“We need to talk, Ella.”

That was the last thing Alex ever said to me.

Five years ago, via text, before he cut me out of his life.

Now he wasn't answering his fucking phone.

“Hey, you've reached Alex!”

I met Alex Locke in the fifth grade.

I suffered from chronic headaches as a kid, and Alex lost time a lot, sometimes blanking out whole days. According to Alex, it was like being switched off.

Due to his condition, the boy fell asleep a lot, sometimes tumbling down the stairs during his episodes, which meant he was always in the nurse’s office with a head injury, or curled into a ball snoozing. I wasn't as sick as Alex, but I liked to sleep off my headaches in the nurse’s office and would wake to Alex playing Pokémon on the bed next to mine.

Other times, he would be sitting on the observation bed with his knees drawn to his chest. Alex wasn't a fan of shots.

I discovered that when I was torn from a headache induced sleep to his blood curdling wails.

I thought for sure he was dying, until I glimpsed the shot in Nurse Golding’s hand. Initially, I wasn't surprised the kid was screaming, she was trying to stab the thing into the back of his head.

Though, after reassuring me it was part of Alex’s treatment, she calmly told me to distract the boy while she administered his daily shot.

I panicked and attempted a puppet show with my hands. Alex was so confused by whatever I was trying to do, he stopped screaming, frowning at me like I had grown a second limb.

It worked! Kind of. Nurse Golding was ruffling his hair and calling him brave, when Alex’s eyes widened, his hand going to the back of his head. He started wailing again, but this time I was pretty sure it was for attention.

Alex definitely had his eyes on the tub of candy the nurse kept on her top shelf.

Alex made me feel better about my headaches. I found his company comforting, and we became sick-buddies. Sometimes, his other friends would slip into the nurse’s office to prod him and tease him, and I felt a little left out. The two of them paid no attention to me, focusing on annoying Alex.

Growing up, we both got progressively better. Alex’s episodes decreased to one a month, and my headaches were easier to tolerate. The two of us still ended up in the nurse’s office, but for different reasons. I accidentally shoved a needle through my finger during arts and crafts, and was too shocked to cry.

Alex had fallen over during gym, and had the tiniest scratch on his leg, which set off the waterworks.

When Nurse Golding was trying to rip the needle out of my finger with tweezers, Alex was demanding she replaced his bandaid.

Starting middle school, the two of us came face to face with Nurse Jane.

She was terrifying, as well as completely incompetent. There was no candy in her office, and her solution to a girl in my class breaking her arm, was “Put a wet piece of tissue paper on it”

Alex tried the, I'm sooo sick! thing, and Nurse Jane spent half an hour lecturing him about healthy food.

He returned to class miraculously cured, looking paler than he did before visiting her.

Neither of us dared enter Nurse Jane’s office, unless we were really sick.

We were ten when Alex threw a ball of paper at me, hitting me in the face.

I was about to throw it back, when the boy twisted around in his seat and motioned for me to unravel the paper.

He had scribbled a funny picture of Nurse Jane being blown up into a balloon.

Underneath, written in bright red crayon:

DO YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH US?

YES [ ]

NO [ ]

At first, I was hesitant.

I told him I'd think about it, so he came straight to my house himself.

I didn't even know he knew my address.

“Why don't you want to play?” Alex asked through a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies. Mom had given him a plate to take up to my room.

Hiding behind him were his two friends, Lucy Conrad, a curly haired brunette with ribbons in her pigtails, and Ki Jacobs, the foreign exchange kid from Australia. The three of them already seemed like a tight knit group in class, sending each other notes and giggling.

I wasn't sure I wanted to be the odd one out in their little gang.

Still though, Alex was insistent that I join them.

So, I did. The three invited me to the town’s summer festival, and I had so much fun I forgot why I was scared of ruining their friendship. Ki choked on his Coke float, which shouldn't have been funny, but it was his over-reaction that sold me. The rest was history.

Initially, I was kind of hesitant, only hanging out with them on select days, making sure not to be too invasive.

Mom warned me that joining an already established friendship group was dangerous, on account of me potentially being left out. She had horror stories from her own teenagehood, where she was the fourth member in a group of girls, who turned on her for their own entertainment, inviting her to slumber parties for the sole purpose of bullying her.

But that wasn't what we were. Mom’s warning scared me and I waited for Alex to start teasing me about my big nose, or my overly large front tooth.

He didn't even notice my tooth until I told him, so he opened his mouth and prodded at his own molars, teasingly calling them horse teeth. Alex said he didn't care what I looked like.

Eventually, the barriers I had built began to crumble, and I started to see these kids as real, proper friends.

I was invited to play every day, the four of us venturing across town to swim in the lake or hunt for buried treasure with a map Ki definitely didn't print off of Google. Mom was wrong.

I was never left out. If I didn't turn up to our secret spot in the forest, the three of them would walk straight through my front door— and when I was a little older, Alex grew brave, climbing through my bedroom window, dragging me out of bed himself. When I was sick with the flu, the three insisted on sitting with me (keeping a safe distance) and watching Disney movies with me all day.

They all got sick too, so eventually, the three crawled into bed with me.

With my Mom’s words still haunting the back of my mind, part of me expected them to blow me off one day.

In the summer before seventh grade, Ki invited me, along with the others, to his parent’s house in Thailand.

I think that is when it started to hit me.

The four of us getting stupidly drunk and lying on the beach, exchanging ghost stories that weren't remotely scary, sending us into fits of hysteria.

This wasn't whatever Mom talked about. I don't think Mom had friends.

This was best friends.

Entering teenagehood, we made that declaration, on my fifteenth birthday, drinking milkshakes at the diner and trying to hide our tipsy giggles from the booze Ki had taken from his father’s drinks cabinet. We went skinny dipping in the lake, and I had my first kiss.

I went to summer camp, returning to town three weeks later, not to my mother (who had forgotten I was coming home) but to my three idiot friends who made me promise I would never leave for camp ever again.

I wasn't planning on it. The other kids called me Wobbly Legs because I couldn't balance on the tree swing, and two campers were suspended for inappropriate behavior in the lake.

Mom and Dad treated the others like their own children, even giving them each a house key (so Alex didn't have to brave tumbling through my window).

He hit his head once, knocking the back of his skull on my new makeup table, and my Mother almost had a panic attack.

This didn't stop him, though.

I think my best friend had grown accustomed to slipping through my window at midnight, armed with a flashlight and my favorite candy bars.

I thought we were going to last forever, until we were old, reminiscing our childhoods under a late setting sun.

But that wasn't the real world.

Halfway through my senior year, I lost my parents to a seventeen year old drunk driver.

Jason Chatham, who already went to juvie for intentionally running over a cat, was the mayor’s son, so Jason got a reduced sentence and four weeks of community service. He gave me a bullshit ‘apology’ and was forced to beg for forgiveness, despite the fucker smirking through the whole court trial.

Jason was sent abroad to college, and my parents’ funeral wasn't even an open casket.

Apparently, there wasn't much left to bury. I couldn't even afford the fucking funeral, it was the town that paid.

I had no other relatives. There was just me, Mom, and Dad.

Alex, Lucy, and Ki stayed by my side the whole time, but I barely talked to them. I was numb, my body felt detached and wrong, like it didn't exist.

Time moved far too slowly. I was burying my parents, a shovel stuck in my clammy hands, and then it was pitch black, and I was sitting in a random alleyway, my head spinning, halfway through a bottle of whisky.

It tasted like poison, but it also stopped me thinking for a while.

Alex found me, still in his funeral attire. I wasn't sure why he had his tie wrapped around his head, though. He didn't hug me or tell me it was going to be okay.

Alex snatched the booze, took a long swig, and then threw it over his shoulder. I don't know why I found the sound of the bottle splintering on the ground so funny, but I burst into hysterical giggles that felt real and a relief. I didn't cry like I expected.

I stood up, throwing out my arms to keep my balance.

“You're a loser.” I told him, trying not to slur my words.

Alex nodded at my dress. Lit up in the glow of a nearby streetlight, I realized my best friend’s eyes were red from crying, his lip wobbling. The idiot was trying so fucking hard to pretend we were okay, and failing miserably.

His blondish brown curls were sticking up everywhere.

I could tell he had been running his hands through it.

Alex was far too empathetic, sucking up my emotions.

“And you're covered in barf.”

His voice was shaking, but Alex was still smiling.

He held his hand out for me to grab, and I hesitated, just like when I was a little kid. But I needed him. I knew that, even in my unstable mind full of black and white and a slowly spreading numbness threatening to swallow me whole. Mom and Dad were gone, and he was all I had.

The town would go back to their day-to-day lives, and I would break apart. I considered following them in a brief episode of psychosis. The only people who could pull my head from the fog were my friends. So, I grabbed Alex’s hand, clinging onto him for dear life like I was going to lose him too.

I expected the whole, I'm so sorry for your loss bullshit I had been suffocating in all day, but Alex talked about birds instead. I don't know why, and it's not like he was making any sense, trying to unsuccessfully name different kinds.

But it was enough.

Alex’s stupid rant about birds distracted me from drowning myself in poison.

He took me back to his place, ordered my favorite pizza, and pretended I didn't just lose my parents.

Ki and Lucy joined us, and at first it was awkward and I was still drunk, still demanding he give me back my whisky.

Then, though, the night devolved into our usual antics, and for the first time since my parent’s death, I was laughing.

That night ended however, and once the hysteria had died down and my hangover was gone, reality hit like a wave of ice water. The world bled into black and white, and not even pills could help, so shut myself away.

I finished my senior year with my diploma sitting in my mailbox with a letter from the school expressing how sorry they were for my loss. I tore it up, setting fire to the remnants. I was so fucking SICK of sorry. The word condolences didn't even sound real anymore.

Leaving town seemed like the best idea for a fresh start. The night before I left, I crept through Alex’s bedroom window.

I did tell him and the others I needed space, drunkenly shouting at them to leave me alone when they found me sleeping in our old childhood tree house. That night, I woke him up, wrapping my arms around him and thanking him for being my friend.

Alex was half asleep, mumbling at me to join him, and I did, keeping a tight hold of him all night.

It was supposed to be a goodbye. I wasn't planning on coming back to a town that had murdered my parents.

And protected their killer.

But it's hard to say a real goodbye.

When I left for college, Alex and the others promised they would text and call every day. Lucy expected daily updates, and Ki was obsessed with my roommate's secret hamster she was hiding under her bed.

We stayed in touch, initially.

I couldn't just let them go. I was planning on inviting them for drinks, and having one last memory.

I facetimed them during the campus tour, showing them my room and exploring the city.

I was waiting to declare some kind of friendship ending speech, but, I guess moving away was a natural killer.

I started ignoring calls, responding in one word answers to their texts.

Two months into college, I had new friends, new experiences, and I wasn't the girl who's parents died.

Alex proposed in a long paragraph text that they come visit and stay in my room, and I had to keep making excuses as to why it was a bad idea.

Listen, I was the bad friend.

I know that now. I don't blame them for being pissed, but ignoring me for five (5) years was taking it too far.

Presently, I had called Alex a grand total of 35 times.

He wasn't picking up the phone, and I was left to a robot voice telling me to leave a message, after Alex’s voice from five years ago called me a donut.

“Hey, you've reached Alex! Don't expect me to answer the phone. It's not 1993. Just text me!”

Which was ironic considering my texts weren't being delivered.

I had zero choice but to go down the boomer route.

Initially, I knew what I was going to say and how I was going to say it, but by the fifth attempt, my voice was shaking.

“Hey, me again.” I said through gritted teeth, kicking through leaves. “You probably didn't get my last, uh, thirty four calls, because you're busy, or…whatever…”

I trailed off, clenching my phone tighter.

“Anyway! How have you been? Uh, we’re both adults now, but I figured we should maybe, uhhh, talk… maybe?”

Alex was surely ignoring me.

Again, I didn't blame him. We were adults with our own lives. The problem was, I had zero idea what Alex had been doing the last five years because he was MIA. Alex’s social media hadn't been updated in years, and I was pretty sure he'd just made new ones.

The same went for Ki and Lucy.

His last text, (We need to talk) didn't even make sense without a follow up, and now I was back home in a town I didn't want to be in, stuck in a dead end job I hated, trying to pick up the splintered pieces.

I was aware of my colleague yelling my name, dropping my cigarette and stomping on the cinders. “I really need to talk to you,” I didn't realize I was crying until I was swiping at my eyes.

Sometimes, life doesn't always work out the way you planned it.

“I know it's been a while since you uh, stopped texting me or whatever…” I let out a choked cough. “Which is my fault, by the way,” my chest was aching,

“But I've actually come home!” I tried to laugh, but it was more of a sob. “Yeah, it turns out NY wasn't really my scene.”

That was a lie, though Alex was probably used to me lying.

Sometimes, life doesn't work out.

After graduating college, I was offered a job in New York, only for it all to fall through when depression hit. The world turned black and white, and I rotted in bed all day. I quit my part time job, packed up my stuff, and came home.

I had been staying in the motel on the edge of town for a while, planning to move back into my parents house.

But knowing my friends were still in town, and intentionally ignoring me, I was taking my time.

I wanted to hear his voice.

Five years was a long time.

“I'm staying at my parents' old house, so maybe come see me sometime?” I blurted out, studying the sky above me.

Cotton candy clouds we used to pretend to eat.

“You've still got the key my Mom gave you, right?”

It was unusually cold for April. I had to keep pulling my jacket around me.

“Alex, I really fucking miss you.” I whispered. I wanted to tell him that I needed him, just like when I was seventeen. That he was the only thing keeping me afloat. “I miss you, Ki, and Lucy, so call me, okay?” I paused. “I know you're mad, but we can talk it out, all right? Just text me, and I'll be there.”

“Eleanor.” My colleague was grumbling behind me, “Your break is over.”

I tapped my screen impatiently. “I’m coming,” I said, “Alex, I've got to go, all right? Call me when you get this.”

When the line went dead, I shoved my phone in my pocket and resumed selling coffee to dead eyed customers.

I recognised Mrs Morris, the lady who lived opposite Mom and Dad. She offered me a smile, but her eyes were so sad.

I could practically sense her knee-jerk reaction to say, I'm sorry for your loss.

I handed the woman her usual, a black coffee, trying to ignore the way she clasped her wrinkly hands around mine, squeezing for dear life.

Maybe her husband died….

“Have you seen Alex anywhere?” I asked, wiping down the counter.

The woman's expression crumpled. “I'm sorry, who, dear?”

“Alex.” I said, “Alex Locke? You used to give us candy when we were kids.”

Mes Morris inclined her head. There was something odd about her expression. “Oh, the Locke’s moved away a long time ago,” she hummed, “I haven't seen them in years, tweety pie.”

The nickname brought back memories. Mrs Morris used to call me Tweety Pie.

I nodded, pouring her a refill. “Is Alex still in town, though?”

“Hm?”

“Alex.” I said, growing slightly impatient, “Their son, Alex Locke?”

Her eyes darkened, suddenly hollow, like I was talking to a memory. She was looking straight through me like we were back at my parent’s funeral. Mrs Morris wore a rose in my Mom’s honor.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said softly, “It was… so terrible what happened,” her expression seemed to twitch, and a shiver creeped down my spine. “God rest their beautiful souls.”

I had grown accustomed to tuning out condolences.

“Yes, I miss them,” I said dismissively, leaning over the counter. “But have you seen Alex? What about Ki and Lucy? I've been in town for a while, but I can't get in touch with them.”

Instead of answering, the corners of her mouth curved into a small smile. “You look so much like your mother, Eleanor.”

“Thanks.” I gave up, forcing a smile.

“Eleanor.” her face crumpled, “Such a bright young girl.”

My stomach knotted. “No, Mrs Morris, you mean my Mom.”

She blinked, sipping her coffee. “Hm? Oh, yes, yes! My condolences!”

I got the same response from patrons I used to know.

Townspeople blatantly ignoring my question, throwing me a fucking pity party for a loss I hadn't exactly gotten over, but over time, the pain was getting easier to deal with.

Grief never leaves you, but time can force you to move forwards instead of dwelling on the past.

Halfway through my shift, my colleague plonked a basket of flowers on the counter, where I was trying and failing to perfect a foam heart for a teenage girl who was definitely judging my ‘art’ skills.

The basket of flowers was full of roses, my mother’s favorite.

Alex planted them in her yard when we were thirteen, surprising her for her birthday. There was a little card attached to the flowers, and I ripped it off, my heart beating out of my chest.

To my dismay, though, it wasn't Alex’s handwriting.

Unless Alex had taken up calligraphy in his five year absence.

Eleanor,

I'm so happy to see you again in town! I hope you like the flowers. I know they were your sweet late mother’s favorite. I have left a surprise for you inside your parents house. It's not a lot, of course, but I want you to know you are never alone, sweetheart. I will always be here.

Enjoy your surprise. You will never be alone again.

With so much love, and much needed hugs.

A friend.

“Who sent this?” I asked, re-reading the note. To my confusion, there was a box of headache pills. I hadn't suffered from headaches since I was a kid, but it was when I was sliding my fingers over the box, a dull thrum pounded across the back of my skull. I trashed the pills, dumping the basket in my work locker.

My colleague shrugged. “I dunno. Someone left it on one of the tables.”

“So, it wasn't a guy?” I said, gingerly rubbing my forehead.

He shrugged. “I don't know what they looked like, I didn't even see someone coming in.”

That night, following the note’s instructions, I returned home to an empty house, letters for repossession piled on the floor.

I broke down somewhere between walking into the kitchen and seeing five year old milk sitting on the counter, and exploring my childhood room, the marks I scratched into the wall to track my height progress. It was so cold.

So empty.

Without Mom and Dad, there was no light.

The house was just one dark, empty memory of what had been. Switching on the lights, I tried to make it at least a little homely. I ordered pizza and ate it staring at my phone, waiting for a text from Alex. When my phone did vibrate, I almost jumped out of my skin.

Just the Uber Eats guy requesting a tip, which I'm pretty sure wasn't allowed.

I was unpacking in my room when a voice came from downstairs.

“Ella! Holy shit, you didn't tell us you were coming home!”

Alex.

The crumpled pair of pants I had been folding slipped out of my hands.

I felt like I couldn't breathe, stumbling downstairs.

His voice sent pinpricks through me.

“Alex?”

The hallway was empty, a chill grazing my cheeks.

“Ella! I'm so glad you're home! Don't ever go away again!”

I froze.

“Where are you?” I managed to get out.

“We’re down here!”

The voice was coming from the basement.

It was when I was slowly making my way down the stairs, my phone vibrated with a text. I was reaching for it, when it vibrated again, and again, and again, buzzing in my pocket.

Pulling it out, I found myself staring at a multitude of text messages.

05/07/2019: We need to talk, Ella. Did you get my last text?

05/07/2019: I've been feeling weird lately. Like I did as a kid. I keep switching off, Ella. There's something wrong. I don't know what it is, but we need you here.

05/07/2019: Ella, please. The cops are brushing us off, but there's something going on. We need you here. NOW.

05/13/2019: Can you call your local sheriff department? Anyone?! STOP IGNORING MY CALLS!

05/16/2019: Ella, you're fucking killing me. Do you not care? Are you really going to abandon us?

05/16/2019: Ella, are you there? I'm really cold.

05/16/2019: It's dark.

05/16/2019: It's so dark, I can't see I don't understand what's happening Please can you come and help me? I'm so cold and it's dark and I can't can't I need you to take me home Ella please

06/05/2020: I like that you're so close to me. It's not cold when you're here.

06/05/2020: Sshshhh! She's coming! Act natural Sit up straight No, not like that Like this!

06/05/2020: wait where did you go? Ella where did you go Ella where did you go Ella where did you go Ella

For a moment, I was hypnotised by the texts, my hands trembling.

Alex did send follow up messages.

But I never got them.

“Ella, we’re wait... ING. Come on, we’ve missed you so much!”

Alex’s voice should have made me happy.

But I recognised it, phantom bugs creeping down the exposed flesh of my arms and filling my mouth.

Prom night, junior year.

He was standing at the bottom of my stairs wearing a suit and tie. Ella, we’re waiting!” was from that night.

When my phone flashed again, I ignored it, forcing my legs to move down the stairs.

My basement was exactly how I left it, a mess of boxes and my old bike.

Except, sitting in the corner were three figures drowned in shadow. There was a light, something illuminating the dim.

But I was already stumbling over to my friends, who looked exactly the way I left them, frozen at eighteen years old.

Their skin was pale, papery thin and wrong.

“There… you… are!”

Alex lifted his head, half lidded eyes finding mine. “Aren't… you… happy to see… us?”

His lips were barely moving. I glimpsed the start of decomposition melting into his face, eating away at his flesh, tiny holes where maggots had burrowed inside him. His hair was matted with old blood, where someone had tried and failed, and then tried again to violently force a device inside his head, long orange wires sticking from his spine.

I could see where he'd struggled, rusted handcuffs still coiled around his wrists, an unnatural light illuminating his iris.

Something warm crept up my throat.

The glow illuminating the room was emanating from his eyes. I could see straight through him, his body more of a science experiment where his skull had been forced open, an electronic device woven inside the dead flesh of his brain.

Whoever did this to him saw Alex as nothing more than arts and crafts, flesh and bone to cruelly mould.

I was too numb to scream, my body stiff.

He lifted his head, blinking at me, like he was still alive.

“Fi…nally,” he choked through a mouthful of oozing black, “You're…home.”

I knew his voice that had been cruelly stitched and knitted together.

He greeted me when I came back from summer camp with the exact words.

“Finally!” Alex had cried, wrapping his arms around me. “You're hOme!”

I could hear where his words had been cut and sliced, glued to each other to sound like a coherent fucking sentence.

“I've… been… wAiting for… you.”

The boy’s lips stretched into a grin. “For… you… tO see yoUR… big… sur…prise!”

Every word had been handpicked directly from his memories.

I took slow steps back, tripping over something on the ground.

A Macbook.

There was a sticky note attached.

Here's another surprise! There's a USB wire on the floor somewhere, sweetie! I forgot to update them, so feel free! I hope you enjoy your surprise as much as I enjoyed making them!

Feeling sick to my stomach, I switched the laptop on.

The USB was across the room. I could see the end stained vivid scarlet.

There were three folders.

2019.

2020.

2021.

There was another separate folder.

2007.

I clicked into it, a list of names coming up.

I was loading into Alex’s name, when Lucy spoke.

“What… are… you… waiting… for?”

Her giggle was half human, and half not, a crackle of laughter and static.

I knew her voice, and it fucking hurt.

My 12th birthday, Lucy stood at the table in front of a giant chocolate cake. “What are you waiting for?” she teased. “Blow out your candles!”

When she did lift her head, my best friend’s face was bruised and battered.

Ki’s grinning lips were skeletal, his head split in two, held together with duct tape. The way he was slumped, swaying back and forth, his head of thick curls glued to his head, made me sick to my stomach.

“UPDATE…us.”

Ki’s words had been ripped straight from years ago, when he yelled at me for annoying him to play Minecraft.

My computer is UPDATING! Jeez, be patient!”

Whoever did this to them made my friends suffer.

I cupped Alex’s cheeks, and his skin was ice-cold.

“Who did this to you?”

He responded with a smile.

“Not…telling...y–”

”I'm not telling you!” I remembered his tone from back in school. I begged him for answers to the chemistry test.

It was like talking to not just a corpse, but the corpse of a memory too.

I pulled out my phone to call the cops, when my phone flashed again.

Unknown number

Update them! I can assure you, if you don't, I will happily add you to my collection, Eleanor. This time I won't let you go. Check the second folder.

They were watching me.

I glimpsed a single red light blinking on the ceiling.

Taking the laptop, I left my friends, and called the cops.

“No, that's not how this is going to go.”

The voice was sugary sweet through my phone, intercepting the call.

I recognised her.

Nurse Golding, from Kindergarten.

“Update your friends,” she told me in a shrill laugh, “I made them very specially for you, Eleanor. I worked tirelessly, every day and night to make sure you came back to your friends.”

She paused.

“You're not lonely anymore, are you? Of course, if you don't want to be grateful, I can always revert you back–”

I ended the call, throwing up everywhere.

Somehow, I found myself back in the basement, my breaths heavy.

I planned to destroy the laptop, and set fire to the house, when something caught my eye.

I didn't notice until I was fully looking at my friends.

There were three of them, and four chairs against the wall.

Four rusted handcuffs.

I think I've been here before, but how? When?

How can I not remember it?

I keep thinking back to my childhood. Alex was losing time.

Is that what happened to me?

Edit: since writing the above, six townspeople have told me to update my friends. All of them are the older residents in the diner. I keep coming down here, but I can't fucking do it.

I can't do this.

The USB goes directly inside their heads. How does this thing even work?!

Please help me. Can this be reversed? What did Alex’s texts mean?

I don't know what to do!

I am a stubborn person, often to a fault. I hate giving up, even if it might be a lost cause. My stubbornness is a problem, I know that. It leads me into situations where I know I should change course, but comfort and a sense of determination keep me from acting. I try to be rational and in cases where I am expected to believe the unbelievable, I have a hard time. Now I find myself in an impossible situation where I don't have a choice, I must acknowledge I am seeing what I am seeing, and I wish I wasn't, because I don't know what to do now.

Sorry, I keep getting distracted I hear the crashing and banging in the basement again, Lania must be at it again. She is always like that. I know I should say something but what choice do I have? I can't rock the boat. I need this house and her money so I will do what I always do and ignore those sounds coming from the basement, and the implications.

Maybe I will talk to her tomorrow, I think I have to because the muffled sounds sound a little too human to ignore. But let me tell you how I got to this point, and you can decide for yourself what you might do in this sort of circumstance.

It was about a year ago and I found myself in a position I had been working towards for a while. I was finally confident that I would be able to buy a home. The market is rough now and I have a good job. With the crazy prices though, I thought it was unattainable. Yet I had started looking all the same. I had contacted a real estate agent and had toured a few places. After a couple of months of no-good options, I started to lose hope but then I received a listing for the perfect house. My eyes lit up when I looked at the features and I was over the moon. The price seemed reasonable if a little high, but I was worried since I did not have much to put down and my credit was not the best. I was assured it was ok and after getting qualified for the first mortgage I applied for I finally signed on the dotted line and got the keys. I had done it and finally bought this place, my first home. I was so happy with the house, I loved it.

Yet even then I found myself asking could I really stay here? I wanted it to be my forever home, it is truly perfect. Yet I am terrified of the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, the creeping dread of pure evil. Yes, I was horrified......my interest rate was 9% on this house for a 30-year mortgage!

I know, right?

I was so obsessed with the idea of owning my own home that I did not realize how much my actual payments would be at that high an interest rate and I started to panic when I saw the huge cost. I figured I could maybe get a second job or try and get some overtime to compensate. I was just happy I had my house, that's all that mattered. The house was a gorgeous Victorian, over a century old but still in good shape. I was over the moon when I saw the place, it had everything I wanted, and I knew I would find a way to make the extreme cost work somehow.

I didn't have much to move in and knew I would have to buy furniture as I went, but that didn't bother me. Moving day was hard work as I moved what little I had all by myself. I took a break before the small U-Haul was fully unloaded to get a drink of water and tested the tap. I turned it on and was troubled after a long delay before anything came out, slowly a reddish liquid trickled and started to flow from the faucet, it had a thick viscosity and almost smelled like blood.

No, it couldn't be, must just be the pipes. I blinked and saw clear water flowing from the sink and brushed the crazy perception off. I returned back and forth several times as the afternoon drew on, carrying boxes and wishing I had called for some help moving after all. I paused admiring the floors and trying not to scrape them up too much with the boxes. The house had its original hardwood floor from the looks of it and I would be devastated if it was damaged. There was a sound of something crashing in the basement and I winced at the thought of whatever had been broken down there, a lot of old antique dishware was down there from the previous owners and though I was not likely to use it, I thought it might be valuable and I may even be able to sell it. Had I left something close to the shelves that fell and broke them? I went downstairs to check.

The basement door was hanging open, slowly swaying despite the fact I had been fairly sure I had closed it earlier. There was a foul smell emerging from the aperture as well and I was not sure what had happened down there. I went downstairs and saw It for the first time. I gasped aloud as I looked at what was down there. There was a puddle of dark liquid which might have been blood here as well, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw an emaciated and skeletal body on the ground in the basement. I turned my head and it was no longer there, if it ever had been. I got closer to see what had happened and saw broken glass and figured maybe it was some sort of jar of old preserves or something. I stepped back and screamed when I heard a hiss and saw the body of a snake slither into a nearby crevice. Oh God, there are snakes in the basement? I didn't think they could just get into houses.

I hurried back upstairs to get the broom to sweep up the mess and maybe look up snake deterrents. I saw a strange-looking woman staring at me through the kitchen window. I blinked and her face was gone, and I started to doubt my senses again. After the first day and the weirdness in the basement, the normal day-to-day was good. But the good times wouldn't last, the worst news I could receive was just about to happen. I received a call informing me I was being laid off from my job. I had to scramble to find work and I was barely able to pay my exceedingly high mortgage. I could barely afford food and if something went wrong or needed repair, I would never be able to afford the fix. I realized I would need a roommate or something to help split the costs and make it more affordable until I could get another decent-paying job. That was the first time I met Lania.

Before I could even write up a request to advertise, I got a knock at my door. It was a tall pale skinned young woman with black hair and very serious eyes. The pupils seemed very narrow, almost akin to a cat or snake. She gave an air of authority and threat but also allure. She stared at me for a moment, and I started to feel uneasy before she finally spoke.

“I am here for the room.” She said very bluntly, almost as if it was a demand rather than a request. I hadn't even advertised it yet how did this lady know I needed a roommate?

“Well yes but how did you know already?” I asked, completely dumbfounded. She looked at me and then behind me into the house and produced an envelope with three thousand dollars in it.

“Holy smokes lady, I was going to ask for references, but this will do. That's more than what I was going to charge for the rent.” A glimmer of a smile appeared on the woman's face, and she spoke.

“Think of it as a security deposit.” I hate to say it but at the time I was ignoring the many red flags and just focusing on how a good-looking albeit kind of intense girl wanted to pay so much upfront to live with me. This plus my savings meant I had enough to pay the mortgage and then some. I was so happy I failed to see a lot of things and ask a lot of questions that should have been asked.

Lania moved in shockingly fast and made herself at home. We didn't see too much of each other because she worked a graveyard shift as a nurse or something she had said. I figured it must have been since I saw her in the early morning in blood-covered scrubs and figured it might be from the ER or something. She was a model roommate though, with no issues, very tidy, and always paid her portion of the bills not only on time but normally early. Weirdly it was always in cash, never with a check or something digital. But maybe she had an old heart and preferred paper currency. The only thing I did notice was she always kept dishes and silverware in her room and sometimes it left very little in the kitchen when I needed some. When I reminded her, she would bring it back. One time when I was loading the dishwasher I saw a few plates covered in a reddish sticky color that almost looked like blood. She must like rare steaks I figured.

At this point, I had secured a part-time retail job which was enough to pay a quarter of the mortgage and hardly any food. Surprisingly Lania was happy to pay for the rest and the utilities to boot. I didn't know how or why she was willing to help so much but I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. One night I arrived home and found the door unlocked and it seemed like Lania was home, at least her car was there. I walked inside and heard something that sounded like muffled crying and then a shrill scream.

I raced to her room and barged in. I was not prepared for what I saw. I found her splayed out on her bed. She was naked and her face was covered with red paint or maybe blood? She was entwined with what looked like a large type of snake or python and it was writhing across her body. I was stunned by the sight I didn't even realize how my intrusion might be perceived until she screamed again and then turned to me as I entered, and she fixed her gaze on me, and I realized I made a mistake. I didn't know what was going on, but I took a step back and looked away as I retreated, realizing my eyes had been lingering on her bare chest. My cheeks reddened and I quickly blurted out an apologetic.

“Oh God I am sorry Lania; I didn't know what was going on and I thought you were in trouble.” Out of the corner of my eyes, I thought I saw her teeth take on an oddly pointed quality and her pupils shifted like they had the day I met her. Her initial surprise and anger calmed somewhat and despite the embarrassing situation I walked into she made no effort to cover herself and simply said.

“Please leave, now.” I didn't need to be told twice.

When I left, I realized I needed to grab the groceries I had bought and bring them inside. I went out to the garage again and near the laundry room, I saw what looked like an outfit for a delivery driver. It was torn up pretty badly. There was also a wallet near the washing machine that did not look like it belonged to Lania. I wondered if she had had someone over. I saw nearby a nametag that read “Ted” Maybe she was dating someone named Ted?

I didn't think much of it until the following week when I started to see missing person posters up around the neighborhood inquiring about any information regarding a "Theodore Wilkes" who had been declared missing. I thought of Lania and the weird behavior and the name tag, Ted short for Theodore? The implication was disturbing but there are a lot of Ted’s I figured. I also tried to put out of my mind the fact that he was a delivery driver.

One month later and still no luck with my job search, worse my hours were cut for my retail job. I was getting frustrated and feeling hopeless. I was only financially stable thanks to Lania, who continued, seemingly without objections, to pay almost all the bills. She was always nice to me when we did interact, besides the accidental walk in she never seemed hostile or dangerous. Yet so many other things concerned me, I didn't know if she was just eccentric or what. The snake thing was weird though, as well as finding that name tag, something was going on that she was not telling me.

I was up late into the night looking for job listening's when I heard Lania in the basement again. I did not know she was back yet, she said she normally worked nights, but it was only 10:30 pm. I figured she would be at work still. The sound was louder than normal, and I heard strange music being played at an incredibly loud volume. I wouldn't mind if it was earlier but I was about to try and get some sleep so I decided to check on her. Frustratingly she rarely kept a cell phone on hand otherwise I would just have texted her to respectfully keep it down. I realized with creeping dread I would have to go down there and ask her to quiet down.

I considered trying to ignore it but it got louder somehow and there was a sound of shrieking or moaning from what sounded like another woman. I didn't know what was going on but I hadn't wanted to get involved. I lay on my bed with my pillow over my head trying to ignore the sound until I heard an awful scream that sounded like someone was in trouble. I raced out of my room downstairs and to the basement door. I summoned my courage and knocked loudly on the door several times, shouting.

“Is everything okay in there?” There was a long pause with no sound other than the blaring music. I was about to knock again when the music was shut off and I heard shuffling and the loud crash of something heavy being dropped on the ground. The sound of the door unlocked was promptly followed by Lania stepping outside and fixing me with a placating smile and a sheepish, yet definitely feigned ignorant response.

“Yes, what’s up?” I was slightly annoyed by the gaslighting and tried my best not to be too combative in my response since I still felt like I couldn't endanger our dynamic in a way that might make her move out.

“Um Lania, with respect what was that sound just now? It sounded like someone was hurt, are you okay? And if everything is alright, could we please keep the music down at night? I know you are on a nocturnal schedule, but I am not.” I immediately looked at her reaction to see if I had overstepped but she just kept smiling and insisted.

“Everything is fine, I saw a huge spider and got startled. I am working on another art project in here and I get carried away. The music helps me channel my creativity, I will keep it to a dull roar for you in the future. I’m sorry.” She seemed to wink at the last statement and I was unsettled but didn't want to press the subject so I agreed and thanked her for understanding and went back to my room. It was an obvious lie but what was I going to do about it? I hoped I would find a better job soon and start being able to save enough to cover costs myself. Or maybe get a slightly less eccentric roommate who I could trust was not doing God knows what in the basement in the middle of the night.

The final and most recent event occurred two weeks ago. I had grown desensitized to most of the bizarre behavior of Lania as she continued to pay her bills on time and keep to her own affairs. But a simple household chore led me to see something that I can never unsee and added an entirely dangerous level of uncertainty about my roommate and her real nature.

I was going about my day-to-day business at home, another day off since my hours were terrible at the store I was barely working twenty hours a week. I had grown despondent at continuing to look for job options after so long searching with no results or positive encouragement. I decided I would busy myself with household chores. I was cleaning up a few things when I heard a loud beeping. I wondered what it could be and then realized it was the low battery signal for the carbon monoxide detector. It sounded like it was coming from the device in Lania's room. I changed the battery on mine a month earlier but realized I never changed hers and the battery was running low apparently.

It was midday and I thought she might be asleep I grabbed a couple of double A batteries and set them near her door so I wouldn't have to go in and change them. After almost an hour she did not emerge from the room and the beeping continued. It was a very loud chirp and regardless of replacing them or not I wanted to at least stop the thing from making that racket, so I made the mistake of going into Lania’s room for the first time since the incident I walked in on her. I knew it was a bad idea but I slowly approached the door and knocked several times. No response was forthcoming so I knocked again and nervously called out.

“Lania, are you here?” Still no response. I called out louder than before.

“Come on Lania, you don't hear that sound? That's the carbon monoxide detector, it will keep doing that unless we change the battery. I have them right here, please change them or I can if you will let me in real quick.” Once again, silence was all that responded. I tried the door and to my surprise, it was unlocked.

The room was very dark, the windows had been covered up with blackout curtains or something. I turned on my phone's flashlight and shinned it briefly on the bed to check. It was empty. I looked up and saw in the corner of the room the blinking detector and the target of my uninvited intrusion into her room. I stepped forward and promptly tripped on something. It was a large duffel bag that was partially open. I knew I shouldn't but I couldn't suppress the urge to investigate so I shinned my light on it and was confused when I saw a large assortment of nametags, wallets, engraved jewelry, and various charms or mementos all of which bore different names, none seemed to actually say Lania. I also saw that "Ted" nametag again in here with the assortment of other named items.

I was deeply disturbed by the implications of this grab bag of others' personal effects and did not like any of the scenarios it implied. I took a step back and almost jumped out of my skin when I heard a hiss and the striking of a glass wall and saw a row of terrariums that contained several large snakes. I knew she must have had one from before but I didn't know she had this many, they seemed oddly perturbed and upset by my presence and the one who made the sound had attacked the glass to try and reach me. I shuddered when I considered they might be venomous.

I tried to catch my breath when my blood froze as I stood there hearing with distinct certainty a moving sound coming from the attached bathroom. It sounded like an enormous slithering sound like that of a snake but far too large. I crept closer to the bathroom and heard a sickening crunching sound like bone being snapped in half. My heart was hammering in my chest and I couldn't move but I saw a large shadow looming near the other side of the bathroom door. I covered my mouth and tried to slowly back out of the room. Suddenly the door handle began to turn, and I fell back into the dark corner of the room.

The door didn't open just then for whatever reason the figure on the other side continued to slide around in the bathroom and another savage crunch was heard. I let out a controlled raspy gasp, to not make too much noise, and I pressed my hands against the wall to steady myself. As I touched the wall, I felt something gross and sticky. I managed to sit upright and slowly step away from the wall, trying to be as quiet as I could. I gently reached back into my pocket to get my phone and turned to face the corner of the wall I had just been pressed up against. Once the light shone on the scene, I felt like I was going to be sick. The corner held an array of large bundles of meat still slicked with gore and wrapped in a large bundle of butcher's twine. I did not like the shape of the thing at all. The proportions were very large, but not so large as to be bovine or deer, some seemed to be disturbingly suggestive in length and general outline to that of the human anatomy. I didn't know if the light was playing tricks on me but I could have sworn I saw the outline of an entire human-sized femur in a partially flensed chunk of meat.

I turned away in disgust at the smell and general horror of the scene and quickly crept towards the door. The handle once again jostled on the bathroom door and this time it did start to open. I flung myself forward onto the ground and crawled under the bed. I held my breath but almost let out a gasp as I saw what appeared to be a partially eaten human head under the bed near where I was hiding. I held both hands over my mouth and closed my eyes as I heard the terrible dragging sound of the titanic serpentine body slithering over the floor.

I almost screamed aloud when after a pause a scaled hand reached underneath the bed and groped for something near where I was. It reached for a moment and then grasped the half-eaten head and pulled it out. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe I simply waited in terrified suspense as I heard awful crunching and tearing sounds and the sucking guttural consumption of the morbid meal from a creature not fully used to chewing its food. I also saw under there when I opened my eyes again, the discarded dishes from my dining set, caked in what looked alarmingly like dried blood. I lost track of the exact time I spent in that nightmare room, listening to the thing finish its morbid meal. Then somehow the slithering about the room stopped and I heard the soft padding of human feet and a sudden pressure on the bed above me as of someone sitting down. Daring to set my eyes ahead and look out slightly I saw two normal-looking womans feet and I heard a soft sing-song humming of a song as a figure bent down and put shoes on and walked forward and from the sounds of the door had departed the room.

I let out a loud exhale of exhausted fear and I fought the dueling urges to either cower under here for a bit longer or rush out of this nightmare room in a blind frenzied panic, regardless of how close its horrifying occupant might still be. I tried to calm myself down and eventually after what may have been two or 3 minutes I pulled myself from under the bed and rushed out of the room. I whirled back to close the door to Lania’s room and as the door clicked and my hand was still on the door I heard a voice call out.

“Is there something you need in my room?” I froze in place, terrified of turning around for fear of what I might see. I managed to spin my petrified body around and I saw Lania, no monster just Lania she was fully dressed no blood was covering her body, and no snakes writhed about. I stood there staring dumbly before her, stammering for an answer. Her eyes narrowed at my reaction and I realized I needed to say something.

“I, um I” I looked at the batteries still sitting by her door.

“I needed to change the batteries on your carbon monoxide detector.” Almost on queue, the shrill beep was heard again to accentuate my point and give me what was at first a genuine answer to her question. She looked on incredulous but seemed to soften as she winced when she heard the shrill beep again, seemingly noticing now that I had pointed it out.

“Alright I can see how that might be annoying, I am sorry please allow me.” She brushed past me back into her room and after a minute the beeping was gone. She came back out and smiled at me.

“Oh, I almost forgot here.” She handed me an envelope. It contained an assortment of bills many of which were stained with a disturbing dark brown color. In total, it looked to be close to four thousand dollars.

“For rent and consider the rest extra for the batteries.” She winked at me and brushed past me and I stood there dumbfounded as I heard the front door open and close and a car leaving shortly thereafter.

I have no idea what just happened or if what I experienced was real or a nightmare. I know now what I fear is likely the truth, but what did I really see? Whatever Lania is doing or indeed whatever she might truly be I do not know. But I do know that besides the mess and the eccentricities she pays her bills on time.

The awful nightmare of a serpentine woman hybrid who preys on men is damnably suggestive of the story of the demonic Lamia. I considered her name too Lania? No, just a coincidence I’m sure like that Ted who went missing. Maybe I will ask her about it later, but for now, I think I should deposit this money into my account and start a savings account. Perhaps I can afford to ask her to leave a little bit later, yes I think that would be the safer option.

Demons can't be real right? But homelessness sure is and I mean I am just being paranoid right?