Nicole was the best sex I ever had. So good it ruined just about any woman I ever had after.
So imagine my glee when Nicole showed up at my door late one night, unannounced. I’ll spare you the details and let you know it was just as good as I always remembered.
Nicole never came back again. I tried to text and call her and track her down on social media, yet got nothing.
I assumed maybe she was married and it was just a one-off fling she had to get out of her system or something. I wasn’t complaining.
Nicole may have been the best sex of my life, but Becca was the love of my life. The only thing was I apparently wasn’t her’s.
I had bought the ring to propose to Becca and everything. I was just waiting for her birthday. Then I came home and she had moved all of her stuff out. She was gone.
The uncoupling was slow and steady. Her officially breaking up with me, moving out. Then came the not returning texts or calls. Then the unfriending and unfollowing. Then she was basically gone.
A few years went by. I moved on, but sadness always lingered. I never wanted to lose Becca. I never found anyone to replace her. Nothing ever felt right.
I had just drifted apart from another semi-relationship when Becca appeared again. Like Nicole, she just showed up at my house one night.
Becca wasn’t Nicole. We didn’t have an all-night sex marathon and then she crept away. We talked. We caught up until the sun rose. I was happy again.
I didn’t press her for more than that night. I didn’t want to scare her. She said she had recently broken up with a long-term boyfriend. She needed time. I was happy to oblige.
It started inconsistently. Becca would text me and then come over from time to time.
Then it started to progress. Becca came over every night. I fell in love, again.
Yet, something didn’t feel right. Becca being an impromptu night owl was completely out of character. She also wouldn’t let me in too deep. Wouldn’t tell me almost anything about her life.
She also wouldn’t accept my follow request on Instagram. It was extra frustrating, given it looked like who I assumed was her ex was in her profile photo.
I confronted Becca on it and she started to backpedal. I regretted it. She got defensive and left first thing in the morning.
Then she stopped communicating with me. I was alone and depressed again.
But it didn’t feel like it. I started to get scared in my own house.
The first thing I found odd was the behavior of my heating system. I kept it rather low, even in the cold winter since it was so expensive.
Everytime I went by the thermostat though it was cranked up. I would turn it down and then I would feel the heat kick right back on and find the temperature turned back up. There was no way of stopping it.
I worked at home and didn’t have a rather robust social life and was home 24/7, seven days a week. So this was a major battle.
I was trying to fix the thermometer when I got a piece of news which made my body go cold, despite the heat being cranked to 79 degrees.
My friend called me and shared a shocking piece of news with me. He ran into one of Nicole’s friends he knew from when Nicole and I were dating. Nicole’s friend let my friend know something horrible and shocking - Nicole had died in a car crash.
My heart shattered. It was the worst news I had ever received, even if Nicole had ghosted me a couple months before. I was numb. That numbness switched to horror when my friend shared another detail. Nicole had died two years ago.
I had him clarify. He confirmed. Nicole had died two years before. I Googled it and found an obituary.
I immediately didn’t feel safe in my house. Right on cue. I felt the heat turn on and looked at the thermometer. I watched the temperature start to climb right before my eyes.
-
I left the house. I wanted to confirm that I still lived in the real world. I left the house so rarely I sometimes wondered if I did or not.
I could confirm. I was very much in the world. I was alive. Nicole was not. Yet, she had shown up at my house.
My next mission was to confirm if Becca was alive or dead. She hadn’t replied to me in years so I reached out to her sister and got her to respond explaining my desperation given the situation with Nicole and her death.
Becca’s sister explained she was very much alive. She had just gotten married and moved to Canada with her husband. She was very much not spending a bunch of time at my house recently.
My brain was destroyed but I was trying to make sense of things as I sat in my house, suddenly feeling like something horrible was breathing all around me.
Someone was at the door, knocking, softly. I didn’t want to answer it. I knew nothing good could come from it.
I stayed frozen.
Another knock.
I had to do something. I couldn’t hide. I went to the door.
I could recognize her just from the silhouette. I could smell her familiar scent of gardenia perfume through the door.
My mom was outside. My mom had died five years before.
I opened the door and saw her standing there in her typical posture, smiling, happy, looking full of life.
I didn’t know what to do. I knew whatever was standing there wasn’t my mom. I also knew I couldn’t stand to close the door on her.
I looked into her eyes for a few seconds.
“It’s so good to see you,” my mom’s familiar, warm voice said just before I shut the door.
I couldn’t face it. I knew what was out there wasn’t my mom. I knew whatever was out there was either in my head, or it was something that was trying to do me harm.
I tried to maintain this thought while I listened to my mom cry on the other side of the door and beg me to let her in. The situation left me with only one option. There was no way to logistically explain what happened so I could no longer hold skepticism.
I briefly dated a woman named Penny about a year before. I really liked Penny despite her being quite odd. She had a fun and genuine affect and she looked like a happier version of Aubrey Plaza.
The morning after the first time Penny stayed over she left before sunrise. She made me go out to her car with her.
She told me I needed to move out of my house if we were going to keep dating. There was something evil in the house she could feel, and it was growing, and she couldn’t be near it. I also should not be near it.
I asked if she was serious a few times and she doubled down. I laughed it off and we parted ways.
She texted me about it that night. I never texted her back. Eventually I deleted her number.
Thankfully I still had her number in Hinge. I got her on the phone.
Penny listened to me explain what had just happened. She told me two things:
Penny explained she wouldn’t go into my house until the next sunrise. I had to make it through the night on my own until then. I should be able to. It sounded to her like I had a serious problem, but it wasn’t potentially fatal, yet.
Potentially fatal? What the hell had I gotten myself into.
Penny told me to sit tight. Turn off all the lights. Don’t use any electronics. Draw no attention to myself. Try to sleep or something.
That was all perfectly easy. I put myself onto the couch in the living room, threw a blanket over myself and popped a sleeping pill.
-
I had somehow fallen asleep. At least for a while. I woke up still in the darkness. No idea what time it was. The sleeping pill was still very much in my blood. I was impossibly sluggish. I couldn’t get up off the couch.
What I could do was see that the front door of my house was ajar and I could smell that perfume scent of gardenias in the air. I felt my mom in the house.
Why had Penny told me to not leave the house? She hadn’t really explained. Why was I listening to Penny again? Wasn’t the best idea to just flee the house? Isn’t that what you always scream at the characters in horror movies as they get themselves killed or further haunted?
I heard someone move behind me. Oh shit. I was finally able to get off the couch and jumped up, tensed myself up, ready to fight.
“You really need to lock your door,” Penny quipped as my senses took her in.