The Cafe visitor

I wake up on my couch, the television stuck on “Are you still watching?” Rolling over, I glance at the coffee table.

“Where’s my phone?” I sit up, scouring back and forth, unable to find the device that keeps track of my life and keeps me on track in life. It would be really inconvenient if I left it in another room and didn’t hear the alarm. Reaching between the cushions I root around like a blind dog.

“There it is!” I yank out my phone and instantly check the time. An internal siren goes on high alert, and my nervous system jumps into action. I’m late. I sprint off the couch. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Running into the bathroom, I check my makeup to see if it’s still okay. It’s good enough. It’s not like I’m trying to find a suitor, and we never get many customers in the evening.

I grab my purse and root around in it as I slide into my shoes at the front door. My keys jingle as I pull out the lanyard. I get finally get out the front door and run to the fire exit. My heart feels like it’s going to explode as I race down the stairs. I’m definitely going to have to apply some deodorant when I get to the cafe. Pushing through the exit, I’m met with a downpour of rain. Forgetting my jacket, I lift my purse over my head as I splash through some puddles forming in the apartment parking lot. I use the fob to unlock my little red car and jump in.

“Jesus Christ.” Turning on the car, my eardrums erupt as the hard metal music takes over the sound waves. I grip the steering wheel like my hands are a vise grip. My nervous system is on edge enough as it is. I twist the volume knob straight to zero and take a deep breath. I put the pedal to the metal and get on the road.

***

I race into the cafe, paying literally no attention to anyone or thing. I beeline for the back and dump my purse into a locker. I shake my hands as I take a minute to decompress. Five things I can…

Boxes of cups and syrups, and other products stacked haphazardly against the wall, with little to no organization. So many boxes. So many.

The storage fridge.

The staff table I won’t get the luxury to use tonight. A little cactus is on it. I brought in to liven the place up. I’m pretty sure it hates it here. But there is a little flower blooming on its prickly little head. That’s nice.

The cleaning closet next to the staff lockers, which are covered in stickers.

And a white board with all of our new drinks. I’ve memorized one of them.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” The reverberation of my heartbeat slows. Four things to touch.

I poke the cactus, my finger recoiling at the touch. Run my finger along my black sweater, soft, but a bit damp. Place my hand on the storage fridge. Then run my hands through my hair, playing with it until I think it looks good. I don’t know though, I don’t have a mirror.

“It’s okay.” My shoulders lighten up. Three things I can hear.

The hiss of Jimbo making some steamed milk. A lovely, lovely sound, always makes me feel like I’m being productive.

The ticking clock, which kind of stresses me out again.

The sound of my intermittent breaths.

“Cool.” Two things to smell.

I take a big whiff, and all I take in is the smell of a cafe. Kind of stale, but there are some good hints in there, too. But, honestly, my sense of smell is garbage.

Lifting my arm, I smell under there. Not the worst, but still. I reach into my purse and yank out a deodorant and run it under my arms. I take another whiff. Better.

“Okay, okay.” I close my eyes and focus on my heartbeat. I can hardly tell it’s there. Good. I take another deep breath, then head out onto the floor.

“Sorry I’m late, Jimbo!” I flash him an apologetic smile.

“Everything okay?” Jimbo looks over while he wipes down the counter. He isn’t smiling, that’s not a good sign. He’s usually pretty relaxed, but he’s been a bit on edge recently.

I nod at him, telling him about how I fell asleep on the couch like a bozo, and forgot to set an alarm. I watch him as he wrings out the cloth, torquing it a bit more than he needs to.

“Good, I’m going to head out now… since I’m off.”

“Sorry!” Shoots out of my mouth. A habit. I’m always told apologizing once is enough, but I’ve never really listened to that.

Jimbo heads to the back without saying another word, and he’ll most likely leave out the back. Not too long ago, he used to stay after his shift and shoot the shit, and gossip, and just enjoy each other’s company. These last couple weeks, though? He can’t get out of here fast enough, like his favourite cereal is almost out of stock and he has to go buy a box before it sells out.

I shrug and look around the cafe. Jimbo’s kept it pretty clean. It’s relatively small, so it’s not the most demanding task. It only has eight black tables. About three have four matching chairs at them, while the rest are two seaters. With a single armchair in the corner, with a little glass sidetable. With a plastic fern next to it. A few other fake plants are dispersed in the cafe. They’re easier to maintain. We just have to dust them every night.

Going around the store, I check the stock levels of the various mugs we’re selling. Just like everything else, Jimbo has it covered. The closing shift is a nightmare, truly. I used to be able to read a book or work on some assignments. That was a dream. Five hours of seldom interrupted me time. The new manager had other plans, and now if anyone’s caught doing anything that isn’t directly related to maintaining the shine of ‘the best cafe in this part of town,’ you’ll get an earful. And if you get too many earfuls, they let you go. I throw my head back and shuffle behind the counter. Seriously, let me read.

I decide to make myself a latte. The hissing of the milk frother brings a smile to my face. I put it in a plain white mug and turn around, hoping to lean on the counter while I enjoy it. But, my hopes are dashed, and I’m a little surprised when I look at the man with a bowler hat. I didn’t hear the door open, I thought my hearing was pretty good, but maybe not.

“That wouldn’t happen to be a latte, would it? If so, that’s remarkably quick service.” He smiles at me. It’s actually quite charming. “I’m kidding. I’m more of a flat white man myself.”

I set my latte down and give him my best customer service smile. “I like your hat.” He tips it when I say the words. I start rambling. “I actually have a tattoo of a bowler hat. I’d show you, but it’d be a pain.”

There’s a glimmer in his green eyes when he replies with: “That’s quite okay, I believe you.”

“So! What can I get for you tonight?”

“I’d rather enjoy a flat white, for here.”

“Right, you kind of already said that.” My fingers tense. Pay attention, stupid. “Can I get your name?”

The man tilts his head, looks around the cafe, examining every empty table, then looks back to me.

“Right, I guess I probably don’t need to call out your name. Sorry, force of habit.”

He snickers. “My name is Billton.”

“No way!” I shake my head. “Halloween was last month, buddy!”

The smile on ‘Billton’s’ face grows. “That’s the first time I’ve had that reaction to my name. Do you need to see a piece of identification?”

Wait, is his name actually Billton? “Yes.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black leather wallet, slips out a piece of I.D. and gives it to me. “No way. Actually?” I take a double-take, or three, or four. Handing it back, I say. “There’s this website that talks about urban legends and myths, and all that jazz. You’re on the site, hat and all.”

“Ah, my reputation precedes me. Splendid.”

“Did you start the rumours? What’s your secret?” This guy is a legend, but then again, maybe it’s just a fake ID. There’s no way someone named him Billton. I take a better look at him. His suit looks expensive, and so does the hat.

“I rarely talk about myself, so that’s a negative to the rumour spreading. And as for my secret?” He lifts a single finger to his lip over top a mischievous smile.

I narrow my eyes on him. “Cash or card?”

“Card.”

I tap the screen and turn around and start working on Billton’s flat white. “It’s ready for you.”

It doesn’t take me long to finish it up. I bring it over to the counter and Billton sunk his hands into his pockets as he analyzes the cafe. “Is it always so peaceful in here?”

“Eternally.” I shrug. “At least during the closing shift.”

Billton smiles at me again and picks up his flat white. “It’s rather quaint, isn’t it?” He walks over to the armchair. “Enjoy your latte.” He takes a seat. Billton’s eyes close as he gingerly takes a sip. A smile of pure bliss spreads over his face as he does.

I grab the cloth and wipe down the counter before leaning over the counter and finally getting to my latte. I glance over to Billton, and he’s reading a… newspaper. He didn’t have one before, and there wasn’t one left in the cafe. Where was he hiding it?

The door swings open, and with it a cool breeze and the sound of the rain slapping the ground. Setting down my latte, a man walks up to the counter. He’s scratching at his neck, and not making eye contact, and his wavy hair is stuck to his face. His shirt is soaked. Why isn’t he wearing a jacket?

“Hi, what can I get for you?” I put on my smile.

His eyes peek out for just a moment before they skirt away. “J-just a coffee, please.” He continues to rub at his neck, the skin turning a light pink. “You wouldn’t happen to… uh, have a towel, would you?”

“Sure one coffee!” I frown at him. Not that he can see it. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any towels, but I can give you some paper towel to pat yourself down with if you’d like?” My eyes divert over to Billton. Who’s gone? He must be in the bathroom, but even the newspaper is gone.

“Sure… thank you.”

I snap my attention back to him, pour his coffee and set it down on the counter with a large paper towel roll. “It’s a little rough, but it’s all we got!”

He nods at me, briefly making eye contact before his gaze squirrels away. There’s something frantic in those eyes, and my shoulders are tensing up. The sound of ripping paper breaks the silence of the cafe, as he tears piece after piece off. He starts feverishly patting himself dry. When he’s done, he drops a ball of damp paper towel on the counter, grabs his coffee and leaves the store. What the fuck?

“Quite an interesting individual, wouldn’t you say?” Billton’s voice breaks my disassociative state. I snap my attention to his voice. He’s back in the chair, the newspaper on his lap as he takes another sip.

“Yeah…” I shake my head, looking at the ball of paper towel, a crude, damp mess. Water seeps onto the counter. “I can’t say that happens often. Or ever.” With tentative movements, I pick up the ball. A Shiver runs up my arm as my fingers, nearly gagging, as I make contact with the mess. I jolt over to the garbage can and dunk it in. Shaking my hands like that will dispel what I just touched.

“What’s your name?” Billton’s voice carries over, a gentle a sound. One that makes you curious.

“Sarah.” I say, running my hands under the sink. Watching soap foam over my hands as I scrub away.

“Well, Sarah, it was a pleasure. Perhaps we’ll meet again.” He hums to himself before adding, “Be safe.”

“Yeah, you too, Bill…ton” When I turn, he’s already gone. I lean over the counter, trying to get a glimpse of him in the parking lot, but no one’s there. What a fucking night.

***

The next day, I show up on time. I thought Jimbo would look pleased, but he just gives me a solemn nod, like yesterday didn’t happen.

“Hey so guess what?!” I’ve talked to him about Billton before. Jimbo is always into creepy shit like that.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry, as he turns away from me. “I gotta run.”

Again, rushing out. “It’s about Billton! Last night—” He doesn’t even give me a chance to finish, he just disappears into the back.

My chest tightens up, and I close my eyes. I snap them open and do the 5-4-3-2-1 here and now technique. My therapist was big on it, and I gotta say it’s helped me redirect my focus.

After I finish up with that, I see Jimbo’s car speed out of the parking lot. Maybe he did have to run. I check the stock and again, Jimbo has it covered. A few customers come in, but not many. I make their drinks and get their snacks with the same smile. That smile that kills you inside. Draining your energy every time you curve your lips. It’s not natural, or maybe it is. I don’t know.

I lean over the counter. Both hands encompassing my latte as I take a little sip. Like I’m a child who has to use both hands to stabilize the cup, else it spills. I look deep into the cup, the art no longer visible. I think of Jimbo’s art. He made an alien once. I smirk at that.

A soothing hum comes from the other side of the counter, and before I can look up, someone speaks. “Why hello, Sarah.” That same soothing cadence. So inviting, you should probably be scared, but you never are.

“Billton!” I straighten my posture immediately and flash a smile, a genuine one. “Here for a flat white?”

With his hands behind his back, he looks up at the menu above my head. The silence isn’t awkward like when other customers stand in front of you, unsure of what to buy. Like it’s their first time in a cafe and they have no idea what your drinks will be.

Finally smiling, Billton looks at me. “I’ll have a latte.”

“Ohhh, changing it up!” I tap the screen. “A little adventure is never so bad.”

Billton chuckles. “You’re quite right. In fact, could I possibly get it with raspberry?” He watches me closely as I prepare his drink.

I set his raspberry latte down in front of him. “There you are! I’ve never tried this before. Hope it’s good.”

“I’m certain it will be.” Picking it up, Billton walks towards the chair. His steps stop halfway there, and he turns. “Something’s bothering you tonight.”

I lift both hands. The certainty he said it with is unnerving. “No, I’m just in my head a little.”

“Isn’t the human mind just wonderful?” Billton gives me a gentle smile.

“Just the best.” I roll my eyes and grab my latte.

“Apologies.” Billton tips his hat. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s just my co-worker. He’s been acting weird.” Quickly taking a sip of my latte, I look straight down.

“Ah.” Billton continues to the chair in the corner. “Men can be incredibly frustrating, can’t they?” His voice carries over. As calm and clear as when he was close. Like the distance doesn’t matter.

“I think he’s avoiding me.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Stop. Talking.

“Pity. I couldn’t imagine why. You seem amicable enough.”

“That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever had.” I walk around the corner and towards him. “Who says amicable?”

Billton winks at, taking a sip of his latte.

“Do you know about the Billton frog painting?”

As if I invoked a pleasant memory, a joyous smile spreads across his face. “Know about it?” He sets his cup down. “I was there.”

“Wait, did you commission it? I thought you said you didn’t spread the rumours?” I tilt my head. My fingers tapping along my mug.

Laughing under his breath, he makes direct eye contact with me. “No, I did not commission it. I was merely there when it was painted.”

“Like you watched him paint the frog? Does that mean you know what happened to the painter?” A smile spreads across my face. My heart is dancing. It’s like I’m getting a private interview no one else has managed to get. If he is the real Billton, anyway.

A shiver runs down my spine as a sinister as a sinister grin flashes over his face for just a second. “I was the frog.” Leaning back, Billton adds. “And I know what happened to him.”

“What?”

Billton’s attention moves to the store entrance, picking up his latte as he does. “Seem you have another customer.”

“To be continued!” I rush over to the counter, as the same guy from last night came in. I look at Billton, who’s now engrossed in a newspaper. The same two people who I have never seen before last night. What are the odds?

The man scratches at his neck, his hair just as dishevelled as yesterday. It’s just not sticking to this forehead. In fact, he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday, too.

“Hi! How can I help you tonight?” I stand straight, stretching my spine to look as imposing as possible.

He sinks his hands into his pockets and sniffles before deciding to speak. “Just… a coffee. Please.”

“Sure!” He pays and I go about making his coffee, setting it down in front of him. I smile again. He grabs the cup, then he snaps his attention to me. He’s eyes wide, boring into me. My heart picks up, and I try to take slow breaths. There’s something unhinged about the way he’s looking at me. Something terrifying.

“You’re pretty.” He looks down, scratches at his neck and walks away.

I swallow and close my eyes. It’s okay. You’re good.

“Everything alright?” Billton’s voice snaps into my mind. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest. I stumble backwards, bracing myself against the counter. I nod.

“Yeah, peachy.” I look at Billton, who looks far more imposing than before. His gaze not at me. Following it, I see that man standing outside. He’s across the street already, but I can tell it’s him. He’s looking straight in here.

“Perhaps you should move off the closing shift,” Billton muses, setting an empty mug down in front of me.

I cross my arms, my body still escalated. I just want to get out of here. “I don’t think that’s possible.” No, I need the closing shift. I got morning classes.

“Pity, though. I suppose that means we’ll see each other again.” Billton tips his hat, that gentle smile peeking out. “Until then, stay safe.” With that, he walks out of the store, and I close half an hour early.

***

“You’re late.” Jimbo scowls at me when I walk in. He’s wiping down a table. “Come on, Sarah.”

“Sorry! I had to take the bus today.” I give him a sympathetic smile. The transit system has never been the most reliable, and that’s why I have a car… “It’s only 10 minutes. Not the end of the world, right?” There’s a jitter in my hands, so I hide them. Why is he so snappy?

“The boss is mad about yesterday.” Jimbo walks behind the counter and picks up a letter. “He wants me to give you this.”

“Oh, come on. There was a major creep outside the store, just staring at me. I wanted to give myself a chance to not die.”

Jimbo throws up his hands and looks away. “Hey, take that up with him. Not me. I’m outta here.”

“Wait!” I snap. I didn’t mean to. He gives me a surprised look, clearly taken aback. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You closed early.” Jimbo says it like it was obvious. Not realizing he missed the obvious.

“I mean between us.” I shutter an exhale as I look around the store. “You used to like chatting, and now… it’s like you don’t want to even see me?”

Looking at the ground, Jimbo sighs. He alternates crooked smiles, he’s thinking. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I have a girlfriend now.”

“So?” A smile forces its way onto my face, not a happy smile. More of a ‘really?’ smile. “It’s not like we were ever dating. We can be friends.”

“No, we can’t.” Hiding his hands in his pockets, Jimbo adds, “she’s the jealous type. I don’t want to deal with that.”

“That’s ridiculous. She doesn’t sound very secure.”

“Jesus. You can’t say shit like that.” He rolls his neck. “That’s exactly the kinda…” He waves his hand, then puts it up in a stop sign. “Look, Sarah, I can’t be your friend. Okay? There was a time when I was into you… But you clearly weren’t interested, or too preoccupied for anything, so I moved on. See you later.”

I stand there in complete silence as he walks into the back. It feels like my body’s in shock. My chest is tight and I don’t know what to say or do with this information he mic dropped on me. Was he really interested in me? I lean back onto the counter, my hands still causing tremors.

“Hey, can I get a coffee?”

A smile appears on my face as the customer shocks me back to reality. How long was I standing there for? “Of course! Sorry about that. What size would you like?”

I fulfil his order and get him on his way. I try to reacquaint my nervous system with peace. Finding those five things. Keep myself present and in the moment, not thinking about Jimbo, or the future, or the past. Just right now, stuck in this void of a cafe. Maybe Billton will come in again. That would be a welcome distraction.

Then I remember the letter. It’s sitting on the counter. Looking around to make sure no one’s in the store, I go ahead and open it. Clearly pissed that I closed the store without permission, or even asking first. A few words about me being late recently and culminating in a firm warning that if it happens again, there will be consequences. I let out an exasperated sigh, fold the letter up and put it back in its envelope.

“That letter doesn’t seem to have brought pleasant tidings.” Billton stands before me. How does he always sneak in like that?

I shake my head and explain the situation. Even the stuff Jimbo expounded on me earlier.

“What an unpleasant sequence of events.” His smile is warm and welcoming. At the same time, it’s melancholic and understanding. It’s everything you want a smile to be, and maybe everything you don’t want it to be. “Nothing a latte can’t fix?”

“With raspberry?” I smirk at him, grabbing a white mug.

“If that’s what you want in your latte. For myself, I’m actually going back to the classic flat white.”

“Right, you like keeping me on my toes.” I steam the milk, the hissing not providing me with the pleasure it usually does. Placing the drink in front of him, I give him a smile. “One flat white.”

“Thank you.” Billton lifts it up with such finesse the liquid doesn’t shift at all, not a chance of it spilling over. “Why don’t you make yourself a latte and keep me company? We can finish that riveting interview from yesterday.” He walks away without giving me a chance to respond.

I quickly give the store a once over, making sure everything is clean and stocked. Don’t want to give the boss any additional ammo on me. Like always, Jimbo has done an excellent job. I craft myself a latte and walk over to Billton. He gestures to a table and I decline, not wanting to be caught sitting down.

“I think you were about to divulge how you were a frog and what happened to James.” I take a sip of my latte, a playful smile quirking up on his face. “The obvious answer is you were in a frog costume, but was it really that simple?”

“Exquisite memory.” Billton leans back, crossing one leg over the other. He rests the cup on the palm of his hand. “I don’t recall offering either of those answers. I will, however, reward you with an iota of information. You are correct to assume it wasn’t that simple.”

Billton’s a tough cookie to crack. He doesn’t offer much new information, but always enough to keep you properly enticed. Like a tv series with amazing cliffhangers. I switch topics. “What about the mannequin girl? What can you tell me about that?”

A fond smile spreads over his face as he drinks his flat white. “That was entertaining to bear witness to. If someone has the desire to make that into a movie, I’m sure it would do well.”

I always thought that girl had a screw loose. But what if everything she said was true? “You put it together? You hosted this unbelievable event?”

Billton nods his head. His eyes not leaving mine.

“Why would you tell me that?”

“Who would believe you?” That sinister smile appears on his face. A shiver crawls up my spine. I take a step back. “They certainly didn’t believe her.”

I narrow my eyes, scanning, looking for body language that would represent some malicious intent. But he’s calm, sitting catatonically still. “Why would you do that?”

“I won’t harm you.” That gentle smile of his returns. “And the reasons I do things are quite complicated. To be fully honest, I don’t even understand my actions from time-to-time.” Billton’s mug clinks on the table as he sets it down. “Though, I assure you, there is always a reason.”

“That’s very cryptic.” I finish my latte, then focus on my breathing. I feel more anxious than I am, or believe I should be more anxious than I currently feel.

“Isn’t that the point of urban legends and myths?” He looks to the left, towards the front of the store. “You have a customer on the way.”

I divert my attention to where his gaze went. A guy is walking up the store, quite slowly. I close my eyes and exhale out of my nose. It’s the same creeper from the last two nights. I give Billton a quick nod, who reciprocates with a tip of the hat. Walking behind the counter, I mentally prepare for the upcoming encounter.

He trudges up to the counter. This time, he makes eye contact for a second. Those cold, frantic eyes scan me. Like they’re looking at something they want, as if I’m a part of the selection of the cafe’s wares. He drops his gaze and asks for a coffee. I provide the drink and leave it in front of him. Then make myself busy by making myself another latte. Who needs to sleep tonight? I figure it’s probably best to stay alert.

“Would you… Would you like to go out with me?”

His slow speech breaks my attention on mid latte art. “Sorry?” I look over my shoulder and give him that customer service smile.

“I was just… Just wondering. I-if you’d like to go out… with me?” His eyes meet mine again. I force the smile to stay, but my hands wrestle away from my control, so I don’t turn to face him.

“That’s very sweet. But, I don’t date customers. I’m sorry.”

His eyes quake, slivers of hurt and anger amplify his intense stare. He drops his head. Snatching his coffee off the counter, he walks out. A march, not a trudge like a before.

My hands hug my latte like it was a long last friend. I look over to Billton who’s gone, a newspaper sits on the table. He must be coming back. I walk over and look down at the paper. It’s not even from this state, it’s from a small city in Iowa.

“Tragic is it not?”

A jolt runs up me and I spin around, a splash of latte spilling onto my fingers. “I didn’t quite finish…” I set my cup down and Billton provides me a handkerchief.

“Apologies. It wasn’t my intention to startle you.”

I accept his token and wipe my hands clean. “What was it?” Gesturing to the article.

“Ah.” Billton sits down into the chair. “A young woman was lured out into the woods and murdered.”

“This isn’t some Ted Bundy scenario where you’re going to kill me, is it?” I offer him his handkerchief back, but he declines with a gentle shake of his head.

“I sure hope not.” Billton’s gaze goes out the store. Again, that guy is on the opposite side of the street drinking his coffee. “Due to a lack of evidence he was let go, after which,” his attention returns to me, his hands folded on his lap, “he left. A social outcast, he had to leave.”

“And where is he now?”

A smile spreads across Billton’s face. “Across the street.”

My entire body goes into lockdown. My stare is dead and unfocused, my heart is pounding and my hands could cause earthquakes. I squeeze them together. He can’t be telling the truth, can he? There’s no way he lured someone out into the woods. He has no charisma. No social tact. “Trying to scare me?”

Billton leans into his chair, giving me a quizzical look. “Why would I desire that?”

“So you can offer me protection from him, get me alone…”

Billton’s chuckle cuts me off. “And kill you? Oh, heavens no. I’m merely warning you, Sarah.”

I look out the window again. That guy, if he’s the killer, he seems more the school shooting, or killing an ex. But the man sitting in front of me… he’s the Ted Bundy type. The warm, smooth talking man who brings you into a lull… I step back as Billton stands up.

“It seems you’re quite on edge, on top of the already unpleasant day you’ve had.” Billton tips his hat. “Stay safe, Sarah.” He walks by me and out of the store.

I heave air in and close my eyes as I try to slow the rapid movements of my lungs. It’s okay… It’s okay… I’m okay. Attempting to take my mind off of everything, I clean the store early. I get a few customers here and there, but am left relatively unbothered. I rearrange the products on the shelves. Double and triple check all things are stocked to full capacity.

Eventually, the time comes to close the store. The creeper isn’t across the street anymore, thank God. I grab my stuff, put in my headphones, and walk out. Locking the door behind me, I head over to the bus stop. I’ve been controlling my breathing since I left the store. Slow breaths as a precaution to keep me sane, as I stand out in the dark, cold night alone at a bus stop. It’s only about five minutes before the bus comes this way. I scan my school card when I get on and find a seat. I let out a deep sigh of relief, then look around the bus.

No.

No.

No.

The creeper is at the back of the bus. I put my head down, fill my pockets with my hands, which are currently classified as an 8 on the Richter-scale.

I pray to every god I can think of that this man gets off the bus before I do, and what do I do if he doesn’t? I can run. Sure, my apartment is close enough to the bus stop that I can just get off and run, but then he’ll know where I live.

I’m taken aback when I look at the window across from me. Next to me in the reflection is Billton. But there wasn’t anyone sitting there when I sat down.

“Bill—” Turning my head, no one’s there. Just me and the creeper in the back. I keep my mind occupied as best I can. Very focused breaths, trying to combat my nervous system. I refuse to take the bus again, not alone anyway. Definitely not at night. The bus stops and lets a couple of people on. I peek towards the back and catch the eye of the one person I’d rather not. I skirt my attention away, pretending like I didn’t see him. I can feel my anxiety tearing through my body. Like a bull in a china shop. Everything’s being knocked over, and all the alarms are sounding.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

My stops coming up fast and I push the button. I get up as soon as the bus slows and race to the front. I thank the driver and get off and my legs move like Seabiscuit. My apartment is down a side road, so I take the first right. My purse gets snagged, and I get pulled back with it.

I spin on my heels and come face-to-face with the creeper. I slam my foot down on his and shove him away. I bolt towards my apartment, my hand reaching into my purse, rooting around for my keys. I get to the front door. Fumbling the keys at first, I get the door open. I spin, pulling the door shut when I do. Except, it doesn’t shut. And he’s in front of me, wrenching the door open.

“Help!” I muffle as he puts his hand over my mouth and pushes me down. Before we hit the ground, the mirrors that cover the walls of the apartment shatter, the lights blow out, and darkness encompasses us all.

Long dark tendrils pull the creeper off of me, but his eyes gaze stays put. Boreing into me. Desire filled vessels, with specks of rage sprinkled in doing unspeakable things to me.

“This is quite the mess you’ve found yourself in, Sarah.” Billton’s gentle voice fills the void we’re in.

I’m okay.

I’m okay.

I’m okay.

My hands won’t quit shaking. There’s soreness in my body from all the tremors, my heart aches from the pressure the anxiety has wrought.

Billton reaches out his hand and I accept it.

“Easy now.” He helps me up, with a caring smile on his face. Looking away from me, he continues. “What do you suppose we do with him?”

“Give him to the police.”

“The police?” Billton muses to himself. “They’d let him go. Assault, sure. But he’d get out, wouldn’t he? Do the same things he’s done before.” A wicked grin spreads over his face from eye-to-emerald eye. “I could make him disappear. Just say the word. It’s up to you.”

I shake my head. Why would he give me the choice? He’s the one with the power. I look around, but there’s nothing to look at. Nothing but Billton and him… I breathe in and out. In and out.

I’m okay.

I’m okay…

“I don’t even know if he’s done what you said he did,” I say. I can’t be responsible for someone’s death.

Billton looks me up and down. Not in a menacing way, though, just like he’s trying to figure me out. “I could show you.”

“How?” I snap my attention to him. “If you have video proof, why not give it to the police?”

He leans forward, putting his head next to mine. “It’s not video evidence.” He gently moves my head so my gaze falls on the creeper. “Just look into his eyes…”

***

There’s a young woman sitting on a park bench on top of a hill. The moon is out and so the darkness doesn’t completely take over. Lights from the city can be seen around the base of the hill. There’s no one else around. Both her legs are bouncing as she cradles herself. It’s a little cold, and she forgot her sweater at home. She pulls out her phone.

“Come on, you’re late.”

A rustling of some bushes grabbed her attention. Shooting up off the bench, she whirls around and sees a silhouette coming towards her.

“You’re late!” She skips over, then stops. “Wait… you’re that guy from the…”

He lunges towards her, clamping his hand over her mouth and pushes her to the ground. Pain shoots through her back as she squirms to get loose. Tears roll down her face as a burning sensation cuts into her thigh. The guy holds a knife up to her face. Blood dripping off of it.

“Be nice,” he says, before he continues…

***

I can hear my heart beating inside my chest, while a numbness spreads through my body like a virus. I’m still looking into the creeper’s eyes. Those haunting eyes were the last thing that girl saw. They were almost the last things I saw.

I’m not okay.

I’m not okay.

“Billton,” I mumble.

“Yes?”

“I don’t ever want to see him again.”

“Excellent choice.” A snap echoes throughout the void and the creeper gets dragged down into it. Darkness covering his body inch by inch as he sinks deeper and deeper and deeper into oblivion. And I can’t look away from those eyes, and they don’t look away from me. Not until they’re completely gone.

I blink once and I’m back in the apartment’s entryway. “Is he dead?” Did I condemn a man to death? Does it even matter?

“Something like that.” Billton hands over a handkerchief. “For your eyes.”

I touch my cheeks, not realizing I had been crying. “…Thank you.”

“You made the right choice.” Billton heads towards the door. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing me in the cafe anymore.” He looks over his shoulder, giving me a gentle smile. “However, I’m sure we’ll meet again. Someday.” He walks out the door and disappears. Like he had never even been there.

I don’t know what to do. I look at my hands, neither are shaking, but they don’t feel alright. I’m not okay.

Credit: Harlow Thorne