Him

“Thank you! See you again tomorrow.” I waved the last customer good bye, smiling excitedly. He’s a usual diner; he eats his meal at least once in every two days here. But I still don’t know his name, or what he’s doing, or anything about him at all aside from the fact that he wears his shades all the time, rain or shine.

Like an undercover celebrity . Now I’m starting to wonder if he really is, as he could pass as one with his quiet and dignified demeanor. He’s not the chatty, friendly type; which for days like this, feels like a treat. He mostly keeps to himself, writing in his notebook for hours with his slender hands. He’s a huge spender though, so I don’t mind. And Yvonne loves him, for several good reasons. Understandable.

I tipped the signage over. Finally, it's closing time.

After what happened earlier with the woman and the racket that I made out of it, I just want to go home and rest. It’s been a while since I’ve been caught off-guard like that with a non-imposing malignant. It was hilariously unimposing. It was just there; it didn’t even try to attach to me. I started imagining her eating her lunch with that thing inside her mouth.

I giggled guiltily. Sorry, I can’t help it.

Cleaning up after the last customer’s table was a breeze, and I was off to rearrange the tables and chairs when it happened .

—

I was moving around, lifting chairs into the right place, and moving from one table into another. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. I paused for a moment. It became silent, the usual buzz of activities outside were gone.

Now, I can feel someone standing still behind me, breathing heavily.

A bit too still for my liking.

You know the feeling when you are busy with something but you instinctively know what a person’s doing in your peripheral vision? Same logic. The feeling of his breath wafting on the top of my head also helped.

Did I miss a customer? I wondered. I was laughing and imagining scenarios about the woman after all.

“Excuse me but we are already closed for tonight.” I said in a rush. I just want to get things done so I can go home. I turned around to look at the person visiting too late.

This man, his thin, pointed nose perfectly aligned with my forehead, is looking down at me while barely moving his head. He looks sickly pale; too white that feels like his skin is drinking up all the light around him.

His ink-black irises are hinting a bit of red in the middle. Like how people’s eyes look on the old, developed films taken with a flash that’s too bright.

It glows. Unnoticeable unless someone is peering into it intently, like what I’m doing right now. I gaped at him as I kept on staring at this person’s orbs. Now, I can see that it’s floating, swaying, on the surface of his irises like an overlay; a deep, bloody red paint having a constant dance with a golden turpentine. It’s mesmerizing… in a freaky, seductive way.

I just want to look at it forever.

Then he smirked. A bit too wide to be natural… with white, neatly arranged teeth that are a bit too pointed. I noticed how his smile didn’t reach his eyes. That made me snap back into reality. And that’s when I noticed everything else.

His thick, dark hair is stuck out in different directions; like someone who got out of bed and went straight out of the house. His lips are strikingly dark against his skin, like a deep-purple bruise formed from a fight the night before.

He raised a thin, dark brow without losing the smug look on his face. Then his cold breath touched my face; it’s like putting ice directly on my skin.

“Wha–” I backed away, creating a huge distance between the two of us as much as possible. My body instinctively knows what to do before I recognize what’s happening. My body’s moving to survive, like how our ancestors do.

His eyes are getting redder.

He winked at me while pointing at something. His bony finger is tipped with a sharp, black nail.

My whole body is frozen in place; like a deer caught off-guard by an incoming headlight.

“…”

My mind is blank. I’m waiting.

“…”

For what?

A moment that felt like forever passed by. No one is making a move. His eyes are locked into mine, his pale hand still outstretched forward. It’s a game of who’s going to give in. I took a huge gulp.

Without a choice, I turned to look around.

—

“Lira?”

Fred is peeking from the kitchen door, holding a scrubber. I almost screamed; with him standing there out of nowhere and with the creepy person lurking behind me, I am very tempted to scream at the top of my lungs and run away. But this kind of terror that I’m feeling right now is keeping my voice, and my feet, in place. I took a long exhale. I didn’t notice that I was holding my breath for so long.

“Are you talking to me? I didn’t hear what you said.” I can barely hear his words on top of the sound of my racing heartbeat.

“No, this person right her–” I looked behind me to point him out to Fred.. The tall man, with his creepy demeanor, that’s hovering behind me for a couple of minutes already.

I am staring back at an empty dining room.

Nobody’s there.

“He was just here.” I muttered, still comprehending what’s happening. Fred’s face is full of confusion. “What’s going on? Yvonne just left. Are you looking for her?”

I shook my head slowly. My gaze went towards the door with the hanging “CLOSED” sign. I would have heard the bell ringing if someone opened or closed the door. I looked around thoroughly, hoping for a hint of a person hiding behind a chair or underneath one of the tables.

Nothing.

Could I have imagined it?

But one look at my shaking hands says otherwise.

—

It’s been an hour but I still can’t shake off the weird feeling that I have.

This never happened to me before. Whatever that is. I tried to recall what happened as I was putting out the cutlery into a small basket in my hands. I never recalled hearing him come in, nor him approaching me.

His eyes.

That smirk.

The way it glows.

Those mysterious red-golden orbs.

… and the way I was hooked.

I don’t know what happened but it feels like all the contents are being pulled deeply from the pits of my stomach; a strange sense of dread is hanging over me.

Across the room, I can still see Fred looking at me concernedly. After what happened, he didn’t go back to the kitchen. He’s been wiping the surface of the front desk for at least 20 minutes now.

I know that he’s trying to figure out what’s happening while trying to watch out for me. He’s sending out that look once every couple of minutes, like something will happen if he’s not looking. It’s funny, and I’ll not miss the opportunity to tease him for it, if not for this feeling that I have.

I tried to flash an extra “I’m okay, no worries” smile at him, but I couldn't. Instead, I reached for the pitcher on the receiving table to help myself to a glass of water.

I heard him scurrying towards my direction.

“Are you sure that you’re okay? You’re pale.” He placed his right hand on my forehead. I would have reacted differently if not for my constant urge to expel everything that I ate the whole day. His hand cupped my whole forehead longer than it should be; it felt delicate, gentle.

I can imagine the sweat transferring into his palms. I stepped back consciously. His hazel eyes are still scanning my face beneath his glasses. Too different from the previous pair of eyes that I’ve seen.

“You’re freezing. Did you eat something bad? I’m being serious, you look bad.” His usual smile is gone; it must have been that bad.

“I’ll walk you home. I don’t think that you can make it back there without help. And you can’t say no.”

I feel grateful for the gesture. I mustered all the energy to form a smile at him. The nausea is getting intense by the minute. He went inside the staff room to gather our things.

I looked around the restaurant one last time. He ’s not here.

But the nasty feeling of dread still lingers.

Who… or what is he?

—