...(You look beautiful when you sleep..)...
I read the note again, over and over. I’m not crazy. The letter is real.
The harsh glow of moonlight only just makes the words more visible. I
have to hold the thick brown parchment with both hands to stop it from
curling back together. Each swirl of black ink is another coil that winds
tighter around my stomach. The letters taper at each end, as if it was written
with a fountain pen.
He was here again. He was watching me sleep.
I wrote the note in my sleep, I tell myself, just like Dr. Mallory told me to.
It doesn’t matter how many times I say it or scream it into my pillow or
write it down, I don’t believe my own words. The letters are real. I know
they are, even though no one else believes me.
I told Dr. Mallory about the man who visited me on the day of the accident,
face hidden under the shadows of his hood. Then the gifts started appearing.
Then the letters. Then came the symbols. All from him. The Faceless Man.
I tried showing Dr. Mallory that the letters are real, that I’m not
hallucinating like she claims. In fact, I tried to prove to everyone that
someone was watching me and leaving me letters. No one believed me—
they think it’s just the ramblings of a woman gone mad. I’d take pictures of
the letters, only for them to disappear from my phone. Every time I put the
letters in my bag, they become lost to the void, only to appear back in my
bedroom with a note that says:
...(It’s our little secret.)...
I’m not crazy. I’m not.
The gifts he leaves are real. So are the symbols he draws on my body. I
know they are.
“You bought yourself flowers, Lili, you just forgot about it,” Dr. Mallory
said, even though I’ve never been fond of flowers. When I told her about
the symbols, she explained, “You must have been sleepwalking and drew
them on yourself.”
I thought she was right, because the man never visited when I stayed with
Evan, either at his place or mine. I used to wake up in the morning or in the
dead of the night with Evan by my side, and my body would be free from
the marks the Faceless Man would leave. There would be no letters left on
my pillow or on my bedside table. No flower atop my chest or my dresser.
I’d be free from the nightmares of the Faceless Man, if only for a night.
Although, I’m not sure if he is a nightmare or the sweetest of dreams.
Evan was my shield against the Faceless Man.
Too be continued
In next chapter
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