[Trigger Warning](#s “talk of animal death”)
Hey all. Sorry. I’m not exactly sure how to start these things. I’ll offend you, maybe, if I say I usually stay away from sites like this. I’m a shut-in in, sure, but I’m not that much of a shut-in in to be browsing internet forums all day. I just…didn’t know where else to go about this. No one else would believe me, y’know.
I think I’m like a lot of people here, just sort of no one from nowhere. But my name’s Jolene (Yes, like the song. My father cheated on my mum while she was pregnant. The woman had a bitter sense of humour.) and I’m 24. A bona fide failure. Can’t keep a job. Failed out of every educational venture I’ve tried to pursue. You get the point. And perpetually single.
Not for lack of effort, not necessarily anyway. Well, last week I went on a date. Things were fine…I suppose. The actual date anyway. He was kind of boring and we clashed a little but I thought…it was fine, y’know? Like I’m lonely and he wasn’t the most appalling person so. I agreed to another date. He-I suppose for the sake of clarity I ought to give him a name. Lets say Mark- says he’s going out of town. I feign disappointment (not too much feigning, again, I’m lonely). I ask when he’ll be back. He says a month. He says he’ll book me in as soon as he gets back. I laugh and kind of hope not. I’ll still be lonely then but maybe the crushing mood will pass.
So all that’s whatever right. We’ve all been there. A crappy date. A crappy life perhaps. Mark drops me home. I’m sitting in the spare room of the dingey little shack of a house my mum left me, amongst boxes of her things. She passed two years ago (cancer. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m in therapy, I’ll take my mental issues to a psych not a bunch of internet weirdos (no offense)) and I still just have a bunch of junk in boxes. I’m feeling like a failure. You get the point.
Mark texts. I wasn’t expecting it, kind of dreading it actually. I might have wanted the company, like, in person despite not being overly enthusiastic about the man. Texting on the other hand? Doesn’t fill the same void unless you actually like the person, in my experience.
Do you worry about them?
I blink away tears, whatever moping I was doing now forgotten. I’ll be honest my first thought was something along the lines of ‘oh great he’s a freak as well as a snore-fest but that’s mean for one and for two almost immediately after I thought of another explanation.
hey its jo? did u message the wrong person? Idk who ur talking about?
Have you seen them? They’ve seen you they tell me they have
mark, r u feeling okay? do u need me to call someone
I’ve had my fair share of mental health struggles. And I’ve had friends who are paranoid or hallucinating or whatever. I don’t think I could be a tremendous help to someone in mid-crisis but I have some experience.
They killed the cat. Check.
This threw me for a second. My childhood cat died when I was 17. Hit by a car. My mind is conjuring up this convoluted story about people conspiring to kill poor Vincent (I told you my mum was funnnny). And then, again, I’m hit with an alternative theory. There’s this stray who I’ve named Marcie. Gorgeous cat if she wasn’t so malnourished and sick. I’ve been feeding her for a bit. Almost got her tame.
I get this urge to go check on her even though I don’t even know if she’s outside. I imagine it, her body all hung up. Something written in blood. Feel sick to my stomach. Normally I’m a nervous wreck about these things but it’s like. I don’t know I can’t get the image out of my head. I want to check just to prove it’s not real. Plus. Maybe Marcie doesn’t have anyone else. And I think. I don’t really have anyone, not close by. What if that was me all strung up and some cliche message written in my blood? I guess sometimes when you’re really alone you just want someone to bear witness. And Marcie is just a cat but still. She deserves that.
So I make my way walking light and quick and nervous to the front door and open it, just a peek. Nothing immediately terrifying. I go outside.
“Marcie?” I call out as if this little stray knows what collection of sounds I’ve called her. “Marc?”
I walk over to where she normally is, a little garden bed that use to be filled with flowers when my mum was into gardening. Now it’s just a tangle of dead things and whatever’s managed to survive. Marcie’s there.
I grab her. Didn’t even really think about it. Just did. She’s scratching, biting. But I’m just so relieved. She’s not dripping blood. Just a cat that is kind of mean and doesn’t want to be held. I hold her tighter. I just keep thinking that I’ve got to keep her safe.
So I turn to walk back into the house, take this struggling little cat with me, and there in the driveway is Mark.
I think, oh god it was all a trick. I think fuck he’s a murderer or something. He made me worry about a cat just to get me out here to kill me or…god knows what else. But I try to play it cool.
“Mark?” That dumb scene from the room is playing over in my head and I want to say it. Go ‘oh hi mark’ and cut the tension but then I think. What if he doesn’t get the reference? What if he does but he thinks fuck shes one of those…some dweeby loner who thinks its quirky to have seen some shit film. But I haven’t even seen it you know? What if he gets it and he starts talking about it and I don’t even know what he’s on about?
Mark hasn’t moved. He’s still just there, staring at me. I think. It’s too dark to see his eyes but he’s facing me anyhow. I walk towards him a little only because I need to, to get inside. Rude to go in and just leave him there but I’m torn. I’m not looking to get my skin more torn up than it is with Marcie.
“Mark?” I say again. He’s still looking at me. Still facing me I mean. So he must be looking at me because I’ve moved. “You shouldn’t be here man. That’s weird. It’s creepy.”
Marcie hisses in my arms. She’s not biting me anymore. Her eyes are fixed on Mark. I want to kiss her fur. Say something like I knew we were allies you and I. We’re all alone and we know this isn’t right.
Marcie jumps out my arms suddenly since I’d relaxed my grip at our new found comradery.
“Bitch. Traitor.”
She runs for Mark and then stops a little bit away. Hisses again. Fluffs up, tail stuck up straight, arched back. A real Halloween caricature this little black cat.
I could’ve just went inside since our friendship was apparently over but…I’m a cat lover through and through. I mean you’ve read this far. What kind of woman in my position isn’t. Crazy cat lady and all that.
So I chase after her and Mark is scarier close up. His eyes are all wide and bloodshot (on something?) his mouth is hung open just a little. Like when you’re a kid or you’re focusing on something and you just forget to close it. His hands are intertwined against his chest.
I grabbed hold of Marcie. And I realised Mark’s car isn’t there. He doesn’t live close. Maybe an hours walking distance? And at this time? Whatever time it is? As if on cue I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.
I jumped remembering where I was. That my little revelation ought to make me move faster not have me sitting around thinking about it. My head nearly collides with Mark as I stand and I stumble back (grasp firm on Marcie now, though she’s struggling less.)
He’s moved closer and worse there’s this terrible smile plastered across his face. Stretched ear to ear. And I mean it. Or…I sort of do. It’s stretched up, gums showing and back as far as it can go. It looks _painful_.
I step back again, eyes trained on him and heart beating fast. I can feel Marcie’s heart racing against my hand too. I don’t look away as I step back.
Tucking Marcie into one arm tightly, I reach behind me to turn the doorknob. I don’t want to look away from him. But I’m struggling so I look at the door for just a second and it opens but when I look back he’s moved again. Only a few steps but like. Fuck. You know.
I practically jump inside. Slamming the door behind me so fast it nearly catches Marcie’s tail. I lock it. And I turn. Back to the door. Let the cat down. Just take a breather. When I look behind me he’s right there. Staring in. Smile wider. I rush to lock the back door. secure the windows. All of that.
Come to check the front and he’s gone. I don’t sleep that night. I grab some chicken from the fridge, take out two bowls for Marcie. Cut up the chicken into one. Take them to the bathroom, fill the other with water. Go grab anything that can conceivably be a weapon, some food and a glass for myself and lock the two of us in there. Chair propped up against the door and all.
As I’m sitting there I remember the notification I got outside and also remember I’ll need to get my phone charger. But I check the notification and it’s Mark.
I’m annoyed, obviously, until I think. How’d he text me?
You can’t trust anyone
Ominous. Ironic. Something I would have laughed off as some paranoid edgelord sadboy crap otherwise.
whats ur problem? what was that? get off my property i never want to see you again
Call incoming.
I answer angrily.
“You’re a fucking creep!”
“Psycho bitch what the fuck are you accusing me of?”
“Standing outside my house? At what is it…fucking three in the morning?”
“Did you have a bad dream you pyscho? I’m not at your house.”
“Real funny. And that bit about the cat being killed? That’s fucked.”
“Yeah it’s fucked.”
He sounds even madder. I go to check the conversation. Take screenshots. Not for Mark the creep. But to show someone? The cops maybe? A friend? Post it online like ‘Stay away from this man he’s hanging out around houses at three in the morning and talking about killing cats’?
The messages are gone. All that’s there is the last conversation we had before the date. Me announcing I was at the restaurant. Hours ago.
“I don’t know how the fuck you know my daughter’s cat died-“
“Your daughter?”
“Yeah, well I’m not gonna tell some tinder slut about my kid am I?”
Someone shushes him in the background. He tells them to fuck off.
“I’m at the vet cause her cat is poisoned and some tinder slut messages me saying I’m on her property?!”
I want to say that he’s fucked. That I’ll call the cops. That it’s messed up to lie about a child’s pet dying. But I think of the voice shushing him…and I don’t know it’s all so confusing. But he’s hung up. ANd blocked me.
Anyway I end up getting the charger and me and Marcie spend the night in the bathroom. I order her a litter box and litter and proper food. And all the cat things. I’m nervous to go out and get the packages when they arrive even though it’s the middle of the day.
But slowly I’m working through it. The fear you know?
Yesterday I get a message from Mark (Unblocked apparently)
Watch out for whose watching. They see through mirrors. They see through keyholes. They tell me what they’re watching
dont message me
I block him. But then. Me and Marcie are watching tv. And I look out the window and I see a figure in the driveway. It’s like…ten at night. Eight hours ago? I rush to lock everything, make sure it’s all secure. And when I get back he’s like right up against the glass. Marcie is there, fluffed up. arched back. Tail up. Hissing.
I want to calm her, protector and yet I can’t look away. We’re like that for hours. Her hissing. Me, one hand on her back just staring at him. And him there smiling impossibly wide. We’re like that till my phone buzzes (just some silly notification for some stupid phone game).
I look at my phone, back on the couch where I’d left it and when I look back Mark is gone.
I’m just? God I dont know. Any words of comfort would be a blessing. I suppose I’ll keep you all updated if anything else goes down. I could just use. Some friends right now I suppose. I’ve been up all night and I’m too on edge to sleep.