When I was a kid, I lived in a small village in a rural area of England. Me and my parents lived inside of a small bungalow, which I later learned was rented (there were financial issues, mostly due to my dad’s drinking problem and my mother’s refusal to work). I was the kind of kid who preferred her own company most of the time, but I will admit that I did feel kind of lonely sometimes too. I was very shy, too shy to try and play with the few other children who lived in the village. School was very difficult for me especially. Because of my quietness, oddness and the issues going on in my home life, I was the designated “weird kid” whom everybody should avoid.
But then one night, I met him. I was 8 at the time. I was laying in my bedroom wide awake. My father was out drinking and my mother was passed out in the living room. I heard someone moving around outside my bedroom window. I thought it was my dad, I thought maybe had finally decided to come home early for a change.
I climbed out of bed, stalked over to the window and peeked out. I saw a tall man in a dark brown trenchcoat. He scraggly neck-length hair and he looked to be in his mid-20s. He had bandages covering his face. He saw me and I got scared, so I ran back to my bed. I didn’t bother calling for my mother, because I knew that she wouldn’t be able to hear me.
The man climbed in through the window and walked up to my bed. I was shaking because I was so scared. But his green eyes became soft and he quietly said “Hello.” His voice was kind of raspy, but it had a gentle quality to it too. It eased my nerves a little.
I asked him who he was and why he was outside my window. He said that he liked going for walks at night, and that he saw an owl in the tree by my house and that he wanted to take a closer look at it, because he was a bird watcher. I asked why he didn’t have binoculars, and he told me that they didn’t work at night.
He sat on my bed and ruffled my a hair a bit. He asked me how old I was and, well, what my life was like. I was a bit hesitant, but, his intentions seemed innocent enough. I told him about the things I liked to do, what my favourite films were and that sort of stuff. Then he asked me about my parents, my mother especially. I told him all about my dad’s drinking and my mother’s emotional issues. He seemed very sympathetic and it really eased me up to him.
I asked him to tell me some things about himself. Like why he had bandages on his face. He told me that he didn’t like having all of his face shown, because he had “blemishes” and that he had been bullied as a kid all the time because of it. I then asked him about his family and he told me that he didn’t have one. He never met his father and his mother had died when he was a 18.
He told me that even though my parents weren’t perfect, I should still be happy to have them. And he told me not to worry when they weren’t being good, because I could just talk to him. I started to like him then. He seemed very nice, inspite of his rather unsettling appearance.
He promised to meet me again the next night. I asked him what his name was, and he just told me to call him “Bandage-Face”. I liked the name. It sounded funny.
…
The next night I eagerly awaited the arrival of Bandage-Face. My parents’d had a nasty fight when I got home, and my dad had stormed out after my mother had hit him in the face with a book. My day in school hadn’t been any better either. A bunch of girls had locked me inside a closet as part of a prank, and it took the teachers ages to do something about it.
I heard a tap at the window and I swiftly opened it so I could vent to Bandage-Face. I noticed that he looked a bit tired that night, like he had been doing some strenuous physical activity. He told me he had been jogging.
When I had told him all about what had happened, he gave me a big hug and it had felt so soothing. I wasn’t used to being hugged. Then he pulled out some sweets he had gotten me and we both ate them as we talked. He gave me a bit of advice on how to deal with stress and I made sure to listen closely. Then he ruffled my hair, and went on his way.
I was really starting to like his company.
…
The next night he showed up and gave me an offer. He asked me if I wanted to go and take a ride in his car to get some air. My parents’d had another nasty fight, and I just wasn’t comfortable being the house at the moment, so I said yes to Bandage-Face’s offer. By that point, I’d grown to trust him quite a bit. He was the only real person in my life (besides my grandparents) who seemed genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.
He helped me out of the window and lead me over to his car. It was aged and dirty looking, but surprisingly clean inside. We drove around for a bit and talked, and I gazed out at the night landscape of the village from the passenger window. I could see why Bandage-Face liked being out at night so much. The moon was beautiful. It was full and had a yellow tint to it that night.
He drove up to a petrol station and went inside to get a drink. Feeling bored inside the car, I absentmindedly opened the glove box and I found a file inside. The file was filled with pictures of women, and they all shared the same characteristics. Shoulder-length black hair, pale skin and blue eyes. My mother had similar characteristics.
I saw Bandage-Face coming towards the car, and I quickly put the file back inside the glovebox, worrying if he might get mad at me.
He drove me home after the petrol station visit.
…
The night after, he asked me if I wanted to go for a car ride again (He was also wearing a a scarf that night, instead of the usual bandages). But this time, he had a surprise for me. We were going to play a prank on someone. I was so excited, I had never pranked anyone before. We drove for awhile that night, and we stopped by a small cottage just outside the town.
Bandage-Face pulled out a bottle of fake blood from the glovebox and told me to rub it on my arms. Giddy, I did as told. I was so excited fro the prank we were going to pull. Then, we exited the car and walked up to the cottage.
“Try to look as scared as possible okay?” He whispered to me.
I noticed a very… tense look in his eyes as we walked up to the door.
He banged on it a couple of times and after a few seconds, a short woman opened the door. She looked similar to the women in the pictures inside of the file I saw yesterday.
“Can you help us please! My daughter is hurt!” He shouted at the woman, while holding my shoulders. I tried to look as frightened as possible.
“Oh shit! Come in! I’ll call an ambulance.” The woman said before rushing away.
“Go back to the car and wait for me okay, Sarah. This part of the prank is a little… its a thing only a grown up can do.”
I nodded, but felt a little disappointed that I couldn’t see the rest of the prank. But I did as told and skipped towards the car and got in. Bandage-Face was inside of the house for a long time. I almost fell asleep in the car because it was so warm and cozy inside, compared to the bitter, late-autumn coldness outside.
I was broken out of my half-asleep daze by Bandage-Face getting back into the car. He looked tired and his face (from what I could see of it) was completely drenched in sweat. I asked him about the prank and he smiled beneath the scarf and said:
“I just frightened her a little bit. She thought it was hilarious.”
He drove me home after that.
…
The next day, my parents were terrified by something on the news. But they wouldn’t explain to me what it was. They just told me that they were going to go send me to live with my grandparents for a little bit.
But that “little bit” soon turned permanent when my dad’s drinking finally caught up to him and he died from alcohol poisoning, and my mother was sent to a mental hospital, because her mental health worsened soon after. I guess they did care about each other after all.
…
I’m seventeen years old now and I’m still living with my grandparents (and I’m currently enrolled in the local community college). My mother is out of the mental hospital now and has been for several years, but I don’t visit her. She has tried to get into contact with me several times, but I refuse each time. I just have too many bad memories of her. Maybe one day I will be able to see her again, but for now, I just can’t.
I had almost completely forgotten about Bandage-Face until last week, when the memories started coming back. I asked my grandparents about why my parents had sent me to live with them so many years ago. They told me it was because of a murder that happened in my town. A young woman was found raped and strangled inside a cottage she had been renting.
When they told me that, the memory of that night completely engulfed my mind. I ran upstairs and vomited my guts up into the toilet. I damn near passed out. I was bedridden for two days afterwards. I just felt so… filthy.
I was used as a pawn by some psychotic maniac.
When I feel a little better, I’m going to go to the police and tell them everything.