Hi. My name’s Dylan. In 2015, I worked a night shift at a gas station outside my city. I was in a really bad state of mind for the entirety of 2013 and 2014 since my younger sister committed suicide at the beginning of 2013. At the time, I was 22 and I got really depressed. I started drinking to ease the pain and smoking to calm myself down. I dropped out of college and ruined my life. I distanced myself from my friends. I started to live with my parents and didn’t really try to find a job. I just spent my days sitting in front of the TV or walking around the forest. My parents were amazing people and did whatever they could to help me. They suggested me and paid for my group therapy which actually helped me a lot. Through 2013 and 2014, my state of mind started to get better and I even found some new friends. Even though I never re-emerged as I was before my sister’s passing, I was getting better.
Since I was getting better, my therapist suggested that I get a job. He told me that it could be a distraction but that I shouldn’t stop coming to the sessions since everyone in the group built strong bonds with each other. The sessions usually took place at 8 PM. Because of that and the fact that I’m a night person, taking a night shift just made more sense. Half of the group was just like me when it came to this meaning that I also had someone to hang out with and talk to. My best friend, May, worked from home as a writer. We usually went to get some coffee after the sessions but before I started with work. I started at 10 PM and sitting down in a diner on the outskirts of the city before work was amazing. Sometimes, others joined us, but about 5 out of 6 times, it was just the two of us.
Our conversations were mostly dull from my side. I’d start with stuff about the job or how things are at home. May would then talk about her day, or more accurately, night, and about some celebrities or something. I wasn’t really into that but if she could listen about my job, I could listen about her celebrities. The fun part of our conversations came when she started to talk about her books. She’d tell me about the stories and characters she wrote about. Asking me for opinions and advice was our favorite part of our conversations. We’d talk about the characters and I usually gave her some advice because of which she sometimes changed the complete story thinking that my idea was better. She sometimes called me ‘the real writer’ or ‘the ghost writer’ even though my ideas and pieces of advice were only the smallest parts of her stories.
Our conversations were lifesavers and they clearly made us get better mentally. That’s why I was dumbfounded when on the 14th of April, 2015, at 8 AM, I got a message from May’s sister. May had committed suicide by hanging herself and left a letter exclusively to me. Her parents took it as a sign that she committed suicide because of me while her sister understood that I would never harm May or make her do that to herself. After all, my sister did the same thing and it left me basically dead for 2 years. May’s sister brought me the letter and I thanked her. After that, we decided to never see each other again since we would remind each other of May. It would be just too much to go through.
I was too tired and was not in the right state of mind when I got the letter. It was around 11 AM and I just couldn’t handle reading it at that moment. I was too tired and just the surprise and sadness forced me into a terrible state of mind. I just couldn’t read it at that moment. My mom came to calm me down a bit but she had to leave for her job. I fell asleep around 1 PM and slept for 9 hours straight. I realized that my shift should have started the moment I woke up and I panicked completely forgetting about May. I quickly tried gathering my stuff and dressing for the job when I saw the envelope with the letter on a desk in my room. At that moment, I broke down.
After sitting down on my bed, I started to sob and tried calling my boss. He answered.
“Sorry…” I sniffed. “I can’t work tonight,” I cried. “My… my friends just committed…” I could not finish the sentence.
“Okay, son,” he replied. “My condolences. I understand that it’s hard and I can work tonight’s shift instead of you. I’ll try to get the others to help as well but you’ll have to return soon. You know that I’m short on staff and no one’s applying for the job.”
“That’s… that’s okay,” I replied. “Thank you.”
“Again, my condolences, son,” he told me in a sad tone. “I’m sorry.”
I managed to calm down after about 2 hours. My face was completely wet and I could not count how many tears fell into my mouth that day. I washed my face and for the first time after 7 months, I poured myself a glass of whiskey. I put it on the table and sat down on a chair. I kept my eyes on the glass contemplating whether I should drink it. I wasn’t strong enough to handle another person close to me committing suicide but I couldn’t just break my pause from alcohol just like that. Almost 2 years of sessions and a large amount of money would have been wasted for nothing. I tried using alcohol to distract myself from what May did, but it only gave me an arguably worse problem.
The glass was there like it was inviting me to do something terrible. It felt like its presence kept trying to corrupt me but my soul and body tried so desperately to fight it. My eyes widened and my head started to hurt as I started to feel hot. The sweat started to leave my body through the pores on my skin and I felt it run down my back and arms. My breath fastened and I started to shake. The shaking and bigger intake of oxygen made me dizzy and weak. I took a glass and put it slowly to my lips. It was shaking.
Before I drank any of the whiskey, I looked towards the table. There stood the letter I got from May. While leaving my room, I took it with me and put it there to read when I was ready. Seeing it made me remember her and all of our time together. I remembered how she talked about her heroin addiction and how hard she fought to battle it. I realized I needed to overpower my needs not only for myself but for her as well. That decided what I was going to do.
I stood up, walked up to the sink with the glass in my hand, and poured all the whiskey away. I washed the glass and left it in the sink. I almost started to cry once more. Reading the letter was the next thing I needed to do. I tore it open and took out everything inside. The first thing was a password for her E-mail. She used it for writing her stories and wanted me to read the last ones she wrote. The second thing was a picture of the two of us in the diner. She took a selfie one day just because she wanted to have a memory. The last was the letter.
Hey, Dylan. It’s me, but you probably already know that. If you are reading this, I’m surely dead. If I’m not, I will be soon, but not by my hand.
I loved our little conversations in that diner. You helped me get over my addiction so easily that at first, I couldn’t believe you were real. Thank you for all those beautiful moments and the amazing time we spent together. However, a month ago, I started using heroin again. One day, it just felt like something was possessing me and I just couldn’t resist it. I bought it and used it in an alleyway near my flat. It felt so good and I knew that I was going to start using it again. I couldn’t tell anyone, not even you.
The second time I used it, I saw something. There, behind the dumpster, in the same alleyway, I saw a thing. I don’t know what it was but I can describe it. It just looked like a human with extremely pale skin. Before I could get a better picture of it, it disappeared behind the said dumpster. Sometime later, I saw it again. This time, I took it in McDonald’s parking lot. When I took a look at the building, I saw it standing just behind a corner. I could only see half of it while the other half was obstructed by the building. It had no face and no genitalia. The lack of those features made it so much more disturbing.
The thing kept appearing like that. Obstructed by other things. It started to reveal itself more and more while at the same time appearing closer and closer. At first, I tried screaming and yelling but people just kept looking at me with confusion. When I realized that they couldn’t see it, I knew something was wrong. I used so much heroin that I started to hallucinate and I just couldn’t stand it anymore. After deciding I needed to end it all, I wrote this letter. I know that it’s selfish of me to do it and that it’ll have a negative impact on everyone around me, but I just can’t do it anymore. This hallucination got too close.
I contemplated what I should do and came to the conclusion that hanging would be the best. I’ll suffer a bit but it’s not nearly as messy as some other ways. I’m writing this in my bathroom. The light is on and I can see into the hallway of my flat. There, just behind the wall that separates the hallway and the living room, the pale figure stands. I can hear it whisper to me. It is unintelligible but I know it’s nothing good. The noose is hanging from the ceiling and the stool is waiting for me. The last thing I’ll ever see is that thing watching me but our friendship will be on my mind.
Goodbye, May.
I held the letter in my hand. I could not process what I had read and went through it again. What the fuck did I read? Before, her suicide was just that. A suicide. No matter how awful it was it wasn’t anything more. Just a broken person trying to survive in this dark world and failing, but this letter confirmed there was something much more ominous about it. The first thing I did was googling if it was possible to have hallucinations from heroin. It turns out that you could so it was clear that the entity she saw wasn’t real. The next thing I checked is how common an occurrence like this was. While it doesn’t happen every few minutes, people who return to their addiction after rehabilitation aren’t too rare. I found a few articles about people committing suicide after rehabilitation or during drug abuse. The weight of failure made it even worse for May and I assumed that’s why she did it.
It’s really hard, you know? To get rid of the addiction. It’s not just like deciding to change your diet or start working out. It just draws you in and tries to take control of you making your life worse. It makes you change moods quickly and you become dangerous to yourself and everyone around you. It’s so hard that people would rather commit suicide than go through the pain of having to erase the addiction. Other people voiced their struggles in the sessions and so did I. It’s a pretty common thing. However, those group sessions did something for all of us. Just spending time with people who are going through the same thing and hearing their problems and opinions on it made me realize it’s worth it to continue fighting. May realized it too, but she still did it. There must have been something else. Maybe abuse or something else she never told me about and she formed it as a featureless pale man in her hallucinations.
The next session was a quiet one. All of us just kept staring at the floor in silence and only answered with the shortest possible replies. The therapist was clearly concerned with how all of us acted and tried to make us feel better, but it went nowhere. May was an amazing person and most people even felt like she was a part of their family. When the session was over, the therapist asked me to talk alone with her.
“I know it’s a really hard time for you. You were very close to May,” she told me. “I heard about your little diner conversations from other people who took solo sessions as well. I’m really sorry this happened especially because of your history with suicide.”
“Thank you,” I told her.
“Please, if you need any help, I’m open to talking… as friends. You just need to call me.”
I spent another few days at home. I went outside only twice. First time to buy some flowers and the second time for May’s funeral. I stood to the side and while her parents were clearly unhappy about me being there. Her sister came up to me and hugged me while crying. I let out a few tears but remained calm during most of it. It was a perfectly normal spring day with the sun shining and giving me an idea of this bizarre irony. A beautiful person died, but the universe didn’t care. It just continued without ever looking back at it. What I’m saying might seem a bit weird to some, but to me, it just showed me that there is no meaning to our existence.
After the funeral, May’s sister walked up to me and asked me to visit the diner I usually went to with May. Her parents were looking at us with disappointment and anger clearly painted in their eyes, but May’s sister didn’t care. She knew I had nothing to do with May’s suicide and just tried helping me and herself. Both of us got there around 11 PM. We just needed to talk and find some comfort in each other’s company.
“Hey,” I said when I sat down next to her.
“Hi, Dylan,” Melina replied. “Happy to see you come. Honestly, I expected you to stand me up… due to the fear of my parents.”
“I’m a big boy,” I joked. “I don’t fear anyone.”
She chuckled while looking into my eyes. I noticed that she was already somewhat drunk. Her behavior didn’t scare me, but the fact that she was drinking did. If she ordered another beer or a shot… There were three glasses on the bar shelf in front of her. She ordered another two shots os whiskey before I could say anything. The bartender put one glass in front of her and the other in front of me.
The glass looked so refreshing. Its color, its taste… how good it felt to let it slide down your throat. I just kept sitting there looking at the glass. Holding it with both of my hands and spinning it, I got distracted. I didn’t listen to what Melina was saying. It felt like the glass was talking to me. The whispers it directed at me pierced my ears but no one else’s. I started to hear high-pitched ringing in my ears and I zoned out completely.
“Dylan?” I heard Melina ask me. “Are you okay?”
I looked at her before quickly looking back at the glass.
“Y… Yeah,” I replied. “I’m just… uhm… thinking.”
“I understand… It’s hard for all of us and I know how much the two of you meant to each other. If you don’t want to talk, you just have to tell me.”
“No… it’s just… the alcohol. That…” I took a breath. “That was my addiction.”
Her face changed into one of concern so quickly.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“No… it’s not a problem,” I told her. “It just makes me feel… uncomfortable.”
“You want to go somewhere else, then?” she asked me.
“No, no, no,” I smiled. “You can drink. It’s okay. It draws me in only when the glass is full.”
We ordered some burgers and fries. I drank a coffee while Melina continued with her alcohol. She got a bit too drunk after a while but was still able to walk and talk like a normal person. She was just louder and stumbled a bit while around a bit. After I realized that she won’t be able to drive, I helped her to get to my car and got her home. I found a key in her pocket while she was telling me something. I was sure that she was able to get inside her flat without my help but I wanted to help just in case. When we got in, she invited me to stay for some time. I had nothing else to do so I agreed. Oh, how mad her parents would have been if they knew about this. They almost started yelling at me during the funeral.
Immediately, Melina took out a bottle of vodka she had in the fridge and started drinking. We had a beautiful conversation. It was about the situation both of us ended up in. Our little sisters committed suicide and left us alone in this world. It, of course, wasn’t their fault but everything has consequences. Melina was just as smart and fun to talk to as May, only with different interests. She was a nurse at a nearby hospital and was apparently well-paid. She also said that she saw some suicide survivors and the wounds on their arms or other body parts. She wished that she could have been there to maybe save May… but she wasn’t.
“I need to go to sleep,” she told me. “I’m too tired. It was a tough day.”
“Of course,” I replied. “I should also head out.”
“Can you perhaps… stay?”
I looked at her. She was sitting on a sofa while I sat on an armchair. Her nails were red from blood because of all the biting and scratching. She placed the bottle of vodka and the glass on the small table in front of her.
“Sure…” I replied.
“Thank you,” she smiled. “Where do you want to sleep?”
“The sofa would be okay, I guess.”
“You can sleep in my bed… with me.”
She immediately started to defend herself after I gave her a surprised look.
“Not like that,” she replied. “I… I just want someone to hug me while I fall asleep. My parents aren’t really… helpful.”
I nodded. She gave me a quick and small smile before her expression turned to one of sadness. We laid down on the bed and I wrapped my arms around her. She told me that I can leave the bed as soon as she falls asleep if I want to. First, she started sniffing. Over time, it started to turn into sobbing. I held her close to me and we could feel each other’s warmth. Neither of us felt any romantic attraction to the other. We just needed someone to help us with grief.
It didn’t take her long to fall asleep. She stopped crying, but I didn’t. I made no noise apart from quiet sniffing while trying to breathe through my nose. I left her bed and went into the living room. After sitting down on the couch, I noticed the vodka bottle and the empty glass that was still on the table. I was tired and sad and couldn’t control myself. All of my effort in the last few months went out of the window and I betrayed myself.
The vodka went down my throat so easily. I practically chugged half of the bottle that was left. Physically, it felt so good, but when I realized what I had done, I was horrified. Sitting there, looking at the bottle on the table, I felt something. I felt like there was someone in the room with me. I jumped from the couch and looked around. In the pure darkness of the apartment, I could not see anything. I slowly took a few steps towards the light switch when I noticed flickering lights coming from the outside.
Through a window, I could see the street. It was a larger street in a busier part of the town so it was usually filled with cars and people even during the night. However, that night, it was completely empty. The only things I could see were the lamp posts and the bad street lights flickering. There, behind the flickering lights, the fence of another building’s yard obscured something… white. The featureless head peered from behind it showing its pale skin. It did not move, it just stood there with all of its unsettling presence.
Stumbling backward, my reaction was more one of a surprise than of fear though it built itself over time. Taking a step forward, I felt the thing’s presence even more. When I returned to the window, I saw it still standing in the same spot. For the next 10 minutes, it stood there doing nothing. The vodka started to settle in so the dizziness and drunkenness made me believe that it wasn’t dangerous or that I could defend myself from it so I laid down on the couch and went to sleep.