspace.

But there was no time for that.

You lifted your head from your hands, eyes flickering open. You could do this another time, once you knew you were safe. You had things to do. With a small grunt, you hopped up from your spot on the bed and walked back into the living room. You locked the front door, which in hindsight, you probably should’ve done as soon as you came in, but oh well. You couldn’t turn back the clock. You glanced behind you at the bag of groceries you had bought, which you had dropped to the floor as soon as you came in.

You leaned down and reached into the bag, pulling out a Bang, cracking it open, and you began to chug it down. Best to get it over with. You forced the sickeningly sweet drink down your throat and as you took the final gulp, you pulled it from your mouth and tossed the now empty can on the floor, face contorted in disgust.

Next, you pulled the new camera you’d bought from the bag. You’d had a similar version when you were younger, so the setup was a fairly simple process. Also, it came with a small stand, a detail you’d failed to notice when you purchased it, lucky you. You propped it against the window of your kitchen, aiming it down to the entrance of the apartment complex. You craned your neck down, peering into the lens. Everything looked good, the image was clear, and there was a pretty wide image of everything outside. Now for placement… You did a quick look around the apartment. It would be impossible to conceal it completely, it wasn’t one of those tiny advanced cameras you could sneak anywhere, like the ones you saw in spy movies. The lens was about the size of a dollar coin. if not a bit bigger. 

Eventually, you decided on sticking it in the middle of a loose pile of clothes. You placed the pile on a chair to give it some height, and once it was under one of your black shirts, it was pretty unnoticeable at first glance. You stood back, admiring your work.

Although you did plan for a stakeout, you’d never pulled an all-nighter before, and you weren’t entirely sure if you trusted yourself to stay up the entire night, even with the Bang. But now that everything was set up, you could breathe a little.

Now came the really hard part, staying up for 8 hours straight without losing your mind. You slowly sat yourself down onto your couch, hands clasped tightly on your lap. Your mind raced in different directions as you thought of what you should do to pass the time, umtil you eventually came to a conclusion. You grabbed the remote from the table and clicked on the T.V  

“Good morning and welcome back, bakers! Now be afraid, be very afraid, because it's biscuit week!

*****************************************************************************************************

You’re back in your old house. You look down at your hands. They’re much smaller than usual. You look past your hands, and down at the floor, and you feel your heart drop. Your dad's favorite mug, shattered into pieces on the ground. You slowly look up to your right. Your dad is standing there. He looks angry, his eyes are wide, his lips pressed into a firm frown. Like a man about to explode. As he begins to open his mouth, you feel yourself shrinking, wincing slightly in anticipation. But nothing comes out of his mouth. You blink, confused. You can see him, very clearly moving his mouth. He looks like he’s shouting, but no sound is produced. How strange. Maybe your wish had come true, and he had lost his voice. Your ears perk up as you begin to hear something. A slight, buzzing noise. Like the short static that you hear when you change channels on the T.V.

 You stare at him in wonder, and the noise grows, louder and louder, until it is all you can hear. It’s even louder than his shouts would have been, and for a spilt second, you find yourself wanting him to yell again. The noise is now unbearable. You can feel the static pounding in your ears, moving through your bones, in your heart. You feel your knees buckle under the weight of the noise. Hot tears begin to pool in your eyes, and quickly make their way down your cheeks as you let out a choked sob, clutching your head tightly. You looked up at your dad for help.

His face had disappeared.

*****************************************************************************************************

You awoke to a sharp knocking at your door. Your eyes snapped open, head jolting up from your slump as you shot up from the couch. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest, and as you shifted around, you found that you were in a cold sweat. And… you gently reached up, bringing a finger to your eye. It was wet. You swallowed. Some nightmare, but as frightening as it must’ve been, you couldn’t remember a thing about it, and maybe that was for the best.

But more importantly, how had you fallen asleep? You had drunk 4 cans of Bang, and that added up to around 1,200 milligrams of straight caffeine. You don’t even remember feeling tired, certainly not tired enough for you to pass out without you noticing or remembering.

You’d definitely managed to stay up until around 5 am. You were awake, and then you weren’t, assimple as that. Your brow furrowed in thought. How strange.

Suddenly, another round of sharp knocks on the door pulled you from your thoughts. Someone was at the door. You wiped your wet face down with the end of your sweatshirt in a vain attempt to clean yourself up, and headed to the door to see who it was.

You pulled yourself up onto your tippy toes and peered into the peephole. Your face immediately fell. It was her. You let out a small hiss of frustration. Maybe you could just pretend you weren’t home? You nodded assuredly to yourself, that seemed like a sound idea. You slowly lowered yourself, and began tiptoeing back towards your bedroom.

“Don’t try and pretend your not home, y/n! I can hear you stumbling around in there!” the voice called.

You smacked your head in frustration. You and your loud feet. You sighed, and turned back to the door, slowly opening it. There stood… well you couldn’t remember her name if you were being honest. But she was the goth girl that you had hooked up with a few days previous, the goth girl who you had very tiredly told “I’ll call you, I swear on my life!” the morning of the hook-up.

“Hey…” you said, a bit weakly.

She cocked her brow, “Hey? You said you would call me the next morning, asshole.”

Straight to the point,“Well- I’ve been busy,” you explained with a small shrug. Although this wasn’t untrue, you probably wouldn’t have called her even if you didn’t have a crazy stalker on your hands. But she didn’t need to know that. 

She let out an annoyed huff, “Too busy for one phone call? Or even a text? It takes like 10 seconds to type out ‘Hey I’ll call you tomorrow!’ and-” She clamped her mouth shut, and looked you up and down, as if she was suddenly just seeing you.

“You look like shit. Are you hungover?” 

You leaned against the doorframe, releasing a bitter chuckle “Nice to see you're still as sweet as ever,” you cooed, looking at her with tired eyes, “And no, as I said earlier I’ve been busy, bad night”

She gave you a skeptic look, it was clear in her expression that she didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth, but maybe you looked shitty enough for her to take pity on you, because she just sighed, pulling her phone from her pocket, “Well whatever,” she said, “Just add my name to your phone,”

Your face fell a bit,“...Add your name?”

“Yeah, put me in as a contact. I want to be in there,” she said dully, not looking up from her phone.

“Is that really necessary?” 

She looked up from her phone, newfound venom in her eyes, “Well you are  going to be calling me, right?”

Damn.

“Got a point,” you chuckled, opening up the contacts app. Normally, you would’ve just tried to let her down easy, but your head was still throbbing a bit, and you didn’t want to deal with any yelling from her. You kept an indifferent expression on your face as you looked down at your phone, but mentally, you were running through every female name in the book. Ashley? Camilla. Vanessa? Miranda?  You chewed your lip. None of those sounded right. This was getting you nowhere. So you decided on pretending to type out something, just to appease her.

Lkdfhldgfdkldhl

“Done. Just added you,” you informed her, slipping your phone back into the pocket of your sweatshirt.

“I want to see it.”

A look of annoyance finally took over your face, “Huh?”

“Let me see it,” she repeated, firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“That's unnecessary,”

“Well, why not? You did type my name in there, right?”

“Yes!”

“So let me see,” she insisted.

“You’re pushing it,” You said coldly.

She didn’t say anything, quietly observing your expression.

Finally, she opened her mouth again, “What’s my name?” she asked, quietly.

Fuck.

“Hm?” you hummed, feigning ignorance.

“What's my name.” She repeated, raising her voice slightly.

You had two options, either guess a random name, and maybe it was right, or say nothing, and get found out immediately. You pursed your lips.

“Jennifer,” you said, confidently.

Her mouth fell open in offense, and before you knew it, you felt the palm of her hand slap firmly against your cheek. You blinked in surprise, the hit leaving a stinging pain on your cheek.

“My name is Marcia,” she fumed.

You felt anger rising in your chest as your brain processed what had just happened. Yeah, you were an asshole, but she didn't have the most pleasant personality, either. But you had too much on your mind to worry about this shit. You chewed the inside of your cheek.

“Well Marcia,” you drawled as you cocked your head, looking back up at her, “I hope that made you feel better,” 

Marcia opened her mouth to say something, but clamped it shut into a hard-set frown. She let out a huff of anger, quickly spun on her heel, and began walking down the hall.

“Go to hell!” she called over her shoulder as she stormed off.

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah,”

You watched as she stomped down the hall, and eventually, she disappeared into the elevator. You let out a sigh of relief at her exit, that interaction was just about the last thing you needed at the moment. Maybe you'd lay off on the casual hook-up for a while. Maybe. There were a lot of hot people in the world, so making a promise like that was difficult. It was only as you looked down the hall a second time that you noticed Mavis, leaning casually leaning against the wall of the hall, looking down at her phone. When she noticed you staring, she gave you a small wave.

“You couldn’t have helped me out a bit?” you said jokingly, a small smile gracing your lips.

Mavis pulled herself from the wall, quickly shaking her head, “Who am I to interfere with your antics?” she asked. “The price of being a cold whore.”

You scoffed, “Whatever, when did you even get here?”

She hummed in thought, looking up at the ceiling, “Hmm, maybe at about  ‘I want to see it! ’” she said, in a crude impression of Marcia's voice. You let out an obnoxious snort. It was pretty spot on.

"So why are you even here, Mavis?" you asked.

She gave you a bright smile, "Let's go out."

**********************************************************************

Chapter Text

Before you could say anything, Mavis strode past where you stood at your door and into your room. You saw her nose scrunch in distaste as she surveyed the state of your room. It looked like a crackhead's room. And not a silly, quirky crackheads room, a real rat hole. Empty cans of Bang were strewn across the floor, the little leftover liquid dripping into the carpet in one case.

Mavis shifted her gaze to the pile of clothes on the chair. You felt your heart drop a bit as her focus landed there. Had she noticed the camera already? If she had, you had some explaining to do, and you had no idea how you would. Your mind raced for various half-assed excuses you could use, but the pressure was making you come up blank. You glanced back up at her, but her stony-faced expression was impossible to read. Finally, after what seemed far too long, she whipped her head back to you.

“What's with the mess?” she asked, bluntly. You felt yourself relax a bit at her words. She hadn’t seen the camera, her confusion had probably come from the pile itself. You were normally a very tidy person, so a pile of clothes on the chair was unlike you, to say the least. You forced a casual smile on your face, giving her a small shrug.

“I just pulled an all-nighter tonight,” you said, closing the door behind you. “Apparently my professor sent out a Canvas notification about a test yesterday, I certainly didn’t see it. And I would normally just go for it, but it was chemistry, and you know how badly I suck at that, Mav,” you said in a whiny voice, as you plopped yourself onto your couch. Mavis rolled her eyes at you shaking her head in annoyance, but she couldn’t withhold the small smile that was pushing against her lips entirely. She sat down next to you, crossing her legs.

“Well, I still wanna go out today, so go get ready, you can't go out looking like-” she quickly looked you up and down,”-that,” she frowned. You furrowed your brow in mock offense, as you hopped back up from your spot on the couch.

“You could at least try to fake politeness, as cruel as ever I see,” you said, shaking your head as you walked over to the bathroom. 

But Mavis hadn't been exaggerating in the least with her jab. You stared at yourself in the mirror, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. The disheveled hair, the slightly red eyes, and the harrowing bags underneath. Your skin was looking unusually pale, as if you’d had some of the blood sucked right out of you. Your eyes remained glued to the mirror. One night of staying up had made you look like this.

You felt a heaviness take over your chest, a dread. Seeing the physical impact it took on your body, after just one night made you realize just how long these next days were going to feel. With a heavy sigh, you turned the knob on your sink, and began scrubbing your face with the cold water.

__________

“A booth should be clearing up very soon.” 

“That sounds good,” Mavis told the server, her signature sweet smile plastered on her face. She sat down in the waiting area, signaling for you to sit next to her, and you obliged, plopping yourself down next to her.

”Haven’t been here in a while,” you mused, looking around the cafe in curiosity. You and Mavis had used to come here a lot during high school, its proximity to the school made it a convenient place to loiter after you were let out, and the old owner used to make you alcoholic drinks once everyone else had left. So of course the two of you always came back.

Since then, they’d done a lot of painting and refurbishing. The old faded pleather seats, long cracked with age, had been replaced with nice, wooden chairs, for a more quaint look, it was cute, but it felt a bit foreign to you. You wondered briefly about the old owner. Was she still here? 

“You’re looking a lot better,” Mavis commented absentmindedly, as she was observing the room with you, “You looked a bit pale on the drive over, but the color seems to have returned to your face,” she said, with a small smile. You nodded at her words with a weak smile. In an attempt to compensate for the overall shitiness of the last few days, you’d dressed a bit more nicely for breakfast, and had given yourself some simple, cute make-up. You looked like a functional human being again.

“Thanks, I’m feeling a bit better too, more put together, you know?” you answered, returning her small smile. It was the first genuine smile you’d cracked in a while. Being out of the house with Mavis made you feel safe and comfortable. For the first time since the whole debacle had begun, you felt like there was some hope. Soon, you would shift back into normalcy. Into a happy life with your best friend. You just needed to push on for a bit longer. You gripped your hands tightly together on your lap. Just a little longer. 

“Good afternoon ladies,” a deep voice greeted from above you. You were quickly pulled from your thoughts, and you shot your head up to meet eyes with the server. He was a bit tall, a bit stocky. His sandy brown hair was combed back, with some loose strands slipping onto his forehead. He had a square, chiseled jaw, and a small bump on his nose. He smiled as you met his gaze, and when he did, small dimples protruded on his cheeks.

Cute.

“My name is Brian, I’ll be your server for today, let me take you to your table.” 

Anything you say, man.

“Thank you,” you said dryly, pulling yourself up from the seat, Mavis following closely behind you as he led you to your table. He handed you some laminated menus as you sat down.

“Can I get started on some drinks for the two of you?” he asked in a polite, quiet voice.

“Yes, can we get some waters and some coffees for the both of us?” Mavis asked.

He nodded, “Of course, anything else?”

“That will be all, thank you.” she smiled.

As soon as he turned his back to the two of you, Mavis whipped her head back at you, a scrutinizing expression on her face. You gave her a suspicious look back.

“…What?” you asked, a bit hesitantly.

“Are you gonna try to get his number before we get out of here?”

You quickly opened your mouth to begin to defend yourself, but snapped it back shut just as quickly. 

“What makes you say that?” you asked instead.

She leaned forward excitedly, as if she had been waiting years for you to ask her that very question, “I’ve only noticed it recently, but before you start tryna get with someone you’ll put on this act,” she answered eagerly.

You cocked your head at her curiously, “...Act?”

She nodded, “Mhm, this sort of, ‘Mysterious and aloof thing’” she said motioning some air quotes, “I would clown you for it, but it works without fail almost  every time … how is beyond me,” she said rolling her eyes.

“What? That's bullshit, you just made that up!”

“Nuh-uh! I noticed it at the club last weekend, and just now! You’re usually a brighter person, but as soon as Mr. Pectorals comes to take us to our table, your voice goes down an octave and your face turns serious, it's so obvious!”

You stared blankly at the table in front of you. Now that it was being brought to your attention, she had a point. You weren’t half as cool as you acted in front of hot people. But it’s not like you were looking for a long-term relationship. What harm did the little facade do if you were just looking to mess around anyways? Fake it till you make it right? That's what your mom had always told you.

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair a bit, “Whatever, what works works right? ”

“Annoyingly, yes,” she said, with a heavy sigh,“ So how are you going to hit him up?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, when they’re at work it's a bit more difficult, I don’t like bothering people when they’re working. I know it can be unwelcome, I’ll try to be subtle about it.”

“His name is Brian,” she said suddenly.

You paused, giving her a lost look, “I know that, Captain Obvious,”

But she just shook her head, “Not Ben, not Brad, Brian,” she repeated.

You cocked your head, “What are you-”

“Just making sure you know- you seem to have trouble with that, y’know, names,” she said, with a smug look on her face. Your face fell into one of annoyance as you realized what she was getting at. You scoffed, a dry smile on your expression.

“You’re too kind,” you cooed in a sweet voice, “Thank you for the reminder,”

“Of course, anytime.” she shot back, in an equally sickeningly sweet voice.

”Here are your drinks ladies.” a voice suddenly cut in, from above you. You jumped in surprise, your knee knocking the bottom of the table as you turned to see Brian hovering next to you, as he placed your drinks on the table. He looked at you with a furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said softly.

You quickly shook your head, “N-no it’s fine, you’re just a very q-quiet walker,” you said in a hushed voice.  Quiet walker? So much for wooing him with my smooth words.  Your heart was still racing a bit. That feeling of security earlier had given you a false sense of confidence. You were still pretty jittery. 

He cracked a small grin, and for the first time, you noticed he had a small gap in his teeth, “I’m surprised you noticed! I hunt in my free time, you have to be gentle on your feet,”

“A hunter…” you repeated absentmindedly. He was the third hunter you’d met just in these last few days. Strange coincidence.

“I’ll try to make myself a bit more present next time,” he assured you, straightening himself up, “Now, can I get something for you guys to eat?”

“The pancake platter for two, please,” Mavis interjected. You blinked in surprise at the sound of her voice. You’d sort of forgotten she was there, just for a moment. She had a cold expression on her face as she gave her order to Brian, and once again, Brian left your table, leaving the two of you alone, sitting in an unusually awkward silence. But as she finally looked back up at you, your heart dropped. Fuck. There it was. That look of concern. Whatever bullshit you’d told her was completely out of the window now. That scared, surprised reaction wasn't that unusual, but for you it was. And Mavis knew that. You had to give her a new explanation, but you had no idea what you would tell her. You held your breath in your throat as you waited for her to say something.

“So what's really going on?” She asked quietly.

You said nothing, desperately racking your brain for something to tell her. It was difficult to come up with something out of thin air. So you decided to tell her the truth. Well, like a third of the truth.

“I’ve been having some pretty vivid nightmares recently,” you said quietly, in a sort of half-whisper. You stared down at the table. You were finding it difficult to make eye contact with her.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, “Nightmares?” she asked, “...About what?”

You hated this. You hated lying to her, talking about him. But you had to say something.

“My dad,” you said in an even meeker voice. You watched as Mavis’s face shifted from one of concern to one of pity. The expression felt like a jab to your chest. You hated it. Your eyes remained glued down to the table. You felt like a little kid avoiding her gaze.

“Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be,” you said firmly, “It's not something I normally struggle with, just every so often,” you said, in a dismissive tone. Mavis opened her mouth to say more but clasped back shut. There was really nothing more to say. You didn't want her sympathy, it was something she was well aware of.

“I know you hate this sort of thing…” she began. She paused, and glanced up at you, as if she were waiting for you to interject. But you didn’t. When she saw this, she continued with her thought, “But I’m always here for you. If your house ever feels too empty, call me over, or come over to my place! I’m a call away.” she said, placing her hand gently on yours. It was warm, and you immediately felt your face go warm with it. The kind words touched you, but you and Mavis weren't usually affectionate with each other, so you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the gesture. But you appreciated it.

“Thank you Mav.”

_______________________________________________________

The conversation slid back into normalcy, and soon enough, your food came. It was only when the warm aroma of blueberry pancakes filled your nose that you realized how hungry you were. Your stomach suddenly felt very empty as you eyed the large stack of pancakes hungrily. As soon as Brian placed the plate down, you went at it. Mavis watched in slight awe as you quickly ate your food. 

“When was the last time you ate…?”

You stopped your chewing to think for a bit. Now that you thought about it, you hadn’t eaten since your lunch break yesterday. That meant it had been about twenty hours since your last meal. But you had just finished a difficult conversation with Mavis five minutes ago, you didn’t want another to begin so quickly. You gave her a small shrug. 

“I don’t know, I had some leftovers for dinner last night,” you said as casually as possible, “Why do you ask?”

She quickly shook her head, “I don’t know, you just seemed really hungry...”

“Not really, I just really like eating,” you said, giving her a goofy smile. 

She let out a small giggle, “My bad then, let's keep eating.”

You were about to make a comment on how little she herself had eaten, but were interrupted as Brian walked back up to the table, with that cute smile on his face. It was 100% a fakey, customer service smile, you could spot one from a mile away, but cute nonetheless. He leaned over Mavis’s shoulder and placed a small black folder at the center of the table.

“Here’s your check ladies, anything else I can grab for you?”

You turned your head up to where he stood above you, a subtle smile gracing your lips.

“Could I get your number?”

________________________________________________________________

As you waited for your Uber to pick you up, you looked down at the small paper that Brian had handed you as you left the restaurant with an indifferent expression.

707-863-8447

Now that you actually thought about it for two seconds, you really had no intention of calling him anytime soon. You had far too much on your hands. To be honest, you had only really tried to get it to prove a point to Mavis, sort of like a trophy. Sort of a shitty thing to do, you knew. But it wasn’t like you’d formed a deep emotional connection with the man over the span of breakfast. At most, he'll wait for your call for about a week, until you eventually fade away in his memory.

You shoved the scrap of paper into your jacket pocket, and let out a shuddering breath. It was a cold, crisp morning. Wispy clouds overcast the sky, and the sun's light pushing through them gave the city a pale glow. You began to rock back and forward on your heels as you waited for your Uber. After about five minutes, a black Toyota Camry parked next to the curb you stood on, and you got in.

You felt a small feeling of relief wash over you as you sat down, and saw that the driver was an older woman. It was just a small detail, but it made you feel a bit more comfortable.

“Where to, doll?” she called from the driver's seat.

“Esperanza Apartment complexes, please,” you replied, staring out the window. She nodded and began driving. 

You had decided to stay in today. As scary as it felt, it had occurred to you recently that staging out was almost just as dangerous. At least in your house, you could lock the door. You had cameras. Precautions you had taken. You would probably just watch movies all day. You glanced down at your watch. It was only 10:30 am. It would be a long day, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. You placed your head against the window with a small  thud  and stared out the window, your breath slightly fogging the glass. A car drive, no matter how short, never failed to make you feel drowsy. So you closed your eyes for a bit, falling into the lull of the engine, and retreating into a quiet headspace.

After about eight minutes, you had arrived back at your apartment. You thanked the driver with a smile and a wave, and hopped out of the car. You peered into the lobby through the muggy glass door, and thankfully, it was empty. Your social battery had run dry from breakfast. You quickly strode to the elevator, clicked the button for your floor, and went up.

You walked up to your door, and just like the day previous, you placed your ear against the old wood, holding your breath as you listened in. Nothing. Feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline, you burst through the door, running straight for the camera. As soon as you grabbed it, you ran back out to the hallway, slamming the door behind you. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath, as you glanced down at your hands. The small red light was still on. It was still recording. You smirked to yourself.  Perfect . You clicked the stop button, put the video on fast forward, and stared down at the small, glowing screen. 

This way, you didn’t have to do a full sweep of your house every time you came back in. You could just watch the recording and see if anyone came in. You scanned the screen frantically, for any unusual movement. 

But soon, the video came to an end, and there was nothing. The breath that you had held in your throat released as you let out a heavy sigh. You shoved the camera into your purse and walked back into your room. You locked the door as soon as you walked in, and as your eyes fell on your couch, your body suddenly felt very heavy, and you threw yourself onto the cushions without a second of hesitation. You shut your eyes tightly, and pulled a blanket over your curled form. Now came the difficult part. Forgetting you had a stalker and existing as a normal person in your house for the rest of the day. Alone. You groaned as you pulled yourself back up from the couch. You leaned over to your coffee table and grabbed the small notepad and pen you kept there.

When you felt like you had nothing to do with yourself, you usually found that having some sort of “schedule” helped you to feel motivated, so that's what you decided to do. You decided to make a list of some of your favorite movies to watch. You knawed at the end of your pen as you racked your brain for a solid list, and after about 15 minutes of brainstorming, you had come up with this;

• Pan’s Labyrinth
• Jojo Rabbit
• The Truman Show
• Little Miss Sunshine
• The Fundamentals of Caring
• The Social Network
• Parasite

Looked good. You opened up your laptop, looked up 123.movies, and typed “Pan’s Labyrinth”. into the search bar. Time to forget about the world for a bit.

“Cuentan que hace mucho, mucho tiempo en el mundo subterráneo donde no existe la mentira ni el dolor…”

_________________________________________________________

You are small. Not a toddler, but still small. You look up at the small mirror on your desk, adorned with various colorful stickers. You look like you are around 13. You feel scared. You aren’t sure why. But you feel it. From the top of your chest to the pit of your stomach, a feeling of dread. You hear heavy steps quickly making their way to your room. You stare at the door. Your father bursts in, his face contorted with anger. 

“I got a call from school,”

You don’t say anything.

“You ditched the last half of school, you better have a damn good explanation for this.”

You swallow, opening your mouth to speak, “I-I fell on the concrete during P.E, a-and m-my hand started bleeding,” you say, quietly. 

He pauses for a moment, “How much were you bleeding?”

“J-just a little b-bit… but my blood looked like it was movin-”

“Again with this blood?!” he interrupted, his voice rising to a shout, “The teachers told me you were screaming and crying over this little cut! They suggested I take you to therapy, enroll you into the special education classes, aren’t you fucking embarrassed?” he spat.

You flinch at his sharp words, “I know y-you don’t believe me,” you begin slowly, “But it really looks like its moving, I can feel my blood moving by itself in my- ”

He slams his fist on the door, “I’m fucking done with this, it was okay when you were smaller, but you've grown now, act like it.” He says. His gaze falls from your face down to your hand, wrapped in a bandage. He quickly walks over to you, snatching your arm tightly, You yelp in pain.

“What are you-” you begin, but your mouth falls open in shock as you see him peeling at the edge of your bandage. Your confusion turns into fear. You look up at him with pleading eyes. 

“Dad! Please don’t! Please don’t take it off-”

Before you can finish, the bandage is ripped off from your arm, and you feel something warm beginning to move down your palm. You look at your hand. It’s bleeding, of course. The blood is moving, writhing unnaturally, as if it were in pain. You can feel it twitching under your skin. You hate it, you hate it. You quickly shut your eyes, the tears pooling in your eyes fall down your cheeks.

“Dad-”

“Fucking look at it!” he shouts at you, “Open your eyes!”

“Dad please!” you sob.

“Open your fucking eyes!” he repeats. He uses his free arm to force your left eye open.

“Get off of me!” you shriek, desperately.

“Once you begin seeing reason again.”

“Get off of me!” you shout again. This time, there’s more anger behind it. A built-up animosity you weren’t aware of begins to bubble in your chest, as you glare at the man in front of you, with hot tears in your eyes, your father. 

“Stop being a fucking-”

He is interrupted. You feel his grip on your face and hand release. You hear a thud. You open your eyes slowly. He’s on the floor now, unmoving. His face is gone.

_____________________________________________________

You wake up in a cold sweat, slumped over yourself on the couch. Your heart races in your chest, and you begin taking in slow, long breaths. Another dream about him. It wasn’t unusual for you to dream of your father, but this many times within the last few days was strange.

And there was another detail that ate at you. In all of the dreams you’d ever had about him, you’d never seen him faceless as you had been recently. It was like his face had been rubbed off, leaving only the shape of it, a white canvas. It made you deeply unsettled. Usually, your dreams of him left you with a feeling of deep sadness, but this time, you were frightened.

You lifted your hand to your eye level and saw that they were shaking. With a low groan, you brought your chin up from your chest, your neck cracking in ten different places as you did. When had you fallen asleep anyways? You didn't remember feeling tired in the slightest. This same thing had happened the other day, too. In one instant you are awake, the next you are asleep, and then you wake up, trembling in fear because of a nightmare. When had these strange habits begun? This wasn't like you at all.

You glanced up at your laptop screen. The credits for  The Social Network  were rolling. You frowned, reaching over to shut the laptop. You supposed you needed something more engaging to do rather than just watching movies. With a small grunt, you hoisted yourself up from the couch, and headed over to the kitchen. Your stomach let out a long, low growl, so you decided it was time to whip up some food. You walked over to the fridge, and leaned down to look inside. You had some leftover salad, and you saw some ground beef. It would be pretty easy to make some spaghetti. You nodded assuredly to yourself, pulled the garlic and onion from the drawer, and placed them on the cupboard. You also grabbed some of the thick, rubber gloves that hung on the wall, and put them on. It may have seemed a bit silly to onlookers, but it was a simple precaution you took to avoid cutting yourself when you cooked. 

You diced up the onion and garlic, and tossed them into a saucepan to sear with some red wine. After you added the tomato sauce and ground beef, you cooked the noodles and served yourself. 

You pulled out a chair and began eating, loudly slurping up the noodles with no regard for etiquette. A choice you quickly regretted. You let out a quiet hiss as the hot sauce burned the top of your mouth. You shook your head in annoyance at yourself, and began mixing the food slowly with your fork, in a lazy attempt to cool it faster.

You stopped mixing as you heard a noise coming from the living room. You whipped your head back, scanning the room, your heartbeat rising to your ears as you tried to find the source of the noise. It sounded like a soft clicking. Was it the AC? You glanced up at the small vent on your living room wall. No, it sounded too clear. Also, it didn’t seem to be coming from the above, it sounded like it was at your level. You quickly stood up, your chair releasing a low scratching noise as you pushed it against the floor. As it did, the clicking noise came to a sharp halt. You felt the world fall still around you, a pit opening in your stomach at the disappearance of the noise. Had it reacted to your movement? You swallowed heavily, as you slowly reached for the metal bat you had placed in the kitchen earlier, leaning against the counter. You gripped the handle tightly, your knuckles going pale. Did that mean it was a person? You began gnawing at your bottom lip in thought. You would have to test that out further. Maybe wait for it to begin again, and then make another noise, see what happened then. But suddenly, you remembered something. A completely random memory from over five years ago returned to your mind.

____________________________________________

“Mav, how did you learn to do this?” you whispered in a hushed voice.

She shrugged her shoulders very slightly, “The internet is an amazing resource,” she replied, a smug smile adorning her face, “Now stop your yapping, this liquor cabinet isn’t going to pick itself, and I need you to be on the lookout,” she said sharply. 

She leaned in closer to the large padlock that her father had put on the handle, gripping the bobby pin in her hand tightly as she worked away at the lock.

You rolled your eyes, but obliged, turning back to face the rest of the dark kitchen. As you stare into the darkness, all you can hear is the soft noise of the lock becoming undone behind you.

Click…. Click… Click…

Chapter Text

You whipped your head over to the door, and your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. The knob was shifting, ever so slightly. Someone was at the door. 

As you stared at the knob, frozen in terror, the clicking quickly grew faster, more frantic.

They were growing impatient. 

Without thinking, you sprinted over. You grasped the knob tightly with one hand, your bat in the other. Your chest heaved up and down, but your loss of breath wasn’t from the sudden exertion of energy, it was from the sickening fear that had overtaken your body. You could feel your mind already beginning to spiral into a panic attack, but you warded it off by putting all of your focus into the door. Your palms were sweaty, shaking as they held the knob shut. Your blood pumped quickly throughout your entire body, from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head. The sensation left you feeling dizzy. 

Suddenly, the clicking stopped. Foolishly, a wave of relief took you over. As you stared at the now still knob, your breath caught in your throat. The world fell still around you. But it was soon shaken. The clicking had now been replaced with a loud thumping on the other end. Each hit was strong, leaving the whole room shuddering with every impact. You let out a small yelp of fear, and without thinking, you leaped back a bit. But your hand was still glued to the knob.

You glanced back behind you at the window across the room, and the idea of trying to escape through there briefly crossed your mind, but you quickly dismissed the idea when you remembered you were on the third floor. But you didn’t dismiss it entirely.

A last resort.

The time for patience was over. They were trying to break the door in. They had already loosened the lock, and now, it was a matter of brute strength. You pushed all of your weight against the door, desperately trying to relock it with your fingertips, palm still wrapped around the knob. But whoever was on the other side had anticipated this, and had the knob turned in the opposite direction. It was impossible to relock. Besides, your hands were so clammy, even if you did manage to get a grip on it, you didn't doubt that your fingers would slip right off. It was an impossible situation.

As reality began to sink in, hot tears began to pool in your eyes as you continued to push against the door, a feeling of hopelessness taking you over. You could already feel your muscles beginning to ache. In the end, it came down to endurance, and you knew you were weak. 

They were going to get in, in a matter of minutes, or even seconds. Moments. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut to escape, even for a moment, into a dark headspace. 

But of course, even a brief moment of peace simply wasn’t in your cards. The door rammed open, tossing you to the side like a ragdoll. You landed on the floor with a heavy  thud,  and let out a cry as a sharp pain shot up your back. Your hand reached up to grab the end of your coffee table, in a vain attempt to pull yourself back up. But you stopped in your tracks as you saw a figure move through the door.

You watched in horror as a tall man slowly stepped into your room. He moved sluggishly, a stark difference from the impatient, rapid thumps you had felt earlier. He wore a plain white mask that almost looked to be the face of an old porcelain doll. The mask was slightly cracked at the edges, with a faded yellow tinge,

Your brow furrowed at this. This wasn’t who you were expecting to see. You had imagined a red frown on the intruder's face. Maybe he just chose a different mask this time? Your eyes fell from his face to his body, but the body type was completely different from the stocky man you had seen in the video. He was taller, and lean. He had the body of a runner. 

You were quickly pulled from your thoughts as he slowly turned his head to you, and you froze, your mind and body fell still. You searched desperately for any indication of why he was here. Was he angry with you somehow, enacting revenge? Was he some crazy killer, who was simply out for blood? An obsessed stalker?

But you found nothing. The eyes of the mask felt so dark and cold that you feared you would sink in if you stared for any longer. All the same, you couldn’t look away. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally pulled away from your gaze. He turned back and gently closed the door behind him, and it was only then that it occurred to you that you should call for help, as stupid as that was.

“H-help! There’s somebody in-!

Before you could even finish your sentence, he pounced on you, sending you back as his full body weight came upon you. He brought his knee to your chest and pressed down firmly to keep you pinned to the floor. You felt the air being knocked right out of you at the impact. You couldn't inhale or exhale, it hurt too much. He clasped his gloved hand firmly over your mouth, and the feeling of suffocation grew even greater. Tears begin to fall from your eyes, as you let out a choked sob behind his hand. He tilted his head curiously at you, and slowly brought a gloved finger to his mouth.

“Shhhhh, I’m not going to kill you,”  a female, robotic voice drawled from under the mask.

A voice changer?

“Not yet, so stop that shrieking before I lose my temper,”  he said. 

You’d’ve thought that the voice changer would’ve made that sentence a little less intimidating, but it didn’t. Even with the alteration, you could still sense a sick venom dripping from his tone. 

You immediately obeyed and became quiet under his hand. And at that moment, as foolishly optimistic as it was, you saw a light at the end of the tunnel.

He was trying to talk to you. His being a completely crazed killer had just become a little less likely. Maybe there was a way out of this? You felt your sense of desperation returning to you. Desperation meant hope.

“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth… and if you start that screaming again I’ll blow your brains out. Nod if you understand.”

You nodded slowly. He gave you a small nod back, and just as promised, he removed his hand from your mouth. You immediately shot up from the ground, hunching over yourself as you gasped for air. 

As the adrenaline began to wear off, the burning sensation in your chest from the lack of oxygen was now becoming known to you. But the sudden intake of breath wasn’t the best idea either, as it sent you into a sputtering coughing fit. He looked down at you, towering over you with his arms hanging stiffly by his side.

This confirmed what you had suspected. He wasn’t there to kill you. It wasn’t out of the question, but he wanted something from you. God knows what. But the fact that he was standing there, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath was telling enough. 

After what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality was less than a minute, you had gathered yourself. Aside from the heart-wrenching fear, you were collected. Shaking like crazy, but your breathing was normal. With a strained grunt, you slowly pulled yourself off the floor, wincing as a throbbing heat ran up your back. Your body still ached with pain from the initial impact. 

“Now show me,”  he said softly.

You stared blankly back up at him,“...What?”

He let out an annoyed huff at your response, and that small reaction alone sent your nerves spiraling. You couldn’t afford wrong answers.

“Show me your abilities.”

Abilities? Maybe he was crazy.

You shook your head frantically, “I-I don’t know what you mean-” 

“I’ve been patient with you,”  he interjected, hostility quickly returning to his voice,  “But don’t fucking lie to me.”

You were in no position to lose your temper, but you could feel it beginning to grow in your chest.

You took in a slow breath, “I swear I don't know what you mean-” you began.

He slammed his fist into the wall. The impact sent the whole room shaking, maybe even the whole floor. But that was the least of your worries. Your eyes widened in shock as you saw a gaping hole in the wall where he had punched. 

Angry men punching holes into walls was nothing rare ordinarily, but these walls weren’t drywall. It was an old apartment complex. A majority of the walls were made up of cement and wood. And he had just punched into pure cement and broken it in. `

It was inhuman. 

You continued to stare dumbly at the wall until the robotic voice pulled you from your trance.

“Show me what you can do with your blood!”  he shouted. The voice changer was still on, but because of how loudly he had shouted, you could hear his real voice seeping out from under the automated female voice. 

Hot tears returned to your eyes, “I can’t do anything!” you shouted back, voice cracking as you held back a flurry of sobs that were begging to be released from your throat.

He let out a frustrated groan. He turned from you slightly and began vigorously scratching at his wrist. You looked down, and on the sliver of skin that wasn’t covered by his sleeve or gloves, you saw that he had a pretty nasty rash. It looked like eczema. Mavis sometimes broke out with the rash on her hands during the winter, so it was easy for you to recognize.

“If you're going to be difficult, I’m just going to have to beat it out of you.”

You whipped your head back up, but before you had time to fully process what he'd said, the impact had already landed. He punched you square in the stomach. You felt yourself lose all air, folding over yourself. Before your body could even react to the first blow, another quickly followed, this time to your right temple. Your head throbbed with white-hot pain as your vision began to go spotty. You stumbled over, desperately clawing at the wall in search of something to steady yourself with.

“This is just going to keep going until you show me something worth my fucking time!”  he yelled.

 He grabbed your arm, slamming your face against the wall. You cried out in pain as you took yet another blow to the head. At this point, there was no point in trying to hold back the tears. You sobbed loudly into the wall, tears spilling over your cheeks. Anyone who saw the situation you were in would understand your tears. It would probably be stranger if you weren’t crying. But as you wailed into the wall, snot and tears dripping down your face, a wave of shame came over you. You didn’t feel like the careful adult you knew yourself to be, you felt outside of yourself. You couldn’t help but feel like a child again as you heard yourself screaming in pain. 

He shook his head angrily, “That crying is fucking annoying. I wouldn’t have to smash your face up like this if you just showed me what I came here for. I hate wasting my time.”

You sniffed loudly. You tried to gather yourself, to get your voice back, but as you spoke, you didn’t recognize the strained, terrified voice that escaped your lips.

“I-I swear, I don’t know what you're talking about, but I’ll do anything you want. Please, just let me-”

You were cut off by a tingling sensation on your head. It turned warm. Then, it started slowly moving, dripping down from your temple to your eyelid. You gasped as it trickled into your eye, and you saw your vision going red.

You were bleeding.

 Seemingly intrigued by your sudden silence, and the clear sense of fear that had stricken you. He loosed his grip on your arms, keeping a watchful eye on your expression. You slowly reached your hand up to your head, touching it gently.

You lowered your hand to look at it, only to see that it was covered in blood. You felt your stomach churn, and a cold shiver ran through your body. You hadn’t seen this much in years, since you were young.

The cat had scratched you again.

The blood writhed unnaturally in your hand, as if it were in pain, as if it were alive. A wave of nausea hit you as you saw it moving so horribly. You hunched over, and before you knew it, you were vomiting all over the floor, retching loudly as you struggled for air. After you were done, you took a deep breath, a decision you immediately regretted. You gagged at the rancid scent of your vomit.

The masked man flinched slightly, stepping back a bit to avoid the projectile of your puke.

You coughed, wiping your mouth with your sleeve, and looked up at him.

“P-Please, I need to stop the bleeding. I can't look at this, please,” you begged. You didn’t dare to look down at your hand again, but you could feel the blood shifting unnaturally in your palm, as if it were a parasite.

He cocked his head curiously at you,  “Why?”

“C-can’t you see it moving? Please, I’m afraid-”

But he said nothing, still staring down at the pool of vomit in front of his shoes, as if he were still processing what had happened. He slowly looked up at you.

“…You’re afraid of blood?”  he whispered. You nodded solemnly. He turned from you slightly, letting out a huff of air,  “Oh this is just fucking rich!”

You were completely at his mercy Your body was too weak to move, and your spirit broken. The blood continued dripping down your head. Tears and snot covered your face. Any hope you’d had quickly wilted in your chest. You could do nothing but stare up at him, waiting for his next move.

“Enough of this.” 

In a flash, he pulled his arm back and struck you on the side of your head, and sent you toppling over. You yelped in pain, a stinging heat overtaking your entire head as you crashed into the living room wall. You felt your entire body throbbing as you fell to the floor. Your forced your eyes open, and you noticed the metal bat was still there, laying next to the door. 

Your eyes locked in on it. You must’ve dropped it when you received that first blow from the door. You swallowed heavily. It was a Hail Mary, but it was all you had. Negotiation had been a pipe dream, you needed  some  control of the situation. The masked man followed your gaze. You could tell that he knew what you were thinking. He quickly lurched over, reaching out for the bat with a small grunt. 

You didn’t doubt for a second that he was faster than you, but with your hand right next to the bat to begin with, it was no match. You pushed yourself forward, grabbed the bat, and leaped back up to face him. You felt lightheaded from getting up too quickly, but you did your best to not show it. You planted your feet firmly on the ground, unwavering, despite your entire body screaming at you, begging you to lie down.

He scoffed,  “What the fuck are you going to do with that?”

You raised the bat above your head, swinging it down onto his shoulder. He blocked it almost immediately, and you could hear a breathy laugh from under the mask. But you weren’t done yet. While he was focused on blocking you, you swiftly lifted your leg up to kick him in the balls.

You didn’t know much about self-defense, but if there was one all-accepted truth in the world it was this; If you kicked a man hard enough in the balls, they would be out for a bit. You couldn’t help the triumphant, slightly maniacal laugh that escaped your lips, as you saw the towering man topple over. As he was down, you hit him again on his knees, just for good measure. You spun around on your heel, heading straight for the door. You fumbled with the knob clumsily as you unlocked it, heard a small click, and quickly pushed it open.

But not quickly enough.

A strong arm wrung you by your torso, pulling you back into your room. You felt him lean in next to your ear, his mask brushing against you as he did. 

“You’re going to fucking pay for that,”  he whispered. The voice was gentle, yet seething with anger. He shut the door again, his arm still holding your body against his. He slammed you against the wall, pinning you down with his arm. With his free hand, he reached down into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a small pocket knife. Your eyes widened in terror at the blade, it was your worst fear coming true. 

“Unfortunately I can’t kill you yet, but like I said,”  he cooed, as he flipped the switchblade around in his hand,  “I’m going to make you pay for that shit.”

He pushed down on the release, and a small blade popped out.

All your life, you did everything you could to prevent having to see that horrible blood ever again. You wore ridiculous gloves when you cut food. You dressed as modestly as a nun, lest you slip and fall, even during the hot city summers when the air was so humid you felt you could choke. Some days, the nerves got to you so bad, that you would just lock yourself in you house for days. To see your years of effort being tossed down the drain at the will of one psycho with a knife, made your mind go blank with fury.

In a sudden rush of adrenaline, you began twisting and turning under his arm with all your power. Not anticipating the sudden burst of energy, his grip loosened on you slightly. But he quickly regained himself, his arm tightening down on you.

“Where’d this strength come from?”  he mused quietly, more to himself than anything else.

“Let me go!” you barked, sounding choked.

“It's funny that you believe you’re in any position to tell me what to do”

You didn’t even acknowledge what he had said. Hell, you were barely even aware he'd said anything. You were seeing red. Your skin felt slimy, as though you were completely covered in blood, but you knew that couldn't be true. It was a horrible tingly feeling all over... it was incredibly overstimulating, and your body was screaming in objection to the sensation. But your mind was elsewhere.

“Let me go, ” you murmured, barely a whisper.

You felt something warm and heavy dripping down your chest. 

Dripping wasn’t the right word, it felt more like slithering. But for once in your life, the sensation didn’t send you spiraling. You were too focused on the man in front of you. On how much you hated him. On how much you wanted him dead.

“Or what?”

After he said that, you couldn’t explain what happened. You closed your eyes, accepting the deep scarlet that had taken over your mind. The next thing you heard was the grating sound of torn flesh, the man yelling out in pain, and a loud thud.

It was an incredibly familiar feeling.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you saw the man stumbling out of the room, grasping his torso tightly, a trail of dark red following his path. As he finally left the room, you felt that the world was suddenly incredibly quiet.

You looked down at yourself, and you felt your heart stop once again. You didn't even know if it was real.

There was a thin, red blade coming from out of your stomach. You swallowed heavily, your breaths becoming heavy and strained as you slowly reached a shaking finger to touch it. It was slimy, and as soon as you made contact with it, it lost its structure, and the sharp blade you had just seen turned into a pile of warm blood on your lap. For once, it was still. You hated yourself for having the thought, but when you felt it land on you, the warmth of it brought you a twisted sense of comfort. It reminded you that you were real.

You didn't know what any of this meant. And perhaps if you weren't just beaten half to death, suffering major blood loss and a possible concussion, you would have the capacity to ponder it. But you simply slumped over yourself, closed your eyes, and finally let your body give into what it had been craving most these past few days, rest.

Hopefully, you wouldn't have any bad dreams.