Red, almost purple, shades flushed the blocky shape. Lines began to form around its edges from strain and the maw of it opened releasing words which still echo through my mind. “Shut up! Shut the FUCK UP!”. At three years old this moment taught me a valuable lesson, a core belief if you will, that I still carry.
Your tears are a nuisance, and your feelings don’t matter.
It’s been twenty years since I heard those words, and though he’d like for it to be otherwise, I don’t speak to my father anymore. As a matter of fact, there are very few people that I still speak to these days, and the advent of working from home en masse has made it so that I don’t need to forgo an income to do so. The only person I still talk to is my roommate. He even does the groceries for both of us, I just pay for my half, so I never even need to leave the apartment.
His name is Jaime. I found him by putting out a listing online about six months back, and up until recently we’ve gotten along great. There’s something about the guy that instantly causes you to like him. Maybe it’s the way his eyes light up when they see you, making you feel as if you genuinely matter, or maybe it’s the way that he always seems to think of you, taking your absently muttered wants into account. Regardless of the why or how, He quickly won me over in both affection and trust. Up until recently it was impossible for me to see those bright eyes framed by the dark curls of his hair and feel anything but safe. I was at ease.
I now wish I’d known better.
It all started roughly a week ago. I was near the end of my workday, just tidying up some projects before calling it a night, when I heard the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock of our apartment door. A surge of elation washed over me, my heart jumped in my chest, and I forgot to breathe for a moment. I wrapped up what I was doing and went out to greet the highlight of my day. The lock clicked and the handle turned, allowing the barrier between my mundane and the rest of the world to briefly leak for a moment. The one thing, the one person who I’d let into my world then stepped through and I couldn’t help but bare my excitement for him to see. What new stories would Jaime hold from his day out in the world? What new joy would I feel at beholding the novelty of his perspective? The door opened and I beheld.
Blood.
Old enough to look sticky, but still fresh enough to flow, the crimson fluid was running down Jaime’s forearms and off of his hands. It was dripping, leaving marks on the door, its handle, the floor, and by my feet. I took a step back in surprise and confusion. I don’t doubt the shock I felt at the time was etched onto my face and in a moment, though I sought to avoid it, my eyes met with His. At the onset his bright eyed enthusiasm seemed present, but as my gaze lingered his smile became strained, forced, and it ultimately seemed that those heavenly creases were doomed to soon point for the depths. His brows furrowed, eyes grew wide, and I looked away. I dreaded what might come next.
“Can you get me a towel? I’m dripping all over the carpet.” As Jaime spoke he seemed more exasperated than usual, it was clear that this had not been a day of joy or amusement for him.
“….Happened? What? What Happened?” It took me a moment, but I was able to shake myself out of the shock induced paralysis I’d been in. I ran to the kitchen then and grabbed him a towel.
“I bought a tenderloin at the grocery store on my way home from work. The package burst when I was taking it out of the car and I got blood all over my arms.” He seemed only mildly annoyed by this. As if it would be like it never happened once he got the blood washed off.
“Maybe double bag it next time.” I passed Jaime the towel then and as he reached out to take it I noticed something. A scratch, or rather four of them, all in a row leading up his forearm. I couldn’t breathe, and my heart began to scamper recklessly across my ribcage. There was only one thing that could mar a man’s skin like that. In my panic I tried not to stare, but I knew that he’d caught me in an absent minded glare. What would he do now that I’d noticed? What would become of me?
A mischievous grin broke across Jaime’s face then, and he chuckled as he spoke. “Oh yeah. I keep telling her we aren’t kids anymore, but she can’t help herself. Things can get so passionate between the two of us.”
“Who?” I stammered out.
“My girlfriend, silly.”
“I didn’t know that you had a girlfriend.” I said, with growing confusion.
“Sure you did, I mention her all the time. Anyways she’s a really lively woman, as I’m sure you can tell.” He blushed a bit as he spoke. “I’d get hell for this at work if anyone ever caught us.”
“You better keep it covered then.” I paused, maybe even long enough to make you think I was finished, but something was still egging at me. “Where’s the tenderloin?” I asked.
Jaime took a moment to answer then. He was now evidently preoccupied with washing himself in the kitchen sink and the running water was almost enough to drown out my words. His response to them was clear and resonant. “It fell on the sidewalk when it burst. All that blood greased it up like a carnival swine.”
“Is it still out there?”
“God no! I threw it in the dumpster. Luckily for us the truck is due for pickup first thing in the morning, so hopefully it’s cleared out before any pests are drawn to it.”
“Fair.” I blurted. “So what are we eating tonight?”
“You leave that to me. We both know you’re a pretty hopeless cook.”
The evening shifted back into normalcy after that. We ate dinner, made small talk, and I put aside my paranoia. I’d become good at doing so. All the false alarms constantly going off in my head had told me not to trust myself. Sometimes leaning on Jaime’s perspective was the only way to keep me grounded. He seemed to know so much more of the world than I did and I hoped to trust him more than anything.
Things were normal for the next couple of days. I would work, Jaime would come home, and we’d have the same standard conversations that we always did. It wasn’t until three days later that things deviated again, and much worse than before. I only wish I’d figured it out sooner.
It all started as normal as ever. I woke, worked, and waited for Jaime to come home. I’d long since dispelled any suspicions I had previously held and anticipated another mundane evening. Then the door opened, and I saw blood again.
He was standing there almost the same as last time, but not quite. Unlike the prior occasion he was now holding a bag and as he walked towards the kitchen silently. I thought I could see something poking out of it. Small, slender, and adorned by colour at its point. A woman’s finger was poking out of the side of Jaime’s grocery bag. He opened the fridge and after shoving aside some produce, as well as taking out one of the shelves, he put the whole leaking bloody bag in our fridge. Then he turned and stared me dead in the eyes before saying. “It was all on clearance. If we freeze it we’ll have enough meat to last us through the summer.”
I stood stunned and speechless. Eventually I was able to nod and spit out a single word. “Okay.” It was all I could muster out of myself and I hoped for dear life that it would be enough.
A pause prolonged between both of us and then he spoke. “I’m going to cook up some of this for dinner. Any preferences for how I do it?” So casual were those words of his that they almost lulled me into a false sense of security. For a moment I almost forgot what he was cooking.
“Uh… No preferences. Just do whatever you want with it.” I tried my best to act casual, and after giving him the response he asked for I subtly slunk back into my room. I remained within, and had no intentions of leaving. As I hid there my home gradually became permeated by a smell, or rather smells. First like charcoal, then beef, and lastly the sizzling fat of pork. Gradually the aromas of Jaime’s victim filled the spaces around me and though I’m ashamed to admit it, my mouth watered.
There was a knock on the door, some two hours later, and I heard his voice. “Dinner’s ready. Come eat dude.”
“Uh…No I’m not feeling too well. I think I have food poisoning.” I’d have said anything to get myself out of what he had prepared for us that night and to get myself out of leaving that room.
The door handle began to turn then and though I ran towards it I wasn’t quite quick enough to stop it from opening. I was however, able to arrive at the doorway just in time to meet Jaime face to face, as he peered through the ever growing split between door and frame, and though his eyes were his own his face certainly wasn’t.
Sewn to his head, along the outline of his cheekbones and forehead, was a new layer of skin. It rested more rigidly on his face than any living layer could, and though it would never move of its own accord again, the mouth of it had been pinned into a permanent upward crescent. A smile wrought from cruelty.
I slammed the door shut, eager to be rid of the sight, and though I expected resistance from the demon on the other side I was met with none. The door had flown shut with no resistance whatsoever. I leaned on it with the full weight of my body in a desperate bid to keep Jaime away. I couldn’t bear to share air with someone capable of such acts. Then he started talking again.
“Well I’ll put some in the fridge for you and you can come eat it when you’re feeling better. You’re sure you don’t need anything?”
“NO!…… I mean, no. I’m fine, thanks.”
“Well okay then. Let me know if you change your mind though.” I still don’t understand how he was able to sound so concerned for my person when he had another sewn to his face.
It’s been four days since then. I haven’t left my room since that evening and I certainly haven’t spoken to Jaime. He does talk though. Every night he knocks on my door and asks if I need anything and every night I ignore him. I’ve been trapped in indecision. I know that I need to call the police and I know they need to take him away, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do it. I worry that Jaime will find out and kill me before they get here. Worse than that though, even if it seems like nonsense to you, I worry that they wouldn’t listen to me. After all, he might be the only one that ever has.