Page 4 of Death's Obsession

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.

What on earth does he mean? My fingers fly across the keyboard, stringing together words to let him know just how sick I am of his games while in the back of my mind, I am hoping he doesn’t take me seriously and continues with said games.

“Who are you texting?” Evan questions sharply, watching me from the threshold of the room.

I almost drop the phone like I’m trying to hide incriminating evidence. I’ve done nothing wrong, and I have proof in my hands that I haven’t been imagining him. The Faceless Man is the only one that hasn’t been treating me like I’ve lost my mind. But I can’t bring myself to show the messages to Evan, be it for fear that this may just be a trick my mind is playing on me and I’m as crazy as everyone says, or that there really is a man that comes into my room at night and touches me.

I’m not convinced either way.

I try to plaster on an innocent smile, then realize that I wouldn’t normally smile at such a question. At least the Lili after the accident wouldn’t. The Lili before would have joked and asked if he was jealous. This Lili speaks as little as possible outside of Dr. Mallory’s office. “Work.”

He eyes me suspiciously but just grunts. “I’m going. You’re out of bread.”

I don’t respond, staying glued to my spot long after my wooden floor creaks beneath his departing steps, and my front door clicks shut.

We used to kiss before he left. We used to say exactly when we would see each other next, like we had to know for certain that the sun would rise the following day. He didn’t fill my heart completely, but after this past year and a half, I realize what he did fill was my time and the void of meaningless wandering through life.

My attention focuses on the slight tear in the wallpaper, just above the space Evan had occupied, and all thoughts filter out of my mind until there is nothing but white noise.

You’re dissociating, Dr. Mallory told me once. Your mind is going into a state of refuge.

I should be over mourning what Evan and I once had. I should be done with grieving my old life. But truthfully, I barely remember it anymore. You can’t grieve something you lost, when you don’t remember ever having it.

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