Death's Obsession

I rush to the kitchen, as fast as my feet will carry me without alerting Evan to my disheveled state. My body thrums with nerves and pent-up need—need for what, I don’t know. It doesn't feel like I can breathe until the familiar flimsy plastic bottle is in my hand and Dr. Mallory’s white tablet is being washed down with water.

The sidewalk on the other side of the street is visible from this spot in the kitchen and so are the apartments directly across from me. I can’t count how many times I’ve fought the urge to knock on their doors to ask if they saw the Faceless Man in my room.

I won’t bother asking Evan if he saw the man, or if he heard him whisper those three words. The answer will be a solid no.

“Is this all?”

I lower the glass of water onto the table and turn to Evan. “What?”

Just say it, Lili. Just say those five words: I’m breaking up with you.

He holds up my black wallet, with the PU edges peeling and the threads fraying. “Are these all the tips that you made?”

Just say it, I think to myself. “I had to see Dr. Mallory.” Damn it, Lili. I cringe inwardly. Come on. You know that he’s dragging you down. You’ve been meaning to say those five words for months now and you still haven’t.

He sighs and rakes his hand through his sodden gold hair. The soft morning light filters through the window, washing his face in an ashen glow. When did he start looking so depleted? He used to be so beautiful, so full of life and love, always insisting we go on adventures and drive up and down the coast, camping out in the back of his truck. Until I became too scared of driving out of the city. Though I was never really happy with that life; it always felt like something was wrong or missing.

Say it.

He sighs disappointedly. “I told you that they’re dropping my hours and that you need to make more tips.”

I frown. “I’m a barista, Evan, not a waitress. I stand behind a machine and make coffee, there’s not much I can—”

“Maybe you should try a little harder.” He throws up his hand. “It doesn’t hurt to maybe smile more or actually talk to the customers. It isn’t their fault that you haven’t given them a reason to tip you more.”

I lower my voice to dampen any emotions before they overflow. “I needed to see Dr. Mallory.”

Dr. Mallory. Medication. Rent. All the reasons that meant that I never had more than a loaf of bread and a packet of pasta in my cupboard and powdered milk in my fridge because it works out cheaper than the real thing.

Evan and I used to cook all sorts of fancy meals with each other, back when we had money and a life. I liked making the food, and he liked eating it while I was still preparing the meal. My sister, Dahlia, used to call us a power couple.

“What about my needs, Lili?” He shakes his head. “Didn’t you think about me before you went to see her? I told you that money is tight, and you go waste it on a shrink that clearly isn’t helping very much.”

“I thought—” I shut my mouth before I dig my grave deeper.

I was at the grocery store when I thought the Faceless Man was standing behind me, pulling my hair off my shoulder to breathe in my scent. I felt the tenor of his breath on my neck as he whispered, “You smell divine, my midnight storm.”

His chest was against my back, but I was frozen with the thought that it was finally time to face my demon. When I finally gathered the courage to turn, the only other person down the aisle was an old woman peering at her shopping list. Except out of the corner of my eyes, I swore I saw Dahlia bloodied and bruised. Just like that, the Faceless Man was less frightening.

Maybe she’s telling me that it’s time to face my fears and visit her and my parents at Millyard Cemetery. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I could tell Evan exactly why I needed to see Dr. Mallory, but he’d call me crazy. Like he always does. The two times I showed him the charcoal marks on my body, he called me “fucked in the head”. Then he muttered something along the lines of me being the problem, not the medication.

Just say the five words. I’m. Breaking. Up. With. You.

“You’re so selfish sometimes, Lili. How many times do I need to remind you that you aren’t the only one who has needs,” Evan scolds. I look away from him as tears burn my eyes and threaten to fall. But I know they won’t fall, they never do.

Evan has done so much for me already; he stuck around and made sure that I didn’t drown myself after I lost Dahlia in the accident. Well at least, when I did drown, that death didn’t take me. So maybe I didn’t really owe him anything.

Evan latches onto my arm and turns me to face him. “Don’t you turn away from me when I’m speaking to you.”

His fingers dig into my skin hard enough to leave a bruise. “You’re hurting me,” I gasp as I yank myself out of his grasp.

His eyes widen, and I take a step back as he reaches for me once more, circling his fingers around the same tender place. He pulls me to his chest, flattening his hand down my back and peppering half-hearted kisses to the top of my head. “I’m sorry baby. I didn’t mean to. You know how I get in the morning when I haven’t had my hit.”

Three slow, ominous knocks shake the walls of my small apartment and we both tense.

“What was that?” Evan pulls away. “Did you hear that?” He moves to the front door and checks outside. No one will be there. Because he is outside, standing on the sidewalk, looking straight at me.

The Faceless Man.

Sometimes he wears a hoodie, sometimes he wears a cloak, sometimes he wears a cashmere coat. Every time, his hood is drawn over his head, shrouding his face in shadows. Even though I can’t see his eyes, I know that he can see my soul. I’m waiting for the day that he takes it.

Chapter two

Lilith

I blink and the space where the Faceless Man once stood is empty. I dig the heel of my palm into my eyes and consider taking another one of the pills. They’re meant to stop the hallucinations, but they’ve done nothing of the sort.

My phone chimes from my bedroom. I ignore Evan’s frustrated rambles about people knocking on doors at seven in the morning and how now he doesn’t have enough cash to top up his stash. I let my brain go numb and my feet lead me to where my phone is left lying in the center of the bed.

My brows knit together at the unknown number staring back at me. I unlock my phone to read the message. Chills rain over my body and I throw it back onto the bed.

No.

He communicates in letters, not texts. It can’t be him. When did the Faceless Man adopt modern technology? This could be the proof that I need, a message on my phone showing that he’s been watching me this whole time. That I didn’t make this all up.

I take another fortifying breath and pick up my phone. Squeezing my eyes shut, I count to three and tell myself that I’m not imagining things before opening them again. The text is still there, sitting in a grey bubble in my inbox.

Unknown Sender: Death comes in shadows in the light; it does not need to wait for the dark. For him, I will come as a hurricane.

No matter how many times I read the message, I can’t make sense of it. Why must it be so cryptic? Without really thinking it through, I send a response:

Me: Who are you?

I stare at the message thread, waiting for a response, but nothing comes. It was a stupid idea anyway. This whole situation is entirely one-sided, he talks to me and taunts me but doesn’t want to hear what I say.

I nearly jump out of my skin when the phone chimes again. Honestly, I didn’t expect him to respond. Mustering all my emotional energy, I read the message.

Unknown Sender: You know me as well as I know you.