My life was never this miserable. I was raised mainly by my mother. A strong woman,
able to handle everything and anything that was hurled her way. Whether I hurled it, or the world
wanted to see how resilient she really was. My dad left when I was 3. My mother never resented
him, especially when he came back when I was 14. He always wanted to make up for the lost
time.
We never knew why he left in the first place. It was just spontaneous, according to my
mother. He left again when I turned 26. My mother cried, holding me close as if I was also about
to go as well. We held a quiet funeral, just My mom, a couple of close friends and I. A couple of
years later, my mom left too. She was too heartbroken to keep going, I think.
I was in pain, so much that I might have considered moving away from the state, or
country. Just far away enough to forget it all. I stayed, thanks to a couple of friends and my
endless talks in the mirror, telling myself to keep going. It’s what my mother would have
wanted.
Between my dad leaving and the ceaseless grief, I didn’t have a horrible life. I was
always an average kid. I didn’t cause trouble in school either. I don’t think I have done
something terrible so far in my life so I can’t seem to understand why I am currently suffering?
It’s not grief anymore, it’s been more than a few years since I last felt something like
that, it’s something different now. This…is something more cruel. I can go around telling people
this, but I can’t! People will think I went crazy out of grief. But I can assure everyone that I’m
not, no way I would ever want to make this up like some sort of sick joke. I know what I go
through every single day, every hour, every second.
I fear this constantly because I don’t know when He will say anything.
It’s haunting me. That voice shaking within my head, a constant ringing in my ears worse
than wailing ghosts that linger at first light. Shrill laughter that plagues my existence, taunting
me and filling me with this…this feeling I just can’t explain!
This endless torment that I constantly expect but never fails to catch me off guard. And
I’m constantly dragging my hand over my face. Constantly repressing the urge to just tear
everything up or punch the table or wall.
There are days when it’s quiet. The walls of the house my dad left me are calm, almost as
if resting. It almost tricks me into thinking that the bad days are just nightmares, frequent
nightmares. But on the bad days, constant whispers and shrieks of laughter ring through the vents
and hallways of the house.
I tried everything to get Him out. I visited priests, asked them to rid the house of this
being. When I told them what was going on, even they thought I was joking. I didn’t know what
else to do, so I decided to look through the house for some sort of cursed object or something.
I didn’t find anything, except for a desk. But all that was inside was a book and my dad’s
old notebook. I threw those out just in case they did hold something ungodly.
And I regretted it.
Soon after, He started speaking more frequently. Everything started getting worse to the
point where I just couldn’t stay home for so long. I took more hours at work, took longer walks at
night.
Now, the days are getting colder and holidays are coming, I have no excuse to be away
from home. I can’t afford leaving, no doubt that He will follow me wherever anyways.
I walked down the hall that leads to my kitchen, maybe a glass of wine will help me
sleep. The walls are quiet, and I am hoping that it will stay that way.
But it doesn’t.
It started, a strangely familiar mumble and huffs that sound like choked laughter. I clench
the glass in my hand harder. The walls almost start shaking after I hear a wheezing echoing
through the hallway. I hold my hand over my mouth and close my eyes.
The house goes still.
And I hear the voice of my dad again.
What did the poor little grape do when it was stepped on?
I held my breath
It let out just a little wine.

The peppermint DILDO was spicy.

The clock seemed to be ticking slower then usual. I had started my shift at four and wasn’t out until eleven. I watched as the clock stroke ten forty five. Almost there. It was my best friends birthday and he was having a huge get together at his apartment then we’re all going to our favorite bar downtown, Sharky’s. If you were wondering, my name is Marvin and I’m twenty-five years old. Let’s just say it’s taking a bit longer to get my degree than I had thought, I’m a History major who hopes to teach one day but for now I am checking out food items and stocking shelves at Safeway. It has been a gloomy week here in Washington and today is no exception, I can hear the rain as it splats every five seconds outside on the pavement. Today was just like any other, the rush of people came in around five to stock up for the weekend but I’m assuming everyone now is already out at their party or event. Ten more minutes to go, all I can think about is that ice cold beer waiting for me at Connor’s place. Usually there is another guy that closes up with me but he had to leave at ten to catch a flight, so tonight it is just me, how exciting. I sit and refresh Instagram on my phone, scrolling to pass the time.

I hear the familiar jingle of the front door opening, I look up and see two men. They both look around forty or fifty years old, dressed in all black, their dark long hair soaking from the rain. A shiver ran down my spine, something about them seemed off. “Hi! Just so you know we close up at eleven.” They both look at each other then quietly grunt as they walk past my register. I watch as they walk to the end of the other side of the store, walking into Aisle 3, I guess they’re just looking for some late night cereal? There’s only a few minutes to closing now so I start to put my jacket on and pack up my bag, until I hear a faint gasp coming from aisle 3. I freeze as I listen closely, it sounds like a muffled scream but definitely not from one of the men, it sounded like a woman’s voice. I’m becoming anxious and confused, did a woman slip in without me seeing? Maybe she has been lurking around the store this whole time. I listen again as it sounds like she’s whimpering and crying, it is all distant though so I am hoping my ears are just playing tricks on me. I then hear the intimidating voices of the men, their words are muffled but I could make out “Owe us” and “Not our problem.” This must have been some drug trade gone wrong or maybe she is an escort? Prostitute? All that I know is that this woman is in danger. I knew it was a bad idea to insert myself into this potentially dangerous situation so I slowly slipped my phone out of my pocket, the only thing I can do is call the police. I’m about to unlock my phone when I hear a loud “pop!” I am frozen in fear. I creep around the corner to see the lifeless body of a young blonde woman. Blood is pouring out of her head and all over Aisle 3. This can’t be happening, I’m just a regular grocery store clerk, I am not apart of any of this. This just can’t be real. The men begin to shout at each other, “Nice job asshole, what do we do with the body!” the other screams back, “You didn’t have to shoot her yet.” “She was getting on my nerves.”

As I let the men argue and yell, I run to the back entrance, leaving my jacket, bag, everything behind, I just had to get out. I’m still clutching my phone, about to call 911 as soon as I leave the building. My heart is about to burst out of my chest, I can feel this morning’s breakfast creeping up my throat, I reach for the door handle to exit when I hear in the distance, “He went that way!” Shit. My adrenaline at an all time high, I push

myself out the door and run. Running into the night, no clue where I am going. There is a small forest behind the store, I find myself hunched over behind a tree, sitting in the mud, hiding from whoever may come. I don’t hear anything but the tapping of raindrops on my boots, so I finally pick up my phone and call the police. I explain everything and tell them that they need to come as soon as possible, the dispatcher says she is sending officers and an ambulance over. I sit, shivering in the mud and dirt when I hear the familiar sounds of police sirens in the distance.

I run back to the store to see a body bag being lifted into the ambulance, but no men in sight. The officers ask me, “So you say there were two men responsible for this?” I nod yes and give the most detailed description I can. “Well when we arrived the cash registers were all broken open and the woman was lying there right in the middle of the aisle, it was quite horrific.” I told the officers that we had security cameras and that they should take all of footage. The ambulance drives off and crime scene photos are taken, I go back to my register to grab my bag and jacket only to realize, they are both gone. My heart sinks as I know I left my wallet in that bag, the wallet with my drivers license, credit cards and cash. I instantly call my bank and ask them to cancel every single one of my cards immediately. I didn’t even care about the cards but my license has my home address, phone number and name. This is a nightmare. The officers give me a ride home and tell me they will be close by if I need anything but not too worry about it, these guys are probably trying to leave the country right now.

Weeks went by and I didn’t hear anything from the police, good or bad. I carried this ball of anxiety with me everywhere I went, I would only feel at peace once I know these guys are locked up far away. Three weeks past since the incident and I was starting to feel a bit better, I just came home from playing basketball with the guys when I noticed a letter sitting on my doormat. The letter just says “Marvin,” that’s kind of strange, who sends letters anymore? I rip the envelope open, my heart drops as my eyes read the paper. Written in dark red blood, it reads, “You’re Next.”