chapter 2 Insidious

Another night shift, and you looked like someone's unfinished crime scene. Looking at the pair of scissors. The thought did cross your mind. No one would care. It's just you couldn't take it anymore.

You bit the inside of your cheek, reaching for them.

Just enough to remind yourself you're real, you press the blade to your fingertip.

It would hurt.

It would be slow.

Would you regret it while you were dying?

You shut your eyes. Breathed in, maybe for the last time. The cold metal blade touched your neck as you were ready. You'll have to go deep.

Just as you were ready the bell snapped as the door swung open, metal clanging like a warning shot.

You stopped, slamming your hand with the scissors onto the counter.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and still. One hand on the handle. His face was mostly hidden beneath a hood, but you caught his jawline. His nose. A scar curved along his lip like a punctuation.

He stood there staring at you. Observing you. Waiting. A long awkward standstill.

Shit. Did he see that? Shit!

"W-Welcome!" You finally said trying to break the awkward standstill.

He stepped inside, boots silent on the tile. He didn't say anything at first. His boot scraped the floor as he stopped in front of your counter. His head low, looking at the scissors. He looked around the counter for a moment keeping his head down.

His head tilted slightly, like he was deciding something, maybe weighing his options. Placing pieces of the puzzle together.. And you weren't sure what it was. Glancing at his hands that were exposed from the jacket sleeves. He smirked, reaching over with his hands that were both flesh and machine.

He gently took the scissors from the blades sliding the scissors away from your grip.

It felt like he had removed something heavy in your hand. Your palm felt free. You didn't realize just how tense you were until he removed them from your grasp.

He gently placed them next to his side of the counter.

Before raising his head again, his voice cut through the silence.

"You got any of those... honey sticky buns? I don't know what they're called."

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

As he licked his lips. "They look like a spiral. Sticky. Messy."

His voice was like an intimidating checklist.

You were spiraling, you were stuck, and you were a mess.

"But if you microwave 'em right, they're even better than when they were just plain. You know what I mean?" He tilted his head slightly.

You nod your head. "Ya, I think I do."

Turning to grab the last one. Trying to get a hold of yourself.

Walking over to the microwave you could hear him following you. Watching your every move.

You could feel his eyes burning behind your head. Your heart was racing. There was something about him. Something unerving. You kept your eyes on the microwave watching that little sticky bun spin around. Melting and heating up.

Like if it were being brought back to its original state. When it first came out of the oven.

The hairs on your arm stood up and you could feel his breathing. Your whole body was screaming to turn around.

He was behind you.

He reached over and you froze in place feeling his arm brush past your shoulder. Like if he were getting your hair.

Everything inside you screamed danger! Run!

His arm grazed your shoulder as he reached past you, fingers curling around a box of cigarettes on the side rack. The sound of his cybernetic arm hummed faintly as it moved.

He tapped the box on his open palm.

Making you jump slightly.

He had noticed the scars and bruises on your body. From your arms to your face and neck. Notice how you were on high alert. Any small noise made you jump.

He was testing you.

"I'll take these. And a lighter. Lost mine."

You remember the man you made eye contact with in the alley who had also lit up a cigarette in the alley.

You turned around, holding the heated bun in a paper bowl.

"Careful," you murmured. "It's hot."

He reached out to take it. Your fingers brushed. He didn't flinch. If anything, he lingered.

Like this was the closest he was allowed to get for now.

And then you saw it.

Something behind him. Or inside him. A shadow you couldn't explain. Not entirely human.

That crawling sensation like you were being watched... the déjà vu snapped into place like a puzzle piece.

He was more than just a man. He was someone you have met multiple times before. But where? How?

"H- have we ever met before?" You asked him.

Tobi cleared his throat.

He didn't answer right away.

Making his way back to the counter as you followed along to stand behind it.

Instead, he opened the pack of cigarettes, taps one out, and rolls it between his fingers like he's stalling.

His voice comes low, casual but there's something unsteady under it. He has been watching you for a long time. This is just the first time he's made contact with you.

He couldn't stay away anymore. He couldn't fight it anymore. He needs to make you his. To earn your trust.

And he knew you could feel it.

That in a way he was hunting you.

He's studied you for a long time.

He is the homeless man that sits outside the store.

When you arrive for your nightshift that homeless man leaves.

Making you believe it's because even the homeless fear the nightshift.

Since the day you got this job you never mistreated him or chased him away.

You offered him food, water and even whatever cash you had left. Treated him like he mattered. Reminded him that he wasn't discarded.

If you hadn't walked in on time you would have ended your life. And he would have burned this entire city down.

"Maybe," he says. "I pass through a lot of alleys."

He didn't look at you when he said it. But he does glance down at your arm, where the bruise blooms purple and yellowing tones showed.

"Some guy do that to you?"

You hesitate before nodding

"Yeah, some drunk assholes. It Happens." You shrug casually. "But the boss won't hire anymore people. He said when he tried to get someone for nightshift they would disappear or not show up. So I'm stuck being the security/ host of this joint."

He exhales through his nose, the cigarette still unlit between his lips. His cybernetic hand flexes once. Just a twitch, like a ghost impulse. You noticed his small movements, you felt something change when you mentioned the workers would go missing.

"They still breathing?"

Your eyes flick up.

"What?" You are surprised to hear him ask that.

He shrugs, finally meeting your gaze. There's no heat in his tone, no sharpness, just a question...

"Do you want them to be?" He asked you.

And that's when the air shifts.

"Who?" You asked so he could clarify himself.

"The thieves."

You don't know if he's being serious but somehow that maxe you suspicious of him.

Who was this man?

To just so bluntly ask such a question.

But it also made you feel like maybe he cared. No one else does. Not the law enforcement, not your boss, not even your boyfriend.

And it's like he saw that in your eyes he felt it, that he lit up some sort of hope in you before you forced yourself to forget it. Like if you didn't want to be fed false hope, that someone cared ...

You let out a small chuckle looking down. He could see deep down inside you wanted to say yes.

" Uh... do you need anything else?" you ask. "Coffee?" It comes out too soft, like you're offering safety to the very thing that just threatened it.

"I'd love that," he said in a devilish tone. Knowing you have now welcomed him.

Tobi let out a haunting whisper as you left the counter to make him coffee.

"Don't worry. I won't let them hurt you again."

He said in a sweet devilish tone.

You froze.

Did he say that?

The coffee machine hissed to life. You didn't turn around.

Maybe you imagined it?

But you could feel him watching you.

Not for protection.

it was unerving. But then again you were fighting between wanting to believe that there wasn't malicious intentions. He did just save you from yourself…