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You'd known Josuke all your life. Your dad was a postman, same as his grandfather, and you'd always end up in the kids room at get-togethers and office parties. You were a little older than he was but there weren't any other kids your age at those sorts of things. He absolutely adored you, following you around like a puppy and constantly begging for your attention. It was cute coming from a little kid so you indulged him. It helped that he had the most adorable haircut, a little miniature pompadour. When you were nine and he was six, he told you that he loved you, that he was going to marry you. You laughed at him, saw his brow furrow and his fists clench. He was just a little boy. You were three years older, infinitely wiser and more mature, and didn't like him like that. You didn't like anyone like that. He took your rejection surprisingly well, only tearing up a little. He swore to you, in a high pitched voice, that you'd change your mind. There was something in his eyes that told you he was serious. It would take you years to realize just how serious he was.
You didn't see much of him in your day-to-day life--a quick glimpse at the grocery store here, him riding by on his bike there--but he always treated it like a big event. He'd follow you home from school some days or, at least, try to before his mom caught up with him. He'd wave and smile and jump up and down. It was cute... sort of. It was getting less and less cute, more and more creepy as the years went on. You had your mom talk to his mom. She didn't see a problem with his behavior.
"Young love," she said, looking off into the distance, "is a beautiful thing."
Her response told you one thing--you'd have to deal with this on your own. So you did. You took alternate routes to and from school, stopped going to extracurricular activities, always walked with a group, and never let your eyes meet with Josuke's. He didn't take that well, but there was nothing he could do. He was too small, too young to do much of anything. You felt a little better, but you couldn't shake the sensation of the hair on the back of your neck whenever you thought of him. There was something seriously, irreversibly wrong with him, and you for didn't want to find out what.
At your elementary school graduation, he proposed again. You were twelve now, he was nine, and he'd come up to you and all your friends and loudly proclaimed that you were going to get married. There was a manic shine in his eye. You'd never felt more humiliated. The other kids in your grade knew about his "little crush" but now they thought you were actually dating! Your friends laughed at him--you by extension--and you saw his face twist up in rage. This wasn't a little boy's temper tantrum anymore; this was full-grown adult anger, barely contained in his small form. He looked to you, his eyes harsh and hard. You didn't say anything, but you didn't laugh either. He stomped away, trampling over a dropped bouquet. That felt like an ending, closure, but it wasn't over.
Your middle school years were fairly typical--a mix of makeup, boys, and overwhelming awkwardness--except for one thing. The boys in your class would get mysteriously ill, sometimes for weeks on end. You'd find marbles in your desk, flowers in your shoebox, little symbols doodled in your textbooks. Every Valentine's Day, you'd find a box of chocolates on your chair with a card. It was always the same one.
"Love you. - Josuke"
Little things happened now and then--tacks on seats, strange poetry written on the chalkboard. Any boy you talked with, any boy you showed any interest in, would be in horrible pain the next day. They chalked it up to a twenty-four hour stomach bug, but they caught it again and again whenever they hung out with you. Your classmates swore your classroom was haunted, cursed, and the school even ripped apart the ceiling and the floorboards to check for toxic mold. They found nothing. As the years passed and you moved up grades, it would follow you.
But there was something that told you that Josuke had something to do with it, and that suspicion was confirmed when you found your diary out of place in your room one summer day after school. Instead of being hidden on the side of your bed, it was under your pillow. You'd written your hopes and dreams in there, your day-to-day life, and your girlhood crushes. Every page that mentioned a boy had been defaced, their names scribbled out in angry black marker. Whole pages were torn out that detailed the growing unease you felt around Josuke. You stood there, diary in hand, completely silent--the only sound the ticking of your alarm clock. It didn't feel safe to breathe, safe to move. You didn't know if he was still there, hiding under your bed, and you didn't want to know.
You left your room in tears, throwing your diary to the ground. You begged your parents to put a lock on your window, your door, anything to keep Josuke from getting in again. They didn't believe you when you said that he'd been in your room; to them he was the nice, sweet neighborhood boy who had a precocious crush on their daughter. You ran back to your room but the diary was missing. They accused you of being theatrical--an attention seeker. You fought back the best you could and halfway through your argument, someone knocked on the door. Your father answered, and your blood ran cold.
"Oh, Josuke! What a surprise!" Your father seemed positively delighted. "Did you come over to play?"
"Ya-huh," he replied, his voice airy and light-hearted. You could hear the excitement in his voice, keenly sharpened and dangerous. He'd come to see your reaction, to observe the fruits of his labor. "Can she play right now?"
"Not right now. She's... not feeling well," your father replied. "Maybe tomorrow."
"Oh." Never before had a single syllable sounded so menacing. You didn't even want to imagine the look on his face now, when he was denied his satisfaction, but you did. He'd have that crease between his eyes, that tiny mouth contorted into a scowl. You hoped that your father wouldn't take pity on him, mistake Josuke's expression for childlike disappointment.
"I'll come back tomorrow then!" The door shut. The tension dropped. You went off to your room without another word. You didn't feel comfortable lying in bed, even touching it was out of the question. You sat on the floor, put your heads in your hands, and cried. A cold wind whistled through your hair from your open window.
You needed a plan, an exit strategy, and you found one. You would go to a different high school, far away. Your grades could get you in, secure you a scholarship. You'd take the next three years to completely cut Josuke off, severing whatever perverse link he thought he had with you. You'd lose your friends, your family, the town you loved, but if it would get him away from you, you'd do it. You'd burn it all down just to run away.
It took some convincing, but your parents eventually agreed that you could live with your aunt in Tokyo. They were so happy, so proud that their little girl was going to such a good school. You nodded, taking their praise and throwing it away. Your smile was painted on, shining brightly. You were going to make it.
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of excitement, and you found yourself caught up in the packing and prepping for a new life. Your garbage cans were knocked over, your front door splashed with red paint, your curtains mysteriously drawn, but it didn't phase you so much anymore. He couldn't follow you where you were going. You felt serene, happy, like nothing could weigh you down. Josuke kept coming over to visit but your parents turned him away. You were too busy, they said, and wasn't he a little too old to be playing with girls? You caught his eye once as he walked away. He'd been slouched but perked right up when he saw you looking at him. You smirked and waved. You could practically see his heart skip a beat. Then you closed your curtains. That little bit of revenge was oh so sweet.
You tried to keep your departure date a secret but of course your dad told his grandfather about it. You expected that. You wouldn't go so far as to say that you trained for it, but you coached yourself on what he might say or do. He'd surely make a scene, maybe cry or stomp or shout, but he was powerless to stop you. You'd be taking the train into Tokyo, and there'd be dozens of people around. You were safe.
And you were. You and your parents boarded the train with no issues. You didn't even see him on the platform until you pulled away from the station. He had the most horrible look on his face, a face that deeply unsettled you even as you saw him grow farther and farther away. He was smiling, his teeth bared and glinting in the sun, and he waved--chopping the air with his hand. His eyes were dead, cold, but not defeated. You'd meet again, he seemed to say. You hoped that wasn't true.
Free from Josuke, you found your niche at your new school. You felt safe enough to hang out with friends, go on dates, even have your first kiss. The shadow that had hung over your life was fading. You were almost normal. Your aunt indulged you, even let you spend holidays and vacation with her. Your parents would bemoan you not visiting them, but they quickly got used to coming up to Tokyo to see you. They never mentioned Josuke, and you didn't ask. He was gone, you were gone, and life was beautiful. You set your sights on Tokyo University and worked yourself to the bone to get in, reminding yourself that the alternative could be going back home. Your high school years flew by, slipping out of your hands like grains of sand.
On the eve of your graduation, you got a call. Your dad was sick, deathly ill in fact. Quite sudden. How strange. You needed to come home, to stay home. There was a good school not too far from where you lived, and you could live with your parents. Think of all the money you'd save! You'd be able to see old friends. Oh, and Josuke had been asking about you. He'd just started high school, wasn't that something?
It was like being kicked in the gut by a horse. You could feel yourself ripping apart, torn between avoiding Josuke and taking care of your dad. You had to go back, there was no question about it. You loved your dad, more than you feared going back to... that. All you could do was hope that your relationship, if you could call it that, had cooled over the past three years. For the second time in your life, you said goodbye to your closest friends, a place you belonged. With a heavy heart, you packed up your things and boarded the train.
He didn't come to greet you at the station nor did he try to reach you at home. Everything was quiet, calm. Over the next few days, you didn't see him at all. It was like he'd vanished off the face of the planet. Maybe he'd forgotten, maybe he'd finally lost interest. You felt comfortable enough to start classes, commuting to and from campus in your dad's car--picking up groceries and doing the little things your mom didn't have the time or energy to do. You could get used to this, living a peaceful life in a peaceful town.
Josuke confronted you two months after you'd moved back. He'd called out to you while you were shopping downtown. He was wearing his uniform, his hair teased and perfectly styled. He was bigger than you now, towering over you. He had a hangdog expression on his face.
"Can we talk?" He asked, his eyes firmly looking downwards. "I... I wanna to apologize."
Apologize? That was like a lion apologizing to a gazelle. You almost laughed at him, actually having to hold back a chuckle. He couldn't be serious.
"Look," he said, kicking his foot softly against the ground, "it won't take more than a minute or two. I just wanna talk. That's all. Please? Just don't make me do it here. Let's go to the park. You know the one we used to play at? The one with the purple slide?"
He looked up at you, and you were struck by how handsome he'd become. If you didn't know that a stalker hid behind those sad eyes and pouting lips, you might've been swept away. As it was, you still felt a little compassion for him. He'd given you this time to yourself, to take care of your family. Maybe he had changed. Maybe...
"Okay," you said slowly as the words were stuck in your throat. There'd be people at the park, there were people everywhere. You'd be safe. He couldn't do anything. "Just a minute."
You let him lead the way, your sense of direction dimmed after years of being gone. You wove your way through familiar streets, saw familiar faces, passed by landmarks from your youth. This felt like a new start, a fresh look at things. You wound up at the park a few minutes later, and the two of you stood by the swings. He obviously wanted you to sit down with him but you refused. It'd only be a minute, right?
"What did you want to say?" you asked, crossing your arms. There were less people around than you'd hoped. You quietly looked around and noted a police call station.
"Ever since my grandpa died," Josuke said, looking you right in the eye, "I've come to realize that... that I've treated you wrong. You're supposed to cherish the people you love. And I... I love you. I know you don't feel the same, but I still love you. But I wasn't treating you the right way. I did all those things, all those terrible things to you. I want to say that I'm sorry, for all of it. I hope you can forgive me. I know I don't deserve it. It's just... everything got put into perspective, you know? I just want to be friends again."
He shrugged and broke eye contact, his hands in his pockets. His bottom lip quivered, and tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. You paused for a moment, lost for words. There was a kindness in him you'd never seen before, a sensitivity brought out by family tragedy. He'd matured, right? He'd looked at himself, at his life, and he'd changed. That didn't excuse what he did, not by a long shot, but he was here--baring his soul to you. He was in pain. You felt your guard weaken just a little.
And that's when he struck.
One moment, you were reaching out to touch his arm in sympathy and the next, you don't remember. Everything went dark like a candle being snuffed out. You'd very briefly felt something touch the back of your neck, someone picking you up, and then you slipped further into unconsciousness.
"Don't worry, anyone! She's fine. Just going to take her home... I'll treat you right this time. I promise."
You weren't even sure you were awake. You couldn't move your body. You tried to twitch your toes, your fingers, roll your shoulders--but nothing. There was something heavy on top of you, surrounding you. You were suspended in something cold and hard. You didn't want to open your eyes but then you heard Josuke's voice.
"Time to wake up," he said gently, as if to a lover. "I have to explain some things to you before I go."
You shuddered, as much as one can shudder when their body was immobile, and opened your eyes blearily. You were in a basement somewhere. There was Josuke, that same look in his eyes that he had when you left town. He smiled, his canines showing, and reached out a hand to stroke your cheek. You wanted to recoil but you couldn't. Then it hit you.
You were trapped inside the wall, a concrete wall. Your face was the only part of you that remained. That pressure that surrounded you, crushed you, made your breathing hitch.
You screamed as loud as you could, sobbing, and Josuke put a firm and steady hand over your mouth. He brought up his finger to shush you.
"Quiet down," he said. "I don't wanna cover up your mouth too."
That didn't do much to stop you from making as much noise as possible. If you could, you'd be thrashing in fear but your body didn't respond. He'd confined you completely, better than any handcuffs or shackles could.
What had he done to you?
What was he going to do next?
Josuke grunted, annoyed, and pinched his fingers into your face--hard. The pain frightened you, brought you back into the moment. You quieted, and he removed his fingers. You'd have bruises where he touched you. He'd never actually hurt you before.
"Better!" Josuke said, brightly with his eyes shining. You felt like a dog being praised for doing her business outside. "Much better! I really didn't want to do this to you. I wanted to take it slow but, ya know, there's a serial killer on the loose!"
You looked at him, your mouth slightly open and your eyes wide. You stammered something, incoherent even to you.
"Oh, it's not me!" He said, chuckling. "I wouldn't do that. I definitely wouldn't do that to you! I just need to keep you safe, that's all. Until this whole thing blows over. Once we catch this guy, we start back where we left off."
"Josuke," you said very quietly, making yourself sound as calm and rational as you felt panicked and fearful. "please let me out. You said you wanted to apologize for all those bad things you did. A good way to start would be--"
"Of course," Josuke continued, having seemingly lost interest in your words, "we'd have to make it official this time. I was so stupid to wait!"
"Make it official?" Your breath caught in what you assumed was your throat. "What do you mea--"
"Get married! Obviously." He was fully in the grips of some terrible fantasy. "Then we can move out and have our own little place and, uh--" He paused, blushing, and looked away. "--all that stuff. We'll have to wait til we catch this guy and til I get old enough, but that's fine. I can wait a little longer."
He looked to you with a cheesy grin. It was like looking at a mask with carved teeth.
"Josuke," you said, "please--"
"I'm only doing this for your own good," he said. "I've gotta protect you. He'll never think about looking here, and this way I don't have to feed you or anything. You're safe now!"
"Josuke," you repeated, "please--"
"Don't worry about me," he said, clearly lost in his own little world. "I'll be fine. I'm a pretty tough guy and now that I have this power..." He leaned in close, his breath on your face. "No one is ever gonna keep us apart."
There was a pause, a nervous energy around him. He slammed his lips against yours, crushing your nose into his cheek. The shock of it made your mouth gape, and he took advantage of that to thrust his tongue in hungrily. He was going to consume you. You bit his lip as hard as you could, and he stepped back. His eyes were angry but he smiled, wiping away the blood with his thumb. He smeared his thumb across your cheek, painting you with it, and you saw the wound you'd left repair itself before your eyes. You were going to faint. You were going to scream. You were going to freeze in terror. But you couldn't do anything of those things. All you could do was watch.
"Well," he said, picking up a cinderblock from the floor with a strange tone in his voice, "I guess I'll have to cover your mouth after all. Don't be scared! I'll come back for you, when you're ready. After all, we've got the rest of our lives ahead of us."
You took one last breath to yell for help but your lips were sealed, trapped behind concrete. You couldn't make a sound as he kissed your forehead, but you could still sweat and twitch when he touched you.
"I love you."