‘Imagine you’re behind the wheel careening down a dark road at night. Would you rather spot a black towering silhouette beyond the trees in the distance, lumbering ever slowly toward you? Or gaze out your side window and see a slim shadowy figure running alongside your car, grinning at you across the glass?’
‘That’s creepy as, dude,’ you reply weakly.
‘At least you got a choice,’ I beam, watching you all squirm in your hypothetical vehicle as you ponder this ridiculously farfetched conundrum. I’m clearly enjoying this a little too much.
‘Definitely would pick the monster in the distance. At least there’s a chance of outdriving it,’ Emma is the first to respond. ‘That thing would be slow as shit, right?’
‘Yeah, that thing running next to your car is creepy as heck,’ Brennan chimes in.
You’re clearly still imagining the two ghastly things outside your imaginary car, unperturbed by the discussion going on around you.
‘Come on, Bec - what’s it gonna be?’ I see your eyes narrow at the coaxing.
‘I veer right and ram the creepy fucker,’ Bec utters. Everyone bursts out laughing.
‘This isn’t D&D, Bec!’ Emma chides.
‘Hah, roll for it!’
‘Option three, motherfuckers!’ is your hearty response.
As the night draws on and all the drinks are chugged, I notice you still deep in thought.
‘Thinking about going back for that poor dude you ran down?’ I grin like I imagine my dark runner would, gingerly plopping myself down next to you. Your head turns slowly toward me, comprehension seeping into your dark eyes.
‘Wha-? I didn’t run nobody…oh, you mean that creepy shithead. Yeah, definitely gotta go back for that guy and make sure he’s dead. D. E. D. Dead.’ You manage a forced chuckle.
‘You good? How you getting home?’
‘Yeah man, all good in the hood. I’m gonna call it a night soon.’
You let out a fatigued sigh and I decide not to probe. Everyone’s had a long week, and perhaps a bit too much Korean food.
‘Do you ever find yourself waking up super tired most days? Even after 8 plus hours of sleep?’ you speak after what feels like an eternity of silence.
‘Only like every day,’ I jokingly respond, although you clearly catch the glimmer of truth in my eyes.
‘This work life is shit, isn’t it?’ you spit out.
‘Ugh, tell me about it.’
‘You working this weekend?’
‘Fuck no.’ It felt good sticking it to the man, albeit in a sad feeble denial of income.
‘Wanna hang out?’ All I could think was - I thought you’d never ask.
That weekend turned out to be an eventful one, assuaging my guilt at turning down the weekend shift. After a hike and a movie, we got down to business - Bec seemed like she desperately needed a good kneading, and my doughy body did the trick.
As she dragged herself to clean up, I fetched an object below the bed that had gone astray during our entanglement. It turned out to be Bec’s fitness tracker, a slim cerulean rubber band with a slender rectangular bit in it. The device lit up as I brought it to my face.
‘Oh, I keep forgetting to wear that damn thing,’ Bec comments upon seeing my intense inspection. ‘Should have put it on for our hike.’
‘And kept it on just now for extra “steps”, eh?’ I shot back devilishly.
‘Nah, it wouldn’t have picked anything up anyway.’ I gasped in mock shock, and held my hands to my heart from that savage blow. Bec cackled like a witch on steroids, then collapsed to the bed and promptly fell asleep before I could remark on the 3,000 steps showing on the fitness watch.
I tossed the wearable back onto the dresser by the bed and tucked the weary lass under the covers before cleaning myself up, thinking no more of it.
It would be another fortnight before I would see Bec again, and this time she looked alarmingly haggard, as if she had been sleeping on the streets.
‘Which street corner have you been bunking at lately?’ was the best opening line I could come up with.
Bec smiled wanly after a moment. ‘Still look better than you, you hairy fuck.’
‘Have they even been paying you?’ I chortled and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. She sank a little bit.
‘Didn’t I tell you? I quit that hellhole already, yo!’ You raise your fist in victory, and if you didn’t look so darn tired I would have thought you made the right decision.
‘And joined the army?’ I fired back.
You utter a tired laugh. ‘Yeah, maybe I should, hey.’
After the others come and go, I end up sitting with you at the bar until we both lose track of time, and you begin to unload about your previous workplace and how the system really ground you down and sapped your energy and enthusiasm. It was heartbreaking, but not enough to stop me from taking advantage of you in your moment of unemployed frailty.
We go back to your place again, and as we enter I’m struck by a sour musk, addled as my senses are by the booze and horniness. In the dark, I fail to locate the source of the smell, but alas it is not enough of an obstacle to prevent me from completing my mission, my duty to a poor, forlorn young lass in her time of need.
This round I’m not even sure if you finished, but you doze right off and I’m left to assume you were satisfied, so I groggily clean up and plop myself back onto the bed to call it a night. As I turn to drop my chain onto your dresser, dim digits light up the darkness and I think to myself: the battery on this thing lasts ages!
The numbers on the rectangle read out 11,578 next to a little foot icon. That’s an impressive number of steps, I thought to myself, before everything went dark.
I awake to a messy room and an empty bed. Bec’s place is even more dishevelled than it was the last time I was here. My silver chain is no longer on the dresser, and neither is the watch. A quick sweep of the carpet below returns my accessory to me, as the light is barely poking through the dense cloud of curtains.
As I lurch out into the lounge, I am stopped by the outline of a familiar female. You’re standing in the dark lounge towards me, still dressed in the top and jeans you wore last night. Well, pulled back on after you woke up, that is.
I notice your legs are trembling, and as you step forward into the light I catch a hard glint of steel and a dull wet slap as your foot hits the floor. Is that blood beneath your feet?
The point of the knife elicits an involuntary yelp from who I can only guess is me as it stops where my abdomen was a second ago. I frantically pick myself up from my stumble as you advance towards me, waving the knife in a foreign dance, bags around your pinpoint eyes. I see sweat all over your forehead as the light catches your face.
However, my attention is on the knife as it follows my every move, and I miraculously manage to push myself out of your apartment and run to my car. Disturbingly it is still night, with only the diffuse light from the streetlamps to guide my path across the parking lot. Thank heavens for keyless unlocking. I pull open the door, but as I pause to gaze around before jumping in, I notice I am not followed. The Bec I thought I knew, or whoever that was wielding the knife, is nowhere to be seen.
I curse and spin around behind me.
Nothing there.
I peer cautiously into the back of my vehicle. Nothing hiding in the dark recesses under the seats.
My ears are on full alert; I’m wide awake at this point. The faint sounds of crickets punctuate the still early dawn silence.
I get in the car and drive, speeding across the parking lot, away from that dark, musky place. I speed through a red light, my arms shivering and back crawling; I feel sobs welling up from deep within my chest, but all I can manage are ragged, raspy breaths.
I suck in a cold, long breath. The speedometer is past 70 at this point, and I’ve lost track of where my foot is, where any part of my body is. And I turn to my right, and there you are, right outside my window, grinning.