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Three bouquets of roses, two boxes of chocolates, and one handwritten letter splayed themselves out across Larissa’s nightstand as she pored over them. “I just don’t understand,” she muttered to herself. “Why?” They had all mystically appeared at her doorstep without any indication of who had actually sent them, and the most recent (and disturbing) gift was the letter.
Dearest Larissa, please excuse the many interruptions. I just need you to know how much I love you. I’ve never quite met anyone like you before, and I’m begging you to stay exactly the way you are right now. Yes, you’re persnickety, and you’re obsessive, and you’re high-maintenance beyond belief, but you’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing as deeply as I know you. We didn’t leave off on the best of terms. I understand that. All I want is to confirm that I still love you in case you never want to see me again.
“Good God,” Larissa said as she read over the letter again. The handwriting was unrecognizable, but the paper was probably littered with—
“Fingerprints?” Sheriff Galpin asked later that morning. “You seriously want this checked for fingerprints?”
“Yes! Sheriff, it’s imperative that I get to the bottom of this.”
“Aren’t you being a little excessive?” Larissa raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, you know what? You’re exactly right! I’m just being irrational and stupid, aren’t I?”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“Well, when I get murdered by whoever this stalker is, you can enjoy living with the guilt of having dismissed my concerns.” Sheriff Galpin groaned and held out his hand.
“Give me the letter.”
“You’ll investigate it?”
“Yes.” Larissa smiled politely.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Please leave.”
“I was just about to.”
Larissa was quietly cursing out some sudoku on her computer when the phone began to ring. She picked it up and grimaced at Sheriff Galpin’s gruff voice on the other end. “Principal Weems?”
“This is she.”
“I have some interesting news for you.”
“Oh?”
“Besides our fingerprints on the edges, there wasn’t a single trace of anything on that paper besides ink.” Larissa’s heart sank slightly, and she nodded in defeat.
“Alright. Thank you for trying.”
“I really don’t even know how your secret admirer achieved that. Pretty impressive.”
“Sneaky little bastard,” Larissa mumbled. “Well, would I be able to have the letter back so all my evidence is in one place?”
“Of course. You can come pick it up whenever it’s a convenient time.”
“Thank you again.” For nothing.
“Any time.”
“Well, have a good day!” Larissa said after a painful moment of silence.
“You too!” Larissa hung up the phone and buried her face in her hands.
“I’m going to get murdered.”
After taking the letter back from Sheriff Galpin, Larissa stayed up late analyzing it from the comfort of her own bedroom. The paper had no distinguishable scent, the handwriting—while unrecognizable—was oddly elegant, and the ink looked almost blood-red in the lamplight. “Alright,” Larissa said as she began to jot down some notes in her yearly planner that she had never actually used before.
Morbid. Still classy. Ended things w/ me on terrible terms? Brutally honest. Morbid. MORBID. MORTICIA.
Larissa frantically called Morticia’s number and, once she answered, began to tremble slightly. Whether it was from rage or fear would remain an eternal mystery. “Hello?” Morticia asked.
“I always had a feeling you were a little bit enamored of me, Morticia, but this is something else entirely.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“Larissa, I’m genuinely confused.”
“The roses. The chocolates. The letter. Why?”
“I’m not the person to ask; I have no clue what you mean by that!” Larissa let out a clipped laugh.
“You’re funny, Morticia. Fess up already.”
“I’d never send anyone roses with their heads intact! You know I always cut them off first.”
“Oh.” Larissa deflated. “That’s actually a valid point.”
“I’m sorry you’re being inundated with strange offerings, but they aren’t from me.”
“Well, good.” Larissa cleared her throat and fidgeted with the blanket draped over her lap. “You have a husband, after all.”
“That I do.”
“Mhm.”
“Right.”
“Yes.”
“I’d better get going,” Morticia finally said. “I have a sleep schedule I’d like to maintain.”
“You aren’t nocturnal?” Morticia sighed.
“No, Larissa. Goodnight.”
“Goodni—” Morticia ended the call. “Fuck.” Larissa glanced back at her notes with a frown. “Who else could it be?”
Morbid. MORBID. MORTICIA.
“We saw how well that went.” Larissa crossed out Morticia’s name when suddenly, her eyes went wide. “Marilyn! Laurel! Whatever! Trying to kill me counts as leaving off on bad terms, doesn’t it?” Larissa turned off the lamp and curled up in bed, closing her eyes with a smile on her face. “Tomorrow, I’m giving her a piece of my mind.”
The next day, Larissa marched up to a random apartment in Jericho and rapped at the door (not in the same way Eminem would, just for clarification). “Anybody home?” Larissa called out.
“Yes! Yes, I’m coming!” Marilyn swung open the door and stopped dead in her tracks as she stared up at Larissa. “How’d you find out where I live?”
“How’d you find out where I sleep?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You should be.” Marilyn shook her head.
“Larissa, you’re speaking in riddles.”
“If it wasn’t Morticia who left all those things outside my door, then it was you. You’re the only other person I know well enough.”
“Are you sure?” Larissa threw her hands up in the air.
“Yes, Marilyn! Obviously!”
“Laurel.” Marilyn smiled. “Laurel Gates, if you really want to get technical.” Larissa furrowed her brow and cocked her head.
“Wait, are you related to Bill Gates?”
“I’m his cousin.”
“Oh, lord. That explains a lot.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome.” Marilyn glanced down at the ground, and Larissa literally twiddled her thumbs. “Anyway, are you being honest about not stalking me?”
“Completely and utterly.”
“You swear?”
“I swear.”
“On?”
“The Gates bloodline. Microsoft, too.” Marilyn chuckled. “And my naturally red hair.”
“No need to brag.”
“Just think of it this way, alright?” Marilyn leaned closer to Larissa and grinned. “If I wanted to cause you harm in any way, shape, or form, I’d have no qualms about doing it openly.” Larissa forced a smile.
“How comforting.” Marilyn giggled.
“Do you want to come in for tea?”
“No.” Marilyn’s face fell, and Larissa sighed. “Marilyn, I have more important things to attend to.”
“Laurel.”
“Sorry. Laurel.”
“You’re not a very good person, Larissa.”
“Is this because I’m not drinking tea with you?”
“No! I’m just making a general observation.”
“Well, I got a letter from someone saying they love me exactly the way I am.”
“Okay?”
“Which means it really wasn’t you who wrote it.”
“I already told you I haven’t been involved in whatever’s happening!”
“And I didn’t believe you.” Marilyn scowled.
“Get away from me.”
“What do we say?”
“Get away from me before I kill you.” Larissa took a step backward and smiled awkwardly.
“Okay! Fine! Goodbye, Marilyn. You have a lovely morni—” Marilyn sharply slapped Larissa across the face, and Larissa stared at her dumbfoundedly. “What was that for?”
“My name is Laurel. I’ve said it about a million times.”
“Then goodbye, Laurel.” Marilyn glared up at Larissa.
“Goodbye.” Larissa fought the urge to dart away from Marilyn as quickly as humanly possible and calmly got into her car, driving back to Nevermore and making her way towards her dormitory. Once she reached the door, her heart sank into her stomach. Another letter.
Dearest, dearest Larissa, you still haven’t caught me! How fascinating. I’m sure Morticia and Laurel are just over the moon with you for sucking up their precious time. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long while, if I’m being completely honest. I do love you. Just remember that. Now, put your little detective hat back on! Happy sleuthing!
Larissa stomped into her room, snatched a pen from her drawer, and furiously scribbled away on a loose leaf of paper.
This might be entertaining for you, but it isn’t for me. If you’re not a completely spineless waste of space, then meet me at the town square no later than 7 PM. No earlier, either. Fuck you.
Larissa shoved her letter underneath the door and spent the rest of her day pacing across the room and mentally preparing herself for whatever catastrophe was about to take place. Once the sun began to set, she shakily stepped out into the hall and grimaced. Her letter was gone. “That fucker had better actually show up,” she grumbled.
Larissa slipped out of the Nevermore doors for the second time that day and drove to the town square, parking far enough away from it that whoever this little admirer was wouldn’t be able to track down which car was hers. She practically tiptoed toward the square and wrung out her trembling hands, but she was all by herself when she reached the grass. She glanced at her atomic clock that she casually kept with her at all times and took a deep breath. 6:59 PM (and 37 seconds, but who was counting?). “Come on,” Larissa said. “Come on.” 20 seconds left. “Don’t make me look stupid, whoever you are.” Larissa crossed her arms as she tapped her foot expectantly. 12 seconds left. Then 7. Then 3, 2, 1, and—nothing. “I should have known.” Larissa slumped over and trudged towards one of the trees, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fuck.”
“Behind you, Larissa.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Larissa whirled around, and her heart almost leapt out of her chest. “My God, it’s you!”
“Who else would it be?”
“I just—I wasn’t expecting—I don’t know.”
“Did you miss me?” Larissa nodded as tears welled up in her eyes. “Aw, Weemsie.”
“I thought you were never coming back.”
“Well, believe it or not, I missed you. Quite a bit.”
“And you decided the best way to get in touch with me was to scare me out of my wits?”
“Yes.” Larissa laughed, wiping her tears away.
“You’re horrible.”
“So are you.” Larissa beamed up at Lucifer and finally threw her arms around them.
“I love you, you giant idiot.”