u/DullPhilosopher8491

I’ve been delivering packages for five years. It’s not the most exciting job out there but it pays the bills.
That all changed when I met her.
She was so ethereal, her beauty transcended every meaning of the word. I still remember our first encounter.

I thought it was just a normal day, the elevator was out on her building. I had to drag myself up four flights of stairs.
I looked at the package in my hands “Delilah Samson.” I chuckled to myself, her parents had a wicked sense of humour.
When I reached her floor, I remembered thinking maybe it’s about time I make use of my gym membership. I was so out of shape!

Maybe it was the pot of plants and flowers in front of her door, but even from the outside, something felt welcoming.
She opened the door before I knocked and I swear I had to jumpstart my heart with a balled fist.
“Hello,” she said smiling so beautifully I forgot how to speak.
She reached out for the package, her eyes not leaving mine.
“Uhm, sir?”
I realised I was still holding it.
“Oh sorry” I said letting go and fumbling for the iPad for her to sign.
She turned to place the package behind her and turned back to me, her smile not leaving her face.
I handed the iPad to her, our fingers brushed for a second but it felt like my whole body had been electrocuted.
She gave it back to me with a now pursed smile.
“Thank you” she said taking a step back and closing the door.
I stood there for a couple more seconds before remembering how to move my feet.
After that, the rest of my day was a blur. When I got home, even my shitty apartment felt brighter, cleaner even.
My cat even rubbed himself against me, it was a great day all around.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I didn’t know humans came in that shape and form.
Angelic.
My job got a little exciting, I would check every name on the packages hoping to find hers.
It was months before that happened.
She wasn’t even on my route, but on Tommy’s.
“Man, you’re about to see the most beautiful woman in your life. I mean I feel like I’m insulting her by calling her beautiful” I told him, giddy as a child getting his favourite candy.
“Who? Delilah? Oh I’ve seen her” he said nonchalantly stacking packages to carry to his truck.
“And??”
“Yeah she’s pretty”
“Pretty?”
He shrugged and walked out to his truck.
Pretty.
He called her pretty.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Pink roses are pretty.
Sports Illustrated models are pretty.
That woman is art, unfortunately not everyone appreciates art.
Pretty. Pfsh

I delivered my orders for the day, and the last one was at an apartment complex I’d never seen or heard before. The Lilium.
I checked the name and it just read “Lilith unit 366”
It was getting a bit cold and somehow the inside of this hallway felt even colder.
She opened the door as I was raising my hand to knock.
It was her.

“Hello” she said in that buttery voice of hers.
“Hi-llo” I stuttered, my voice and brain betraying me once again.
She chuckled.
I bent down to pick up the package and handed it to her.
Again, she turned and placed it behind her and then faced me.
She smiled, looking at me expectantly.
“Oh, sorry” I said handing her the iPad.
I realised the chilly air stopped biting, it got warm, hot actually.
“Thank you” she said handing it back to me. With a slight smile, she closed the door.

I walked back to my truck, dumbfounded.
“Does she live here now?” I asked myself trying to cool off for a minute.
“Maybe she was signing for a friend” I concluded trying not to complicate my life with questions I’d probably never have answers for.

Seeing her again felt like that first hit of a cigarette after a long day.
More deliveries like that started popping up. In unassuming places, different names, she’d be there. I saw her with her hair up once, signing for a package addressed to Mazi and it was the same every time.

She’d open the door before I knocked, greet me with the most perfect smile I’d ever laid my eyes on, sign, thank me, and that’d be it.
I’d think about her for the rest of the day or evening.

She was all I could think about and soon she was all I saw.
Until recently.
Back to where it all began.

“Delilah Samson”
I was ready to have my eyes and soul replenished yet again.
I stood there and waited for her to open the door. It took a couple of seconds but I realised maybe I was being silly. I held the package under my arm and I was about to knock when the door opened.
It was dark and cold inside. I looked around and realised the pot plants and flowers were dying outside her door.
I was about to call out but she peeked behind the door.
She looked frail, tired actually. Her eyes were sunken and her hands were shaking.
“Hello” I said trying to see if she was going to step out behind the door.
The corners of her mouth moved up in a very uncomfortable fashion.
I wanted to ask if she was okay but I couldn’t get the words out.
She reached for her package and dropped it on the floor.
I handed her the iPad to sign but she stretched her hand and signed while I was holding it.
My soul shattered.

I was about to turn and leave when she called out.
“Hey!” her voice still sounded like a soft melody.
“Yes?” I turned to look at her. Half her body was now visible behind the door, not just her head.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked, her eyes not quite meeting mine.
I shouldn’t.
“I shoul…”
“Please?” she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly.
She’s obviously not in a good place.
Maybe she needs a shoulder to cry on.
I try to convince myself, even though every cell in my body is telling me not to do this.
I reluctantly stepped in and she closed the door behind me.
Her apartment was enveloped by darkness. Then I heard her laugh.
.
.
.
I must’ve fallen asleep at the warehouse. Tommy nudges me awake.
“Wake up Buddy, your orders are ready”
I try to open my eyes, my head is killing me.
“Damn you look like shit.” He hits my shoulder and I wince in pain.
“Are you okay?” he asks looking very concerned.
“Yeah, I’ve just been working a lot, I guess” I say, trying to rotate my now painful shoulder.
“Dude, you were on leave for a week. You should’ve rested up”

“A week? I don’t…”

“You didn’t have to be a dick about it. You ignored my calls. We had plans, remember?” he looks at me as if I have any idea what he’s on about.
“Anyways, let’s get to work” he’s about to hit my shoulder again but stops himself and walks off, laughing to himself.

I put the packages in my truck and start driving. First delivery of the day
“Delilah Samson”
I chuckle to myself as I walk to the door.

The pot plants and flowers are green and vibrant as ever.

She opens the door before I knock.

“Hello” she says smiling, my heart flutters. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

I think I’ve seen her before. But let’s be honest, this isn’t a kind of face one would forget.

I kept staring at my phone.
Praying.
Hoping it rings.
Even if it was a telemarketer, anybody.

He must have noticed, he crouched down next to it.
“Waiting for a call, are we?” he says picking it up and putting it in his pocket.
“Nobody calls you after eight though, so we’re fine”
My stomach drops, how does he know that?
Has he been watching me?

He walks to the kitchen and grabs one of my apples from the fridge.
He looks around and takes a big bite of the apple.
“You always liked cold fruit. I never understood it.” He chucks it at the sink.

He grunts with every step he takes as my floorboards creak beneath him. He stops short of where I feed my cat, staring at the empty bowl and the one filled with water next to it. He casually picks it up, takes out the wet cat food from the cabinet next to the sink and puts the bowl back.

“Who are you?” I ask with a shaking voice, not entirely sure I want to know the answer.
“Well that’s just rude. You don’t recognise me?”
I can barely see his face with this lighting, it doesn’t help that he has a cap on.
I shake my head.

The way he chuckles brings shivers down my spine.
He forced his way into my apartment, tied me up and he’s convinced he knows me.

“Now tell me what I want to know” he says flashing an unusually large hunting knife with some writings along the blade.

“Someone is going to find me“ I say with my voice cracking.
“Of course they are” he hums. “When I’m done with you” he smiles.
He crouches to my eye level, fixing the ropes around me, tightening them. Admiring his work I guess. His eyes meet mine.

“Tell me the truth, and I won’t send you back to whatever pit of hell you spawned from”
He stands, towering over me. Puts the knife on the table beside me and drags a chair to sit in front of me.
In a calm, chilling voice, he asks “what did you do to my wife and daughter?” His eyes never leave mine. I can barely see them but I can feel his gaze piercing me.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t know. I don’t know you or what you’re talking about!” I say, clearly not getting through to him.
“You’ve got a wrong person” I add.

“Au contraire, I know all about you, Claire Everwood”
The hair on my neck stood up, I haven’t heard that name in years. Not since…
“Ahh, memories coming back to us now, huh?” He stands, turning his back on me.
I stare at the knife he placed between us, trying to focus.
“You’re not an easy person to find, I’ll give you that.” He turns and snatches it from the table.
He walks over to his bag on the kitchen counter.
I can feel it from here, it’s calling to me yet again. He casually places it on the counter, I never thought I’d see it again.
The man turns to me, pointing to it with a knife. “I’m sure you recognise this.”

Of course I do. I’ve been searching for it for years. My palms start tingling.

He takes his cap off, he didn’t have to. I already know who he is. Some old sap from the old country. How is he still alive?

“Now, what did you do to my wife and daughter?” he asks, this time with a little crack in his voice.
Poor guy.
He shouldn’t have brought it here.
“Listen dad…” he slaps me across my face before I can finish.

“DON’T YOU EVER CALL ME THAT!” he yells.
“You are no daughter of mine” he says, swallowing hard. “You are merely wearing her skin”
“Still got that temper I see”
He raises his hand and stops mid air.
“Don’t forget you’re the reason I’m here, Michael.” I smile, finally getting to him.
“You shut your filthy mouth.”
“But this is what you wanted, no? To tell you what I did to them?”
He hesitates.
I stare at the old book on the kitchen counter and back to him.
“The years have been kind to you. You’ve barely aged.”
“I…I had to,” he stutters. “I had to find you”
He puts his hand on it.
The Old Grimoire.
My Grimoire.
“And now…you are going to help me” he clears his throat.
Whatever confidence he had was starting to drain away. He turns his back on me once more, hangs his head. Clearly dejected. He wipes his face with his once white handkerchief.
“My wife,” He sniffles. “She...”
“Chose to spend eternity in the void than one more second with you” I say, my eyes fixed on my Grimoire. He brought it to me at last.
He starts crying.
“What do you want from me, Michael?”
He straightens up, walks behind me and starts untying me. I don’t move. He comes back into view, towering over me.
“I need to see them…please”

I stand, and he takes a step back. I walk towards the counter. I can feel its power the closer I get. My dear old friend, it’s been forty years too long.

“Claire please” he calls behind me.
“You said it yourself, I’m not your daughter” I prick my finger to open it, and it welcomes me.

I shouldn’t have left him alive back then. Funny enough, he brought himself and my Grimoire to me. Nothing charges up magic more than a whole bloodline.

I turn to him. He’s kneeling on the floor.
“Please” he begs.
I open to The Spell of the Damned.
And I turn to him.

“Okay, I’ll help you see them again”

I’ve been delivering packages for five years. It’s not the most exciting job out there but it pays the bills.
That all changed when I met her.
She was so ethereal, her beauty transcended every meaning of the word. I still remember our first encounter.
I thought it was just a normal day, the elevator was out on her building. I had to drag myself up four flights of stairs. I looked at the package in my hands “Delilah Samson” I chuckled to myself, her parents had a wicked sense of humour.
When I reached her floor, I remembered thinking maybe it’s about time I make use of my gym membership, so out of shape!
I think maybe it was the pot of plants and flowers in front of her door, but even from the outside, something felt welcoming.
She opened the door before I knocked and I swear I had to jumpstart my heart with a balled fist.
“Hello” she said smiling so beautifully I forgot how to speak.
She reached out for the package, her eyes not leaving mine.
“Uhm, sir?”
I realised I was still holding it.
“Oh sorry” I said letting go and fumbling for the iPad for her to sign.
She turned to place the package behind her and turned back to me, her smile not leaving her face.
I handed the iPad to her, our fingers brushed for a second but it felt like my whole body had been electrocuted.
She gave it back to me with a now pursed smile.
“Thank you” she said taking a step back and closing the door.
I stood there for a couple more seconds before remembering how to move my feet.
After that, the rest of my day was a blur. When I got home, even my shitty apartment felt brighter, cleaner even.
My cat even rubbed himself against me, it was a great day all around.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I didn’t know humans came in that shape and form.
Angelic.
My job got a little exciting, I would check every name on the packages hoping to find hers.
It was months before that happened. She wasn’t even on my route, but on Tommy’s.
“Man, you’re about to see the most beautiful woman in your life. I mean I feel like I’m insulting her by calling her beautiful” I told him, giddy as a child getting his favourite candy.
“Who? Delilah? Oh I’ve seen her” he said nonchalantly stacking packages to carry to his truck.
“And??”
“Yeah she’s pretty”
“Pretty?”
He shrugged and walked out to his truck.
Pretty.
He called her pretty.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Pink roses are pretty.
Sports Illustrated models are pretty.
That woman is art, unfortunately not everyone appreciates art.
Pretty. Pfsh
I delivered my orders for the day and the last one was at an apartment complex I’ve never seen or heard before. The Lilium.
I checked the name and it just read “Lilith unit 366”
It was getting a bit cold and somehow the inside of this hallway felt even colder.
She opened the door as I was raising my hand to knock.
It was her.
“Hello” she said in that buttery voice of hers.
“Hi-llo” I stuttered, my voice and brain betraying me once again.
She chuckled.
I bent down to pick up the package and handed it to her.
Again, she turned and placed it behind her and then faced me.
She smiled, looking at me expectantly.
“Oh, sorry” I said handing her the iPad.
I realised the chilly air stopped biting, it got warm, hot actually.
“Thank you” she said handing it back to me. With a slight smile, she closed the door.
I walked back to my truck, dumbfounded.
“Does she live here now?” I asked myself trying to cool off for a minute.
“Maybe she was signing for a friend” I concluded trying not to complicate my life with questions I’d probably never have answers for.
Seeing her again felt like that first hit of a cigarette after a long day.
More deliveries like that started popping up. In unassuming places, different names, she’d be there. I saw her with her hair up once, signing for a package addressed to Mazi and it was the same every time.
She’d open the door before I knocked, greet me with the most perfect smile I’d ever laid my eyes on, sign, thank me, and that’d be it. I’d think about her for the rest of the day or evening.
She was all I could think about and soon she was all I saw. Until recently.
Back to where it all began.
“Delilah Samson”
I was ready to have my eyes and soul replenished yet again.
I stood there and waited for her to open the door. It took a couple of seconds but I realised maybe I was being silly. I held the package under my arm and I was about to knock when the door opened.
It was dark and cold inside. I looked around and realised the pot plants and flowers were dying outside her door.
I was about to call out but she peeked behind the door.
She looked frail, tired actually. Her eyes were sunken and her hands were shaking.
“Hello” I said trying to see if she’s going to step out behind the door.
The corners of her mouth moved up in a very uncomfortable fashion.
I wanted to ask if she was okay but I couldn’t get the words out.
She reached for her package and dropped it on the floor.
I handed her the iPad to sign but she stretched her hand and signed it while I was holding it.
My soul shattered.
I was about to turn and leave when she called out.
“Hey!” her voice still sounded like a soft melody.
“Yes?” I turned to look at her. Half her body was now visible behind the door, not just her head.
“Would you like to come in?” She asked, her eyes not quite meeting mine.
I shouldn’t.
“I shoul…”
“Please?” she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly.
She’s obviously not in a good place. Maybe she needs a shoulder to cry on. I try to convince myself, even though every cell in my body is telling me not to do this. I reluctantly step in and she closed the door behind me.
Her apartment was enveloped by darkness. Then I heard her laugh.
.
.
.
I must’ve fallen asleep at the warehouse. Tommy nudges me awake.
“Wake up Buddy, your orders are ready”
I try to open my eyes, my head is killing me.
“Damn you look like shit” he hit my shoulder, I wince in pain.
“Are you okay?” he asks looking very concerned.
“Yeah, I’ve just been working a lot I guess” I say trying to rotate my now painful shoulder.
“Dude, you were on leave for a week, you should’ve rested up”

“A week? I don’t…”

“You didn’t have to be a dick about it. You ignored my calls. We had plans, remember?” he looks at me as if I have any idea what he’s on about.
“Anyways, let’s get to work” he’s about to hit my shoulder again but stops himself and walks off, laughing to himself.

I put the packages in my truck and started driving. First delivery of the day
“ Delilah Samson”
I chuckled to myself as I walk to the door.

The pot plants and flowers are green and vibrant as ever.

She opens the door before I knock.

“Hello” she says smiling, my heart flutters. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

I think I’ve seen her before. But let’s be honest, this isn’t a kind of face one would forget.

I’ve been delivering packages for five years. It’s not the most exciting job out there but it pays the bills.
That all changed when I met her.
She was so ethereal, her beauty transcended every meaning of the word. I still remember our first encounter.
I thought it was just a normal day, the elevator was out on her building. I had to drag myself up four flights of stairs. I looked at the package in my hands “Delilah Samson” I chuckled to myself, her parents had a wicked sense of humour.
When I reached her floor, I remembered thinking maybe it’s about time I make use of my gym membership, so out of shape!
I think maybe it was the pot of plants and flowers in front of her door, but even from the outside, something felt welcoming.
She opened the door before I knocked and I swear I had to jumpstart my heart with a balled fist.
“Hello” she said smiling so beautifully I forgot how to speak.
She reached out for the package, her eyes not leaving mine.
“Uhm, sir?”
I realised I was still holding it.
“Oh sorry” I said letting go and fumbling for the iPad for her to sign.
She turned to place the package behind her and turned back to me, her smile not leaving her face.
I handed the iPad to her, our fingers brushed for a second but it felt like my whole body had been electrocuted.
She gave it back to me with a now pursed smile.
“Thank you” she said taking a step back and closing the door.
I stood there for a couple more seconds before remembering how to move my feet.
After that, the rest of my day was a blur. When I got home, even my shitty apartment felt brighter, cleaner even.
My cat even rubbed himself against me, it was a great day all around.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I didn’t know humans came in that shape and form.
Angelic.
My job got a little exciting, I would check every name on the packages hoping to find hers.
It was months before that happened. She wasn’t even on my route, but on Tommy’s.
“Man, you’re about to see the most beautiful woman in your life. I mean I feel like I’m insulting her by calling her beautiful” I told him, giddy as a child getting his favourite candy.
“Who? Delilah? Oh I’ve seen her” he said nonchalantly stacking packages to carry to his truck.
“And??”
“Yeah she’s pretty”
“Pretty?”
He shrugged and walked out to his truck.
Pretty.
He called her pretty.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Pink roses are pretty.
Sports Illustrated models are pretty.
That woman is art, unfortunately not everyone appreciates art.
Pretty. Pfsh
I delivered my orders for the day and the last one was at an apartment complex I’ve never seen or heard before. The Lilium.
I checked the name and it just read “Lilith unit 366”
It was getting a bit cold and somehow the inside of this hallway felt even colder.
She opened the door as I was raising my hand to knock.
It was her.
“Hello” she said in that buttery voice of hers.
“Hi-llo” I stuttered, my voice and brain betraying me once again.
She chuckled.
I bent down to pick up the package and handed it to her.
Again, she turned and placed it behind her and then faced me.
She smiled, looking at me expectantly.
“Oh, sorry” I said handing her the iPad.
I realised the chilly air stopped biting, it got warm, hot actually.
“Thank you” she said handing it back to me. With a slight smile, she closed the door.
I walked back to my truck, dumbfounded.
“Does she live here now?” I asked myself trying to cool off for a minute.
“Maybe she was signing for a friend” I concluded trying not to complicate my life with questions I’d probably never have answers for.
Seeing her again felt like that first hit of a cigarette after a long day.
More deliveries like that started popping up. In unassuming places, different names, she’d be there. I saw her with her hair up once, signing for a package addressed to Mazi and it was the same every time.
She’d open the door before I knocked, greet me with the most perfect smile I’d ever laid my eyes on, sign, thank me, and that’d be it. I’d think about her for the rest of the day or evening.
She was all I could think about and soon she was all I saw. Until recently.
Back to where it all began.
“Delilah Samson”
I was ready to have my eyes and soul replenished yet again.
I stood there and waited for her to open the door. It took a couple of seconds but I realised maybe I was being silly. I held the package under my arm and I was about to knock when the door opened.
It was dark and cold inside. I looked around and realised the pot plants and flowers were dying outside her door.
I was about to call out but she peeked behind the door.
She looked frail, tired actually. Her eyes were sunken and her hands were shaking.
“Hello” I said trying to see if she’s going to step out behind the door.
The corners of her mouth moved up in a very uncomfortable fashion.
I wanted to ask if she was okay but I couldn’t get the words out.
She reached for her package and dropped it on the floor.
I handed her the iPad to sign but she stretched her hand and signed it while I was holding it.
My soul shattered.
I was about to turn and leave when she called out.
“Hey!” her voice still sounded like a soft melody.
“Yes?” I turned to look at her. Half her body was now visible behind the door, not just her head.
“Would you like to come in?” She asked, her eyes not quite meeting mine.
I shouldn’t.
“I shoul…”
“Please?” she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly.
She’s obviously not in a good place. Maybe she needs a shoulder to cry on. I try to convince myself, even though every cell in my body is telling me not to do this. I reluctantly step in and she closed the door behind me.
Her apartment was enveloped by darkness. Then I heard her laugh.
.
.
.
I must’ve fallen asleep at the warehouse. Tommy nudges me awake.
“Wake up Buddy, your orders are ready”
I try to open my eyes, my head is killing me.
“Damn you look like shit” he hit my shoulder, I wince in pain.

“Are you okay?” he asks looking very concerned.
“Yeah, I’ve just been working a lot I guess” I say trying to rotate my now painful shoulder.
“Dude, you were on leave for a week, you should’ve rested up”

“A week? I don’t…”

“You didn’t have to be a dick about it. You ignored my calls. We had plans, remember?” he looks at me as if I have any idea what he’s on about.

“Anyways, let’s get to work” he’s about to hit my shoulder again but stops himself and walks off, laughing to himself.

I put the packages in my truck and started driving. First delivery of the day
“ Delilah Samson”
I chuckled to myself as I walk to the door.

The pot plants and flowers are green and vibrant as ever.

She opens the door before I knock.

“Hello” she says smiling, my heart flutters. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

I think I’ve seen her before. But let’s be honest, this isn’t the kind of face one would forget.

Being a first year at college is like a humiliation ritual. Especially when you’re socially awkward and your only friend lives two states away. The campus is endless, but at least I’ve already done my own walk around. I don’t have to attend orientation with everyone else, looking awkward and out of place.

I pick up a piece of trash and put it in the trash can beside me. Then I walk back to my dorm. Careful not to step on any cracks. The night air is a bit chilly but refreshing.

“Yo where have you been? Your phone has been ringing like crazy, is that your girlfriend?” He laughs, clearly amused by himself.
“It’s my mother”
I pick it up and she’s hysterical.
“Oh my heavens are you okay? I’ve called you five times. Is everything okay? Are you settled in? You’ve got me so worried!”
“I’m fine mom, I just went out for a walk” I say knowing very well this phone call is far from over.
“Yeah…no I know…I’m sorry…mmh”
I finally hear my dad at the back telling her to stop bothering me.
“I’m no bother, I just worry, he’s out there by himself you know “ she says.
She talks for a little while and we say our goodbyes.

“Damn, you a momma’s boy huh?” says my roommate. Danny.
I don’t think him and I will get along.
“Jokes my man, jokes”
“You wanna go get some McD? I’m starving” he adds.
I haven’t eaten today so I agree. I take my backpack.
“What do you need a backpack for little man? It’s on me”
I say nothing.
“Alright”

We get to his car and the passenger seat is buried in takeout containers and the smell hits me before I get in.
“Your car is filthy” I blurted before I could stop myself.
My mother always told me to be polite and if I have nothing nice to say, keep my mouth shut.
“Come on, just push those to the floor and get in”he says very nonchalant.
I do as I’m told, even though my skin feels like it wants to run away from me.
“I’m sorry for saying your car is filthy” I say trying my best not to throw up. Though if I were to, this would be a great place to do it.
“Don’t sweat it MB” he said patting my chest.
“MB?”
“Yeah, momma’s boy” he laughs to himself and drives off.

He passes the McDonald’s and goes straight to the abandoned campus.
“You missed a turn”
“Don’t worry about it, just a little detour” he says swerving his almera like it’s a sports car. We come to an abrupt stop in front of an abandoned building.
He gets out and signals me to follow him. I really don’t want to but I also don’t want to stay in this car. I follow him in and there are two other guys in there.
“Yo guys this is my little guy MB” he pushes me to the centre. I’ve danced to this beat before.

“I think I’d like to go back to the dorm now” I say, using my stern voice.
“D you heard the man ‘he’d like to go back to the dorm’” one of the guys says walking towards me.
“Come on, we were just getting started” the other one joins.
They start pushing me around. Thank heavens I brought my backpack. I just hoped I wouldn’t need it again.

___
Two weeks later
__________

“Three college freshman boys have gone missing, we ask anyone with information of their whereabouts to please come forward “

“Mama said I must always be prepared”
I mumble to myself, adjust my backpack straps as I leave the assembly.

I never wanted kids, I know, weird way to start the story but just hear me out.

I lost my mother when I was very young. Everyone says it was postpartum depression. She had bipolar disorder, and staying on medication while pregnant left me a sickly child. She couldn’t cope and decided to take her life.

So when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder as a late teen, I vowed to never have kids. Having to know your mother through the memories of relatives is the worst and I’d never want to put my child through that. Laura, who was my mother’s best friend and kind of my second mother, never spoke one ill word about her. She always says I remind her of my mother, especially when I smile.

I had planned to get tubal ligation as soon as I saved up for the procedure but I had one drunken night and now here we are. To make matters worse, I didn’t even know his name. I just wanted to get the virginity stuff out of the way and I gave it up to a charming guy with the most beautiful head of hair I’d ever seen.
I had just started college, there was no way I could juggle that with the baby. So I decided to get an abortion. Imagine my surprise when my belly started growing and I was still pregnant. Laura scheduled a suction aspiration for me at the clinic. On the day of my appointment, I got in a car accident where I almost lost my leg. By the time I could limp back to the clinic, it was too late. I cried more about missing that appointment than I did when I almost lost a leg.
I mourned the life I could have had and tried to celebrate the one that was growing inside me.
Laura kept her promise of making sure that I wouldn’t be doing this alone. When I expressed my concerns about what happened to my mother she said “your mother wasn’t as sick as everyone thought ” I never understood that but I chalked it up to pregnancy brain. “you’ll understand that soon enough” I assumed she meant motherhood.

She was so excited when she found out I was having a girl. She was even there during labour.

When I gave birth, they spanked her a couple of times but she never cried, she coughed. They gave her to me, I waited for that warmth, for my heart to melt but I was met with cold, old eyes.
I asked the nurse if there’s something wrong with her and they said she’s fine, everything checked out.
She gripped my finger with a strength of a baby much older than 30 minutes.
She kept looking at me, unblinking.
When we got home, Laura helped us settle in, still not a squeak from my baby. I’ve decided to name her Lily, after my mother. It’s funny because she named me after her mother.

I had to play a guessing game whenever I fed or changed Lily because she never cries. The doctors insisted she was fine and newborns blink less than adults .
Laura insisted that’s how I was like at Lily’s age and it’s nothing to worry about.
She checked on us almost every day and offered a hand whenever I needed. It wasn’t that much as Lily is like a doll, never cries, no cooing and unblinking.
The most she does is follow me with her eyes.

Last night I felt a presence looming over me and when I woke up, the shadow like figure disappeared into the living room. I hurried out because that’s where her crib is. When I got there she was sitting perfectly upright in her crib, eyes fixed on the bedroom door.
Waiting.
As far as I know, babies don’t start sitting at least four months in. Despite my unease, I took her to the bedroom with me. I patted her on the back to put her back to sleep. She dozed off.
She looks so normal with her eyes closed.
I couldn’t sleep so I checked the monitor. Nothing was happening for a while but then there was static, there was a figure
towering over her. I recognised her immediately. It’s Laura. She never went anywhere without that cashmere scarf and that bag.
She left hours ago and she calls when she’s coming by so why was she here at this time. I was about to put the monitor down and call her when someone else joins her, I could recognise that hair in the darkest of rooms.
How is he here? And why is Laura… My thoughts are cut short when Lily sat up like she’d done it a thousand times.
He bends over and blows something black into her.
He then stares straight into the baby’s monitor. I yelped and dropped it.
I’m trying to find my phone under the pillow and I can feel it behind me.

I spent my whole life believing postpartum depression killed my mother, I wonder if it ever stood by her bed.
Because whatever followed us from Lily’s crib
…just exhaled against my neck.

I never wanted kids, I know, weird way to start the story but just hear me out.

I lost my mother when I was very young. Everyone says it was postpartum depression. She had bipolar disorder, and staying on medication while pregnant left me a sickly child. She couldn’t cope and decided to take her life.

So when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder as a late teen, I vowed to never have kids.
Having to know your mother through the memories of relatives is the worst and I’d never want to put my child through that.
Laura, who was my mother’s best friend and kind of my second mother, never spoke one ill word about her. She always says I remind her of my mother, especially when I smile.

I had planned to get tubal ligation as soon as I saved up for the procedure but I had one drunken night and now here we are. To make matters worse, I didn’t even know his name. I just wanted to get the virginity stuff out of the way and I gave it up to a charming guy with the most beautiful head of hair I’d ever seen.

I had just started college, there was no way I could juggle that with the baby. So I decided to get an abortion. Imagine my surprise when my belly started growing and I was still pregnant. Laura scheduled a suction aspiration for me at the clinic.
On the day of my appointment, I got in a car accident where I almost lost my leg. By the time I could limp back to the clinic, it was too late.
I cried more about missing that appointment than I did when I almost lost a leg.
I mourned the life I could have had and tried to celebrate the one that was growing inside me.

Laura kept her promise of making sure that I wouldn’t be doing this alone. When I expressed my concerns about what happened to my mother she said “your mother wasn’t as sick as everyone thought ” I never understood that but I chalked it up to pregnancy brain. “you’ll understand that soon enough” I assumed she meant motherhood.

She was so excited when she found out I was having a girl. She was even there during labour.

When I gave birth, they spanked her a couple of times but she never cried, she coughed. They gave her to me, I waited for that warmth, for my heart to melt but I was met with cold, old eyes.
I asked the nurse if there’s something wrong with her and they said she’s fine, everything checked out.
She gripped my finger with a strength of a baby much older than 30 minutes.
She kept looking at me, unblinking.
When we got home, Laura helped us settle in, still not a squeak from my baby. I’ve decided to name her Lily, after my mother. It’s funny because she named me after her mother.

I had to play a guessing game whenever I fed or changed Lily because she never cries. The doctors insisted she was fine and newborns blink less than adults .
Laura insisted that’s how I was like at Lily’s age and it’s nothing to worry about.
She checked on us almost every day and offered a hand whenever I needed. It wasn’t that much as Lily is like a doll, never cries, no cooing and unblinking.
The most she does is follow me with her eyes.

Last night I felt a presence looming over me and when I woke up, the shadow like figure disappeared into the living room.
I hurried out because that’s where her crib is. When I got there she was sitting perfectly upright in her crib, eyes fixed on the bedroom door.
Waiting.
As far as I know, babies don’t start sitting at least four months in.
Despite my unease, I took her to the bedroom with me. I patted her on the back to put her back to sleep. She dozed off.
She looks so normal with her eyes closed.
I couldn’t sleep so I checked the monitor. Nothing was happening for a while but then there was static, there was a figure
towering over her. I recognised her immediately. It’s Laura. She never went anywhere without that cashmere scarf and that bag.
She left hours ago and she calls when she’s coming by so why was she here at this time. I was about to put the monitor down and call her when someone else joins her, I could recognise that hair in the darkest of rooms.
How is he here? And why is Laura… My thoughts are cut short when Lily sat up like she’d done it a thousand times.
He bends over and blows something black into her.
He then stares straight into the baby’s monitor. I yelped and dropped it.
I’m trying to find my phone under the pillow and I can feel it behind me.

I spent my whole life believing postpartum depression killed my mother, I wonder if it ever stood by her bed.
Because whatever followed us from Lily’s crib
…just exhaled against my neck.

Dear Diary
03/01/2001

I met someone on the subway today. I had my drawing journal on my lap, trying to come up with something I can draw to pass the time, she came and sat on the seat in front of me. Perfect subject.
I know this is going to sound cheesy but I swear the world stopped for a second. I went deaf and my eyes focused only on her.
She gave me a slight smile before taking out a book to read. I wondered where she was coming or going at this hour. She kept fiddling a brown wristband with yellow writing on it. Her eyes, they had some familiarity behind them, I swear I’ve seen her before. Anyways, I’ll go to sleep while the memory of her is still fresh in my mind.

Dear Diary
17/01/2001
It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen her, I’ve decided to name her Lara, she looks like a Lara. I’ve been pouring my memory of her into my drawings but they are not quite right. Something is missing.
I decided to move to a canvas. Going bigger will make it easier to focus on the details.
I’m going back to the subway tomorrow around the same time I met her, I hope to see her again. Maybe only then will I see what my drawings are missing.

Dear Diary.
09/02/2001
It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen Lara. I’ve been spending a lot of my time on the subway waiting for my muse to make an appearance. My drawings of her are becoming a bit distorted. I’m losing her. Just when I thought all hope was lost. Sitting next to me, the wristband. It’s not her, but that’s the same one she had. I’m close enough to make out the writing. It’s a name of a bookstore. I looked it up and what do you know? I found their address. Looks like we’re going to the bookstore, I can’t wait to see her, in her natural habitat. Maybe only then will I be able to capture her essence.

Dear Diary
16/02/2001
I went to the bookstore, right by the door was a small basket filled with the brown wristband with yellow writing. Those colours shouldn’t go together, somehow they are making it work.
I waited.
Pad and pencil in hand, I waited.
Lo and behold, she finally came. I don’t know how but she looks even more ethereal than I remembered. Her eyes. Oh her eyes, I tried not to stare but I couldn’t help myself. I can’t seem to get that gleam on my page though.
She had a brief conversation with the bookseller. They knew each other.
I made my way to her, got close enough to know what she smells like.
Just like I imagined. Flowery.
I had to leave earlier than planned though. The bookseller kept looking at me.

Dear Diary
27/03/2001
My drawings are still not quite right. It doesn’t seem to matter the scale, paper or canvas, oil or graphite, even charcoal. I can’t seem to capture her, it’s the eyes. How do you even begin to paint an angel’s eyes.
I found the bookstore instagram’s page, I checked who had tagged them and guess who I found. Lara! Well her name is Bella. It’s a beautiful name but I think Lara suits her better, we’ll work on it. The word beautiful is an understatement when it comes to this woman. She barely shows her face though, her Instagram is full of books, coffee shops, hiking trails and not enough of her beautiful eyes. I’ll write again once I know more about her.

Dear Diary
19/05/2001
I feel so much closer to her. I know her favourite places, authors and even how she takes her coffee. Two sugars and a drop of milk, sometimes with the sprinkle of cinnamon if she’s feeling festive. All of this is pretty mundane stuff, I still can’t get those gleaming eyes on my painting.
I’ve captured her smile beautifully, I had to cover the space where her eyes are supposed to be, just so I can capture her beautiful face, her sharp but somehow soft features came easy to me, but her eyes!
It’s getting frustrating. I need to get closer. I need to stare into those almond, warm chestnut eyes.
Then and only then will my painting come to life.
She’s meeting with Emily for drinks at the pub tonight.

Dear Diary
20/05/2001
I don’t know how this happened. I just wanted to see her, get close. I was just waiting for her to make sure she got home safe. She was startled when she saw me. I offered to walk her home and she looked at me like I was crazy.
I’m not crazy.
She wanted to scream. I couldn’t let that happen. Her eyes, I never thought I’d see them this up close, at least not this soon.
Her beautiful, beautiful eyes were filled with tears and fear.
Why? I wasn’t going to hurt her. I just wanted to know her.
Stupid.
Moron.
She knew I was watching her, she kept posting, telling me where to find her. Why was she scared?
Her eyes. Her gleaming eyes will always be with me. I finally captured their essence.
They are very realistic.
Alive.
At last.
My painting is finished.
I guess it’s time for you to join the others.

_________

20/05/2001

“Police continue searching for the individual known as The Oculist after the discovery of a thirteenth victim.

Authorities confirmed both eyes had been surgically removed.

Investigators believe the murders span at least three years.

Anyone with information is urged to come forward”

I wish I knew what I did to deserve this silent treatment. My house is usually loud, full of laughter and people talking over each other.

Every dinner felt like a gathering but it was just a random Tuesday. I’m never one to raise my voice and trying to join in on the conversation is an extreme sport I gave up years ago.

I knew my place, quiet in the corner, not a peep unless spoken to. The problem is, when one of them is mad at you, the whole house joins in. I didn’t cross any lines or upset anyone, which adds to my confusion.

I came down for dinner two nights ago and it was dead silent. Some avoided my eyes and others just stared unblinking. I shifted uncomfortably, making my way to the end of the table by the corner where I usually sat.

On the table is the soup I made three nights ago. I guess they liked it.
I waited for the house to roar like it always did. Nothing.
In all honesty, I don’t mind the quiet. I can actually hear myself think. I didn’t know it’d be this loud.

As I’m about to say something, my uncle’s head slammed into the table spilling the soup in front of him.
“Rude”
I say as I help prop him up in his chair. I look at his bloodshot eyes, bulging from their sockets, jaw hanging open like he’s still gasping for air. He always was the loudest one. I pat him as I make my way back to my seat.

“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted.” I shoot a glance at my uncle.
“It’s been getting really stuffy lately and it’s nauseating. Cleaning this up is just… anyways I’m leaving.”

I look around the table and still, nothing. They heard me though. I got to finish a sentence without being spoken over. I’d take a deep breath but they are really getting pungent.

I wish I knew what I did to deserve this silent treatment. My house is usually loud, full of laughter and people talking over each other.

Every dinner felt like a gathering but it was just a random Tuesday. I’m never one to raise my voice and trying to join in on the conversation is an extreme sport I gave up years ago.

I knew my place, quiet in the corner, not a peep unless spoken to. The problem is, when one of them is mad at you, the whole house joins in. I didn’t cross any lines or upset anyone, which adds to my confusion.

I came down for dinner two nights ago and it was dead silent. Some avoided my eyes and others just stared unblinking. I shifted uncomfortably, making my way to the end of the table by the corner where I usually sat.

On the table is the soup I made three nights ago. I guess they liked it.
I waited for the house to roar like it always did. Nothing.
In all honesty, I don’t mind the quiet. I can actually hear myself think. I didn’t know it’d be this loud.

As I’m about to say something, my uncle’s head slammed into the table spilling the soup in front of him.
“Rude”
I say as I help prop him up in his chair. I look at his bloodshot eyes, bulging from their sockets, jaw hanging open like he’s still gasping for air. He always was the loudest one. I pat him as I make my way back to my seat.

“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted.” I shoot a glance at my uncle.
“It’s been getting really stuffy lately and it’s nauseating. Cleaning this up is just… anyways I’m leaving.”

I look around the table and still, nothing. They heard me though. I got to finish a sentence without being spoken over. I’d take a deep breath but they are really getting pungent.