“Get fucked Dave.” I exhaustedly replied to my best friend Dave, while staring absentmindedly at what was left of my Budweiser. I got that from my Grandpa. My affinity for shitty beer and Marlboro Reds came from my moms side of the family, and my antisocial personality and anxiety disorder came from my dads side. Hell of a combo.
“I’m getting fucked enough for the both of us buddy, don’t you worry.” Dave dismissively retorted.
I continued to stare right through him. My face burned red hot. I could feel people staring at me as they walked past. My breaths were shallow, my shoulders pressed forward. I looked as uncomfortable as I felt. Confidence never came naturally to me, I wondered if it ever would.
“You should really try Tinder man. It’s way easier to find chicks on there for guys like you-”
“Guys like me? What does that mean, fucko?” I quickly spat back.
“You know what I mean, dude. No game.” Dave laughed.
I chuckled and thought about what he said.
I once again shifted my focus to the TV behind him. My safe place. That 24” LED display on the wall that helped me detach from the fuckery going on around me. My disguise for being socially awkward and uncomfortable was always to make pretend that I was thinking of something far more serious and important. I never was.
We continued drinking and bullshitting until the bartender flicked the lights on at 1:30am, prompting us to close out our tab and start leaving. Dave and I parted ways, planning a night out the following Tuesday.
Back at home, the house was dead silent. It smelled slightly of teakwood candle, and a light breeze rolled through the main floor as I hung up my jacket, and took off my shoes. I always left the windows open when I left for the night. It felt cleansing coming home to a place where the air was new, and crisp.
Once Freya and I (my adorable 130lb great Dane) were snuggled into bed, I quickly opened my phone and searched the app store for a couple of the popular dating apps that Dave had told me about. I decided I would try Tinder first, just for the simple fact that most of the people that I knew used that one, and it was likely the most popular in my area.
There it was. I had set up my new account, completed the verification process, and uploaded a few photos of myself. I even made a short bio that I thought would no doubt get me a couple of matches right away.
Here goes nothing. I thought to myself as I started slowly swiping through the masses of fake profiles, and chicks who were obviously way too pretty for someone like me.
Then I saw her. Karissa.
According to her profile she was a 5’3 brunette, with heavy eyeliner and an affinity for the occult. Just my type. I’m not sure why, but I have always been attracted to those types. The outliers. The girls that were just weird enough to like me, but not weird enough to hide from my parents on Christmas. Her bio said that she was looking for something fun, but open to something more serious. Perfect. I swiped right on her, and decided I’d had enough for the night.
As I was brushing my teeth and completing my nightly routine of listening to The Andrew Hubermann Podcast I heard a small buzz from my nightstand in my bedroom, which was adjacent from the master bathroom. I quickly dried my face off and walked over to check my phone.
You’ve got a new match!
I excitedly unlocked my phone only to realize that not only had she matched me, she also sent me a message. So I quickly began replying.
Karissa: Hey :)
Me: Hey! How are you tonight?
Karissa: I’m great! Just getting started for the night, actually. Late shift.
Me: Ooo, we’re on opposite schedules. How’s that going to work? ;)
Karissa: I don’t need you awake for any of this.
Me: You don’t need me awake for any of what? I’m confused. You must not have had your “morning” coffee yet haha.
Karissa: To remove your skin, silly.
I immediately unmatched. What the fuck? I thought to myself. I felt a shiver explode down my spine. This can’t be what all dating apps are like.
After grabbing a drink of water from the kitchen, I foolishly opted to leave my windows open for the night. I live about 8 miles from the nearest town, and I know all of my neighbors. It is safe enough. But still, I could not silence the thoughts in my head of that message I got earlier from Karissa. After standing in the middle of my dimly-lit kitchen for what felt like hours, I shut off all the lights and made my way to the bedroom.
Just a few minutes later, I was on the edge of sleeping. The sounds of the breeze, and the summer crickets were starting to fade into the depths of my consciousness. My ceiling fan rattled and the small chain pull string was clinking gently against the light bulb on the bottom of the fixture. Freya was lightly snoring. I drifted off quickly and peacefully.
Almost immediately I was jolted awake by the unmistakable sound of my basement patio door sliding open. I had a large unfinished walk-out basement that carried sound throughout the house with ease. I jumped out of the comfort of my bed and immediately bolted for my bedroom door, locking it as quietly as possible. After triple checking that the doorknob was locked, I briskly walked to my closet. That’s where my gun safe was. I grabbed my 9mm M&P and chambered a round, already searching for my phone which was conveniently buried in the covers of my bed.
I hadn’t heard any other noises come from the basement since the patio door was opened. My heart rate began to stabilize and I quickly found my phone tucked underneath my pillow. A habit I had since I was younger, when my mother used to search through my phone nightly. Dead. Of course, I thought to myself. My phone charger was not plugged into the wall next to my bed. It had to have been in the living room, on the opposite end of the house where I was hanging out before Dave invited me out for a beer.
Fuck it. I’ll go downstairs, lock the doors, and grab my phone charger on the way up, I rationalized to myself while grabbing the cold knob and quietly unlocking it before twisting and opening the bedroom door.
As my bare feet tip-toed across my freezing hardwood floors, my heart rate began to pick back up. It was so quiet in my house that I could hear the thudding in my chest. I made my way across the dining room as the curtains fluttered back and forth in front of the window. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my mind couldn’t help but imagine the worst. A tall creature crouching in the corner, or a floating apparition of a girl without eyes, or maybe even a hillbilly with a shotgun. There was no other explanation as to why my heavy patio door could have slid itself open in the middle of the night. Was Karissa here to take my skin?
I carefully avoided the steps that I knew to be creaky, and finally I found myself on the cold slab of concrete in my basement. I scanned my surroundings, seeing nothing but my workout equipment and a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner. Finally, my eyes reached the patio door. Nothing. It was securely shut. I began to calm down, shuffling over to the patio door to look a bit closer. I jiggled the handle and made sure it was locked.
Chalking it up to the few beers that I had earlier, and my groggy sleep brain, I began walking back up the steps to secure the rest of the house and grab my phone charger. I reached the top step and rounded the corner into the dining room.
I was immediately face to face with a man. His skin was as white as snow, and his eyes were small and beady. He had no eyebrows, and no facial hair whatsoever. He was grinning at me, showcasing a mouth full of sharpened teeth. They were jagged, and uneven, as if it was done intentionally. I instinctively jumped back, or fell, depending on how you look at it. I found myself tripping backwards down the stairs, but I managed to catch my handrail about halfway down.
By some miracle, I still had a firm grasp on my handgun, and raised my sights to meet the left shoulder of the man at the top of the steps. I squeezed the trigger, and watched his collar bone explode into a red mist that decorated the wall of my stairwell. He dropped to his knees and began to howl in agony. I could barely even hear it. My ears were ringing and everything was muffled. I’d never fired a 9mm indoors, and certainly not without ear protection.
He was starting to rise from his knees, and his left arm was completely limp at his side. The look on his face was pure rage. He brought his right arm up, and I could see he had a long, curved blade. The kind with the hole in the handle for your index finger to go in. I raised my pistol once more and took aim at his head this time. Again, I squeezed the trigger and didn’t hit where I was aiming. The projectile struck near his eye, and his orbital cavity collapsed in on itself as his body went stiff and he awkwardly began tumbling down the stairs towards me. I quickly ran up the stairs, stepping right over the dead thing that was awkwardly propped face first in between the third and fourth step down.
As I was finally plugging my dead phone into the charger in the living room, my hearing was beginning to come back. Freya was losing her mind in my bedroom, barking as loud as she could and scratching at the door. I can’t even imagine how scared she was.
Five long minutes later, the entire front of my darkened house was lit by red and blue flashing lights. I ran down the front steps to meet the officers outside, letting them know that the intruder was dead on the stairs, and that I shot him twice after he raised a knife on me. I opted to stay outside while they searched the house. After about twenty minutes of shivering in the back of a police car, me trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on through my front windows, the police officers came outside and reconvened next to another officer’s squad car.
They asked me a ton of questions after that. I described the man, I told them about how he looked, and what his knife was like. I even told them about my Tinder messages I received from earlier in the night. I couldn’t actually show them the message because my phone was inside and it was deleted once I unmatched the girl, though. This is when things got interesting.
There were two officers. An average Caucasian male, late 40’s, maybe a bit overweight and a taller, Hispanic male who was younger. The younger stepped forward towards me and cleared his throat.
“It’s a bloodbath in there. We looked all over your house, and there is no one like you described inside. There is some damage to your drywall, and a bullet hole in the top of your staircase. We’ve called out forensics and they’re going to need to test the blood samples. Do you have anyone close to you that you can stay with tonight and we can meet at the station in the morning?” the officer asked.
My stomach dropped, and I began to feel lightheaded. No one there? I wondered. I saw him. I looked in his eyes. I shot him twice.
“Sure. If you let me grab my phone from inside, I’ll see if I can stay with my friend Dave. He lives just a few miles down the road.” I replied.
After getting off the phone with Dave, I was headed in his direction. I was due at the police station at 7am and I needed to get some rest, although I doubt I would be able to sleep if I tried. I pulled into his gravel driveway, and saw his front light turn on and his front door opening, as if he had been anxiously waiting for me to arrive. He stepped out onto the porch and I could immediately tell something was wrong. He was shaking, and quickly glancing around as if he was expecting something else to be out there with us.
“What’s going on man, is everything alright?” I asked.
“I guess. I was just up swiping on tinder before you called about 15 minutes ago, and I got a really weird message. Some chick told me she wanted to cut my skin off bro.” Dave explained.
It felt like my heart skipped a beat. The only thing I could think was this can’t be real. My knees felt weak, and my face was getting hot. I began up the steps towards him, fumbling for my keys with my right hand and reaching for him with my left hand.
“I will explain on the way, but we gotta get the fuck out of here dude. Let’s go.” I tried to say with authority.
Dave didn’t think twice. He ran with me to my truck, and climbed in the passenger seat, forcing Freya to scooch over into the middle of us. As we spun tires out of his driveway, I gave him the gist of my story. After he processed for a moment he pulled out his phone and started dialing 911 and I turned in the direction of the main highway that led to the police station. My phone would not stop buzzing in my pocket. I normally don’t use any devices while driving, but I was hoping it was one of the officers I spoke with earlier. When my bright display lit up I saw 6 notifications.
You’ve got a new match!
We arrived at the police station and greeted the officers that were at my house earlier in the night. We explained what we both experienced and were told to take a seat in a back office for awhile while they tried to get ahold of the on-call detective. I’m typing this up now to hopefully help me rationalize this. I deleted tinder off my phone right away and Dave is going to do the same as soon as he gets his phone back from the officers. Freya is getting anxious in the police station, and I don’t want to go home until I know it’s safe. If anyone made it to the end of my rambling story, what should I do?