I would say that you’re all lifesavers, except it’s not quite that dramatic, but I do think all of you indirectly saved me. I’m not talking about the suggestions on how to handle the inhuman things, relationship advice with my friends, or even encouraging me to go to therapy. You saved me by being here, by giving me a reason to make these posts, and that has potentially kept me… me.
(if you’re new, start here, and if you’re totally lost, this might help)
I did talk to Grayson. It was super awkward. He said he was sorry and that he shouldn’t have yelled at me. Then I said I was sorry, he said I didn’t have to apologize for anything, and then I hastily changed the subject because I don’t want - I don’t know, maybe I just want to feel normal too.
I told him about what I saw, the creature with its fingers in Cassie’s head. He didn’t seem surprised by what I said, but he did seem troubled. His eyes narrowed and he stared intently at the ground in front of us, his fingers laced together and his jaw clenched. It was difficult for him to talk about these things and I’ve been wondering if it’s because of what’s happening to his dad, but haven’t found an opening to ask.
I’m not sure I should ask. I don’t want him prying into my… prior relationship and… I’d be very upset if he did, I think. I’m just. I don’t think I’m ready.
“That thing is part of why the student body remains largely unaware of the creatures around here,” he finally said.
The yearly turnover certainly did a lot to help the school keep its secrets, he explained. People went their separate ways and didn’t maintain the connections needed to pass along that sort of covert knowledge. I didn’t say this, but I was sure the administration had its own methods to keep people from talking too much as well. I mean, the flickering man exists. I could see the administration siccing him - or heck, the weirdly brainwashed campus security - on someone that was being too noisy.
This is why I’m so stressed at the thought of passing out the rules next semester. Sure, we do it in secret and leave them in places where they can’t be connected to me, but still. I’m starting to wonder if it’s not worth the risk.
Anyway, while these methods have been pretty effective, Grayson continued, there was one more thing that helped maintain silence among the students. It didn’t have a name or a title because, well, no one remembered it.
The creature I saw would sneak into the dorm rooms of students that had encountered the inhuman and then remove their memories.
“It probably started stalking you after your first encounter with the inhuman,” he said thoughtfully. “It might not have gone after you immediately though. It’s not very consistent in when or why it goes after a particular student.”
“Probably waiting until the memories taste the best,” I muttered.
Then I went still and it was my turn to lace my fingers tightly together and stare anxiously at the ground.
I knew what it had taken from Cassie. It let those memories of grief and loss fester until they were ready to boil over, and right as Cassie was on the cusp of some sort of closure… it took them from her.
I’m going to do the right thing. I’m going to tell Cassie what happened. She deserves to know.
“I know you told it to leave me alone,” I said uncomfortably. “I woke up when you were talking to it. I just… didn’t say anything because I figured you had your reasons for not wanting to talk about it.”
He didn’t reply. There was a brief moment of panic where I wondered if he was angry at me, but I took a breath and pushed that thought deep down into the pit of my stomach. Things were different now. Grayson was a different person than my last boyfriend. I’d respected his privacy - to the point where Cassie got hurt - so if anything I was the one that should be angry. If he’d told us something-
But maybe that’s not fair either. Maybe he thought it would leave us both alone and maybe it took his instructions differently. Inhumans are creative with their treachery.
I shouldn’t dwell on these things anyway. Second guessing myself won’t fix what’s already been broken.
“I appreciate that,” I continued. “But I’m a sophomore now - how come that thing didn’t get me in the first year? I’ve probably had more exposure to the inhuman than anyone else on campus.”
He laughed.
“Sorry, second most exposure,” I hastily amended.
“I don’t know,” he said, glancing at me curiously. “I assumed you had a way to protect yourself against it.”
I shrugged at him in confusion and quickly moved the conversation along. I’m not a good liar and I didn’t want him to ask any more questions because I do have an idea of why that creature wasn’t able to get to me before Grayson warned it off. There is something I’m doing that Cassie and Maria aren’t. It’s the only thing I’m aware of that I’m doing differently and I think that means it’s a strong theory as to how we can protect ourselves against this creature.
If I’m right, this is how you saved me.
I’m writing everything down and sharing it with you.
I messaged Maria as soon as we parted ways. I told her to immediately sit down and write out everything she’s experienced and put it somewhere safe, but also somewhere she can find it again. I’m not sure if it’s the act of writing something down or the act of rereading it (because I do look back on my latest post to read the comments, even though I don’t always reply), but if that creature gets to her, I want to at least have a plan. Because I have a bad feeling that now that it’s gotten to Cassie, it’ll be going after Maria next.
If this works… it’ll be time to add another rule to the list for next year.
I didn’t have a good opportunity to talk to Cassie for a few days. Exams are coming up and she’s finishing up some group project that actually seems to be going well. However, it means she’s not in the dorm very much and when she is, either her or I are usually studying. I’m also a little hesitant to drop something like this on her right before exams… but then something happened that convinced me that I need to not put things off forever.
The devil showed up. And he wasn’t here to help me study for exams.
“The problem with inhumans and mortals alike,” he said from directly behind me as I walked back from class late one evening, “is that they get complacent.”
I did what I always do, which is freeze up like a deer staring at an incoming semi’s headlights. The devil sighed and patted me gently on the shoulder.
“Really need to do something about that startle reflex,” he said. “You shouldn’t be out walking around by yourself after dark, anyway. There’s unsavory characters around.”
“Like yourself?” I muttered. I began walking again and he tagged along right at my heels.
“Precisely!”
“Can you just make your point and leave?” I sighed. “I know you have something you want to say.”
I didn’t have to turn around to know he was slightly offended by how direct I was being. He clearly intended to waste my time with banter for a little longer.
“Fine,” he sniffed. “As I was saying - you get complacent. Inhumans especially - since they lack the ability to change themselves, they have no choice but to remain as they are.”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“Your friend the laundry lady said she has a backup plan, didn’t she?” he asked quietly. “Are you depending on that?”
Yes, I was, in fact. I slowed to a stop and mulled over what he’d just said. The devil was trying to tell me something but in true trickster fashion, he wasn’t going to come right out and say it. I had to put the pieces together myself. The laundry lady was inhuman and inhumans didn’t change themselves. They had instincts and purpose, but no will. The laundry lady’s purpose was to punish the students that didn’t show proper gratitude to someone who assisted them… and the flickering man had interfered with that by destroying her realm.
“She’s rebuilding her laundry domain, isn’t she?” I whispered.
“It’s her default state. The witch that drags the naughty children off to her home. Except instead of an oven, it’s a washing machine.”
The laundry lady had initiated this entire feud with the flickering man, though. Wasn’t that showing some kind of initiative? Wasn’t that showing some kind of will?
Unless… unless…
“She set me up!” I half-shouted. “She just needs the flickering man to pay attention to someone else while she gets her laundry hell rebuilt!”
“Well, yes and no,” the devil said gently. “She needs the flickering man distracted in order to rebuild her realm, yes, but she also needs him out of the way if she’s going to keep it.”
I paused a moment to consider. I needed to think this through. If I were Kate, I’d be grabbing a shotgun and rushing out to shove the laundry lady down the stairs or something, but I can’t do that. That’s not me. So I had to be thoughtful and deliberate about my actions instead. I couldn’t keep merely reacting to events.
“But if she’s trying to get back to her status quo,” I said, “then once her realm is rebuilt and so long as the flickering man is distracted, she won’t have a reason to carry out her Plan B. I’ll be on my own.”
I didn’t want to say this part outloud. But if that happened, if I lost her support, it would only be a matter of time until the flickering man won our little duel here. Then he’d eventually go after the laundry lady and destroy her realm again, and she’d find another person to throw at the flickering man, and the cycle would repeat. It wasn’t necessarily malice. The laundry lady was inhuman and change wasn’t in her nature. She didn’t have anything pushing her forward once things got back to her normal.
“That’s why you’re here,” I said to the devil. “You’re the catalyst.”
Creatures cast into his role had a specific purpose. They existed to break the status quo.
“Humans get complacent too,” he said. “You’re nearly at the end of the school year. You’ve just been coasting along, hoping that the laundry lady will take care of your little problem here so you can focus on your exams. Which, I’m sure you’ll do fine at, and then you go home and do nothing about this until the start of the fall semester. I’m not satisfied with that timeline.”
I finally turned around to face him, dread curling in the pit of my stomach. Curiously, he had in his hand a half-empty trash bag. As I stared at him, he rummaged for a moment in it and pulled out a half-eaten sandwich. I wrinkled my nose at it, as did he, then he threw it casually over his shoulder. My eyes tracked it as it sailed through the air and landed on the pavement with a soggy splat. There was a long trail of garbage behind us, I realized. Empty soda cans and torn notebooks and even a banana peel. How long had he been following me?
It was starting to drizzle. A single raindrop landed on my nose (which still hurts, for the record). I gave the devil a hard stare. This timing was not coincidental. Then I stared back at the trail of garbage he’d left behind, like breadcrumbs betraying the lost children to ruin.
At the end of that line of garbage was something slowly trundling up the sidewalk. Its massive bulk swayed back and forth and it plodded on, its head bowed as it slurped up the garbage left in a neat little trail, leading it directly to me.
The possum mother was coming. And it was going to be angry when it saw the person that set its children on fire.
“How does this have anything to do with the flickering man!?” I screeched.
“I don’t know,” the devil said with a shrug. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Ah yes. The battle cry of the trickster. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I would have laughed, if it weren’t for the fact that a) I was on the receiving end of this bullshit and b) I kind of needed to run for my life.
For the mother opossum had spotted me and with a horrific, gurgling shriek, had dropped into a run to give chase.
“This is great fun, isn’t it?” the devil exclaimed. “I’m having fun.”
The bastard was easily keeping pace with me. I was running as fast as I could down the sidewalk, trying to remember what was up ahead of us and if it could provide some sort of shelter against the possum.
“Oh look, there’s the graveyard,” he commented. “You could hide in there. Here, I’ll help.”
I wanted to yell at him that no, I was not going in the graveyard outside of visiting hours, and why was he so keen on getting me inside, anyway? But he easily outpaced me with his long legs and was at the gate to the graveyard before I could say anything. Well, not that I could get anything out regardless, I’m still not a sprinter.
He broke the lock by crushing it between his fingers and stood there, staring back at me and beaming while the gate swung open.
Then the flickering man appeared out of the intermittent raindrops and punched the devil right on the jaw.
“You aren’t allowed here!” he spat, towering over the devil, who had hit the ground and was, uh, spitting blood out onto the sidewalk.
I mean. “The devil getting sucker-punched” is not something I ever expected to see in my life.
Then the flickering man reached down, grabbed the devil by the hair, and slammed him face-first into the pavement.
Friends, I am not proud of myself at that moment, but hear me out. I had a giant, angry possum mommy chasing me down. My protector had gotten taken down by my nemesis and wasn’t picking himself up nearly as quickly as I’d expected. Things were not looking good.
So I abandoned the devil and prioritized saving myself.
I mean, he’s the devil, right? I’m sure losing the fight was all just a part of his act to get me to seek refuge in the graveyard. (which, uh, I did) I mean, even if I’m wrong, he’s fine, right? He’s the devil. It’s not like you can destroy a creature like that.
I’m sure he’s fine. I’m sure the fact I haven’t seen him since then is just because he’s got more interesting things to do.
With both the flickering man and a giant angry possum around, the graveyard actually did look like the best choice for refuge. Also, all the nearby buildings were dark and silent. I didn’t particularly care to trap myself inside one of them with an angry inhuman stalking me down the hallways. At least in the graveyard I’d have room to run and besides, the devil had to be steering me towards it for a reason.
I ran in through the open gate. Behind me, I heard some sharp, meaty thuds of what I fear was the devil getting the shit kicked out of him. The flickering man was yelling at the devil in rage about how he wasn’t permitted to be here. Over and over again. The devil wasn’t allowed to be here. And the flickering man was infuriated by his presence.
I plunged into the darkness of the graveyard. There were no lights inside and the dim glow from the streetlights quickly faded. I stumbled through the rows of graves, the headstones nearly indistinguishable from the shadows they cast. If I just stayed near the fringe, I thought, I might be okay. If I stayed away from the tree.
I could see it, the barren branches blotting out the stars in the night sky. I cut to the right, putting my shoulder towards it, and hurried across the damp earth. Behind me, I heard the snuffling of a monstrous creature, its snorts as it tested the air carrying through the eerie silence. I couldn’t keep running from it, I thought. I needed to outsmart it and then escape the graveyard.
Possums had poor eyesight. If I could find something to mask my scent, then perhaps it’d go right past me. I glanced around, my gaze finally settling on a tree trunk jutting out of the earth. The weathered bark was covered with moss and with the light rain, it gave off a pungent smell of rot and damp earth. I ran to it and ducked down behind, huddling close to the earth to try to hide all of my body.
The snuffling noise was coming closer. I could hear the possum’s paws rustling the scant dry leaves on the grass. My heart pounded in my chest as I strained to place its location. Was it coming closer? Moving away? Moving past me? It was harder to tell than I expected. I covered my mouth with both hands, trying to stifle my very breathing.
Then the tree trunk moved.
It uncurled slowly, the pieces I thought were merely ripples in the tree’s form detaching like legs. The lump on one side rose up, creating a shapeless head, elongated and dripping with moss. Its joints creaked and cracked, tiny slivers splintering off as it moved.
As if it were made of stone and not wood at all.
I sat there, sprawled on my ass, gaping in terror as it unfurled, rising higher and higher above me.
I think the groundskeeper has a dog.
A shriek split the air, ripping my attention away from the inhuman thing directly in front of me. The possum could see me now, through the jagged legs of the tree stump - dog - thing. Its body rippled and I flinched, knowing what was next. The seam of its mouth split open, revealing a row of white, even teeth. Then it clacked them together, chattering like an excited cat, and began toddling towards me. Its belly swayed back and forth, distended by its children or the garbage it ate, I don’t know and I really don’t care.
The tree stump reared onto its hind legs. I rolled over onto my hands and knees, frantically scrambling to my feet. The gate. I had to get to the gate. Surely this was what the devil wanted me to see and so my business here was done.
The ground shook as the tree stump came crashing down again. I heard an enraged shriek from the possum. Good. Let them fight each other. I was getting gone.
I didn’t turn around. The possum’s shrieks echoed in my ears, accompanied by a sound like nails on a chalkboard. There was a low creaking, like the hum of some vast machine in my ears, and then the possum’s long, wailing shriek abruptly went silent with a sound like a branch snapping. I reached the gate and was out, onto the sidewalk, and running for my dorm. The flickering man and the devil were both gone but I didn’t care, I was running as fast as I could, trying to carry myself far far away from the graveyard and the monstrosity contained within.
The dorm was empty when I got back. I paced back and forth for perhaps half an hour before Cassie arrived. She eyed me critically but didn’t say anything, giving me the space to collect myself first. And maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe all of the devil’s talk about complacency had gotten to me, but I didn’t tell her about what had happened. Not right away.
Instead, I asked her if she remembered who Sarah was. Sarah, her former roommate. The one that died.
“Who?” she asked.
My heart sank. I slowly turned my chair away from my desk and sat down to face her. Then I told her everything I knew. About how Sarah vanished one night, after they encountered the inhuman side of campus for the first time. How Sarah’s mom had accused Cassie of being the reason Sarah vanished. How everyone around her forgot until she was the only one that remembered that Sarah existed, that Sarah was a person and lived and breathed and was now gone.
I told her that Sarah died.
And I told her that she’d loved Sarah.
Cassie didn’t say anything. She turned around in her chair so that her back was to me and she sat like that for a long time. But after we went to bed, when she thought I was asleep, I heard her crying.
I hope I did the right thing.[x]