I shivered as cold air brushed against my neck as I pulled my hair up into a messy bun. It was late and I was rather worn out from the long day of being around people I didn't particularly like. Climbing up into my bed, I pulled the heavy and feather filled black comforter on top of me. Even though spring has well arrived; central Texas still remained cold. I snuggled up into my pillow; sighing as I realized I could finally relax. My eyes fluttered closed, sleep coming my way.
Just as I was being consumed in the soothing darkness of sleep, something woke me. Opening my resistant, tired eyes, I looked over at the side table. On top of it, my phone was buzzing and blaring a song and, at any other time, I would’ve considered it enjoyable. So, lazily I reached over and slid my thumb across the touch screen to unlock it, then pressed the top of the phone against my ear to listen.
“Hello?” I greeted in a voice heavy with sleep.
Having not checked who the caller was, I was surprised to hear a distressed Alex answer me. I could hear his heavy breathing and a bit of panic as he spoke. “Lindy, I need you here. Now!”
Confused, I sat up and scratched my head. “What's wrong?” My heart had begun to beat faster as a feeling of worry kicked in.
He didn't really respond to my question, he only repeated what he said earlier. “I need you here. I need you to come to my house right now.”
Knowing Alex, this had to be serious. He was a serious person. He didn't kid around and would generally never call me this late. Images of various disastrous scenarios flashed through my head.
Not even waiting to say goodbye, I hung up the phone and jumped off my bed. I slipped on a jacket and a pair of slippers and rushed out of my room to the stairs.
Beginning to panic, I grabbed my keys off the counter and practically ran to my car. What could be wrong? What was so bad that he couldn't just tell me over the phone? As the seconds passed, the more gruesome the images became in my head of what could’ve possibly happened to Alex. The one thing I did know was that he was alive. The last time I checked, dead people didn't make a habit of calling you and asking you over to their homes.
Pulling up in front of his house, I hurried up the sidewalk to Alex's front door. Raising my hand to knock on the front door, I hesitated. What if whatever happened and was inside was something I just really didn't want to see? Or worse, what if I was wrong, what if something did get to Alex and . . . No, he couldn't be. Too many “what-ifs” filled my head.
Finally, I tapped my knuckles against the door and took a step back, hugging my jacket closer around me. What appeared behind the door wasn't nearly as gruesome as I imagined but it wasn't much better. Alex's face was ghostly pale and his eyes were bloodshot, like he had been crying for hours.
He made eye contact and stepped aside so I could come in. Walking a few feet forward, I stopped and stared at the mass amount of papers on the floor. Scattered along the living room floor was at least sixty pieces of paper, all covered in black and messy lettering and pictures. Bending down on my knees, I scooted a few papers aside to get a better look at the mass amount of papers. Quickly, I noticed a reoccurring image.
Upon many of them was a tall, faceless man in a suit. Aside for the faceless part, there wasn't anything abnormal about the man except for an addition of a few extra arm like limbs that stretched across the pages. Picking up a particularly creepy image of the man, I made my way over to Alex, who still stood by the front door. “What is this?” I gestured at the paper that crinkled in my hand.
His eyes were locked on the cherry wood floors. I repeated the question, a little louder this time and shoved the picture at him. Normally, I would wait patiently for a response, but this wasn't a normal case. Something was wrong, I knew something was wrong and I wasn't about to pretend I didn't receive a panicked phone call only minutes before.
