MONDAY
“Good Morning,” he and his reflection say to one another.
He arranges, then rearranges his hair, ruffling it until it’s just right. It’s a little long, but not too much and not exactly short; it’s convenient. Less work and at the same time, it achieves what he wants stylistically, all the while allowing him to stick to his schedule with no impediments. He likes to have a clean, yet disheveled, look. That would be the best way to describe his entire wardrobe.
His mom, when she’s looking for a laugh from strangers, says he dresses like an unsuspecting homeless person. He doesn’t talk to his mom too often. While the mocking and desperation for strangers’ attention doesn’t help, it’s not the reason.
He brushes his teeth for two minutes and thirty seconds. Mouth wash comes after. He swishes it around and allows it to sit beside his cheeks until there is a burning sensation, and thirty seconds after that, he finally spits it out. A facial cleansing involving gentle rubs with the tip of his fingers. The sink is then filled to the brim with ice-cold water; he puts his face in it, finalizing his cleansing. Keeping himself under just long enough before the water forcibly enters his lungs. He pat dries his face with a washcloth, keeping it slightly damp so that he can easily apply various and relatively expensive moisturizers, once again carried out in the same way he applied his facial cleanser. To finish it all off, a few spritzes of cologne.
Depending on his mood and overall thoughts of himself this morning, he will make the ever so important decision of either contacts or glasses… To decide, he and his reflection stare at one another. Each trying to find the cracks of the other, a game to see who’s the real one. Both waiting for a split. However, they just continue staring and mimicking each other’s facial movements. Niro deems it sufficient to stop here. For now, he’s proven himself to be the real one.
Tap.
Glasses it is.
He looks in the mirror one more time and he puts on a smooth and ever so charming smile that sits perfectly on his face; it comes to him easily. To the unsuspecting, it’s quite genuine. Just for safe measure, he does a few more, increasing and decreasing the amount of teeth he shows with each one, adjusting until it’s just right. If one, unfamiliar with Niro, were to make their way in, at first glance, they could be led to believe he and his reflection were two different people.
Tap.
He gets dressed, puts on his grey tweed jacket, and walks out the door. Unlocking, locking, unlocking, and locking the door is easily the most tedious process of his entire morning. It’s like a maximum-security prison with seven different locks and seven different keys. Unlocking and locking each one. His landlord, a small weasley woman, found it strange because most people move into this building because of it being in a safe area. Most who move in don’t find the need to put on six extra locks. The landlord often wondered if Niro had something to hide. That thought, whenever it crept in, left just as quickly as it had entered as soon as the rent was paid. It was always early.
He’s out of his door at the same time every morning. Because of this, he always finds himself exchanging pleasantries with Jack, the janitor. Most don’t speak to him, not for any other reason than he’s a janitor. Before their conversation starts, Niro already has a timer going on in his head for their conversation. He normally allows it to go for around two minutes. He has a schedule to keep.
“Ah, mornin’ Bickle. How do ya do?” Jack’s favorite movie is Taxi Driver, so solely because of the correlation between Niro and Robert DeNiro, Jack calls him by the main character’s name. Jack’s an older, puffy man with a thick mustache and bald head where not much hair used to live. He’s from a much more trusting era, something he’ll bring up quite often. Even though he says you can’t trust anyone nowadays, he still puts on a friendly face with every person willing to make eye contact.
“Hey, Jack. I’m doing the same as always,” Niro responds.
“Ah. Well, anythin’ excitin’ goin’ on for ya?” he asks with some optimism, even though he knows the answer.
“Nope, not really.”
“Jesus Bickle, how’s my life more excitin’ than yours? It’s always work, home, work, home, work, and home with ya. You’re young, single, almost as handsome as me, and, yet you live like a middle-aged divorcee.”
“Why don’t you start going out for me then?”
“Hell, If I didn’t need this job to take care of Lillian, I’d be bare ass on my bike ridin’ through the country till’ there was none left t’ see.” Jack and Niro have this conversation once a week; it’s happening earlier than usual.
“I’m sure that’s a sight everyone would love. It’s a shame, but going around naked falls a little outside of what I’m allowed to do. Besides, if I was out there, going cross-country, not a single person here would take the time to talk to you.” Both Jack and Niro know this to be true. “I have to go, but are you going to be here when I get back? I can grab you a coffee.”
“You’re not in prison, son, you’ve gotta allow for some freedom,” Jack speaks with the same tenderness Niro's grandfather spoke with. It’s nostalgic.
Niro walks towards the elevator, tapping on his wrist where no watch actually sits. “The clock is tick, tick, ticking and I still need an answer on that coffee.” Jack and Niro have a staring contest with one another.
Jack lets a smile breakthrough. “... Black.”
“With lots of sugar?” Niro smiles back.
“Absolutely not.” Even though Jack says this, he can’t take one sip without at least four packets of sugar. Niro tried on multiple occasions giving him straight black coffee and he stated it’s not the kind he likes. He only thinks he likes it black because Niro takes the time to sweeten it up for him. Niro suspects his wife, Lilian, does this for him as well.
Niro smiles back and gives a wave as he walks into the elevator. Performance zero out of ten. Jack is the most genuine person Niro ever comes into contact with. Niro’s performance, ten out of ten, as usual.
At work, Niro sits at a desk and types away. He’s not too sure what he does. The only thing he is sure of is that he’s the best at it. At least that’s what his boss tells him. He only wanted this job because it allows him to work five days a week. He clocks in at 10 am and leaves at 6 pm, just in time for him to stop at the store, pick up ingredients, make dinner, watch a show, or movie, go to bed, and rinse and repeat for the next day.
Whenever he and his coworkers talk longer than Niro prefers, they always question his schedule; they say it is far too structured and that he never allows for the freedom of random chance in his days. Every time, he bites down on the inside of his cheek. How nice it must be for them, but he can’t allow that. Every moment matters. On multiple occasions they have tried to become friendly with Niro, but he barely considers them work acquaintances. They’re strictly coworkers. It’s for the best.
Back at home, he makes himself a quick and easy dinner, Spaghetti Carbonara, paired with a Pinot Grigio. He finishes cooking, eating, and enjoying, at 8 pm. After his clean-up, he watches a movie that finishes at 10:10 pm, which he would consider his bedtime.
Before he heads to bed, he brushes his teeth for two minutes and thirty seconds. Mouth wash comes after. He swishes it around and allows it to sit beside his cheeks until there is a burning sensation. Thirty seconds after that, he finally spits it out. A facial cleansing involving gentle rubs with the tip of his fingers. The sink is then filled to the brim with ice-cold water; he puts his face in it, finalizing his cleansing. Keeping himself under just long enough before the water forcibly enters his lungs. Pat dries his face with a washcloth, keeping it slightly damp so that he can easily apply his expensive nighttime moisturizer. This is his routine. Each and every day, perhaps only ever straying on his days off, even then it is rare.
It is now the part of the day where he heads to bed so that he can wake up and do it all over again.
Tap.
As he lays still, eyes closed, wrapped in warm sheets, he slowly drifts away.
Tap.
Niro's eyes open.
He is no longer wrapped in the comfort of his bed.
He now finds himself sitting on the ground in a cold black room. His hands, shaking, but not because of the cold.
As his eyes adjust, he notices he’s encircled by a vague sea of bodies: they remain motionless. They have no discerning features. The only thing noticeable is their eyes, blue? No. Green? No… Hazel. Yes. He’s seen these eyes before, but he can’t place a face to them. It’s not like the face really matters, he’s only focused on the eyes. They’re beautiful, they’re so serene.
Tap.
The bodies all sway together at once, back and forth, back and forth. Other features on their faces take shape. With it, the look of serenity dissipates. Quickly, those eyes fill with bloodied tears that stream down their face that now has morphed into terror. All at once, they scream in unison.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
The bodies, continuing back and forth, back and forth, move forward towards Niro. He tries looking for an escape but there’s nowhere to go, it's just him and a dark sea of bodies. Closer.
The screams get louder. Niro frantically rushes them, hoping to push through. Using all of his strength, he runs forward and breaks through the dark sea… only to find himself back in the middle and encircled once again. Closer.
Niro screams at the top of his lungs only to find he has no voice. He grabs at his throat and collapses. The screams, he can hear their vocal chords rip. He covers his ears but to no avail, they’ve seeped into his mind.
They are upon him now. All looking down on him, the bloodied river of tears now drips onto Niro. They overtake him.
Nothing but darkness.
He returns to being a helpless child, cradled in his own arms, and remains unmoving. Light seeps through.
Niro sits up and finds himself no longer surrounded by bodies.
He’s in the shed.
Everything is the same as it was, even down to the bloodied scratches on the door.
Tap.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
The tapping sounds throughout. That’s the only sound. It’s all he can hear. No more. He can’t take it anymore. Niro, in desperation, grips his ears. Pulling, feeling each piece of skin tear and separate. Finally, they’re off, it can finally stop... Please, it has to stop.
But it continues.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap--
Nothing.
It’s quiet. No screams, no tapping, just pure silence.
There’s a loud overextended creak. Niro looks to see that the shed door is opening. Niro, still shaking, picks himself off of the ground and rushes over to the door. Before it can fully open, he bodies into it, slamming it shut.
Tap, tap, tap.
It dies off. The tapping, for now, is gone.
Once again, he’s kept the stranger out.
TUESDAY
“Good… Morning...” he and his reflection say to one another. “We’re late.”
He messes with his hair a bit, trying his best to achieve his patented clean yet disheveled look, which inevitably he does, but it takes much longer than usual.
He brushes his teeth for one minute and twenty seconds. He skips the mouthwash today. His facial cleansing, which is normally a slow and delicate process, is rushed and uninvolved. He rinses his face in the same fashion. Pat dries his face with a washcloth, keeping it slightly damp so that he can easily apply various and relatively expensive moisturizers. To finish it all off, a few spritzes of cologne.
He and his reflection stare at one another. Both wait for the inevitable split. However, they just continue staring and mimicking each other’s facial movements. Niro decides it’s best to stop here. He’s proven himself once again. The choice of glasses or contacts is debated, but he decides upon glasses.
He looks in the mirror one more time and tries to put on a smooth and ever-so-charming smile; it takes a few tries, but eventually, he manages it. Even though he’s short on time, he does a couple more for safe measure, increasing and decreasing the amount of teeth he shows with each one, adjusting until it’s just right.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
He gets dressed, puts on a jacket, and quickly rushes out the door so he’s not late. He has his schedule set for himself that he must keep. As soon as he’s out the door, he does his lockup. This time, only five of the locks are done.
The timer is set for one minute and thirty seconds. “Mornin’ Bickle. How goes it?” Jack asks Niro halfheartedly. Niro takes notice of the tone in his voice. Something happened.
“Hey there Jack. Thought I would let you know I had a complete rager last night.”
“Uh-huh. Was that b’fore or after you brought me my coffee? Then went inside to drink a bottle of wine and watch a movie… alone.”
“It was probably somewhere in between. Are you going to be here when I get back? I can grab you a coffee.”
“I’m gettin’ off early t’day, so probably not. Thank you though,” Jack responds with a broken smile. He’s putting up a performance, four out of ten. At most with him, it’s a two out of ten. Jack is too honest of a man to be putting up any kind of act, especially in front of Niro.
No matter, Niro has a schedule to keep, he can ask him about it next time, “Alright, I’ll get you tomorrow.”
Niro only takes a few steps before he stops himself from rushing off. He has an inkling of what’s putting Jack down, and knows he should ask him about it. He turns around and walks back towards the older puffy man, who’s forcing himself to do his job.
“Is Lillian okay?” Niro asks, as faux concerned as he knows how. He puts on his best sympathetic face. Semi-closed but focused eyes, along with a reassuring but pitying smile, nodding his head now and then. It’s truly exhausting. However, it needs to be done. The performance is what ties it all together.
Jack continues to work, “... It’s tough t’ say. Y’know, there’re good days and bad ones… it’s just… th’ doctors say th’ treatment’s not takin’, so there’ve been a lot more bad ones lately. And th’ bad ones… they make ya think more about life and everythin’ you’ve been through together and th’ inevitable… and…
“I’m scared of goin’ at it alone.”
Jack falls silent. It’s the only thing he can do to hold back tears. The era Jack’s from is also one where men didn’t cry in front of other men. Niro understands why; it shows weakness. When your physical standing was all that used to matter, something like crying, well, that knocks you down a few pegs on the imaginary totem pole of strength.
Niro finds Jacks confiding in him admirable; odd but admirable. However, his stomach has begun to scream and squirm. There is a schedule. One Niro must keep, otherwise everything will fall apart. Jack has a part to play in his morning, and he’s not doing that. These morning encounters were not built on one of meaningful back and forths, where they shed tears about life’s tragedies, one consoling the other. Absolutely not. This is not okay. He’s late. With him, every moment counts.
He just places his hand on Jack’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, look if there’s anything you need, just ask.”
Performance eight out of ten. Decent, but there were some cracks. Niro only hopes Jack will ask him for the proper support, in the only way he knows; money.
Jack pats Niro on the shoulder, “Thanks. Havin’ you around t’ talk with makes it easier. You’re a good friend.”
Friend. He’s always known this relationship means a great deal more to Jack, but he finds “friend” is a bit of a strong word. While, out of everyone, Jack is the person closest to Niro, he tries to only keep them as friendly acquaintances. It’s not that he doesn’t like Jack, he does. Jack brings about a sense of calm and safety. It’s safe to say, Jack has become an integral part of Niro’s routine. It’s just that terminology is—
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Niro has to leave right now.
Without a word, Niro removes his hand and walks silently towards the elevator, leaving Jack behind, confused and alone. His mom wouldn’t have been too happy about how he acted back there, “Inappropriate and in completely poor taste.” She would say. She never quite understood him. To be frank, she didn’t want to.
The only person who ever really understood him was his grandfather. His grandfather had a side that was a lot like Jack, honest to a fault, sweet as all old men should be to their grandchildren, and someone who always lent a helping hand with a smile. He was strong and sturdy. Niro always thought he was the personification of whiskey. That could also just have been due to the fact that he always smelled of it. He stood over 6 ft and had the beard of a lumberjack, the grip of one too. Men like him don’t exist anymore.
It was hard for Niro at the time; he would look in the mirror and see nothing. Dark pits of lifelessness. Making sure to never stare for too long.
His grandparents took him out to their lake house during spring break at age thirteen. Both his grandma and mom did their best to force him to interact with the other kids, even though none of the kids wanted to interact with him.
After a mind-numbing afternoon spent out watching the other kids swim in the lake, his grandfather took him aside, placed his hand tightly on his shoulder, and stated with a smile, “We’re going for a walk.”
It was less of a request and more of a demand; it slightly confused Niro. His grandfather wasn’t one to do that.
Nevertheless, he didn’t think about it too much. He would take any excuse to get away from everyone else. Even though his primary reason for going on the walk was to get away, his grandfather was one of the few people he actually enjoyed spending time with.
Thoughts of his grandfather were going through his head for the rest of the day. Niro tried to set up a visitation with him, knowing all too well that he would decline. After being put away, his grandfather would refuse all visitations with family, only ever speaking to lawyers and press. His grandfather abandoned him. All Niro has of his grandfather now is the structure he instilled in him, all so he could keep his stranger at bay.
However, today has been harder than most. He wasn’t able to focus at work, so much so that he messed up. It was the first time that has happened. He feels a change; it's the stranger. He’s made himself more apparent, both with the dreams and incessant tapping. Work-tap, store-tap, home-tap, dinner-tap, show-tap, and dream-tap. No sense of peace. Because of it, each of those things has lost its natural course.
He skips the store; he skips the movie, and just heads straight to bed hoping this night’s sleep will allow for a reset. Tomorrow will be brand new.
Niro stands at the edge of his bed. Normally, it’s a welcome sight that he quickly falls into. Yet, tonight, his breathing is rough, and he hesitates. Knowing all too well that the stranger waits for him, trying to ever so slightly break him down. Tap, tap, tap. From agitation, he bites down on the inside of his cheek. The stranger could have gotten through that door long ago, but he wants Niro to open it himself. Niro stares at the bed without sound and without movement. Soon enough, his eyes are now drooping. He knows he cannot wait any longer. Reluctantly, he breaks through his hesitation and heads to bed.
As he drifts off to sleep, he allows the darkness to envelop him and, soon enough, he’s dreaming. Yet, he’s not where he usually is; he’s standing in darkness. Nothing around. He focuses; there’s something in here with him, inside the darkness. He moves forward to find a way out.
He ventures further. There’s something beyond the darkness.
Two figures. Deeper inside, he goes for a clearer view.
The stranger. He sees him leaning over a body.
His teeth sinking in and tearing at the body’s flesh.
Niro, unable to hold back his curiosity, walks closer.
As he does, the view is much clearer. He can now see whose body is being torn to shreds.
It’s him, Niro. The stranger, without taking breath, continues to rip Niro apart.
Blood drips down the stranger’s lips and onto Niro’s lifeless eyes.
His heart races. Blood burning hot.
Niro tries running away but he can’t move.
He blinks.
Niro is now on the ground, looking up at the stranger.
Unable to move. Forced to watch as the stranger finishes his work.
WEDNESDAY
Niro is late once again — tap — he jumps out of the bed — tap — skips his shower — tap — and rushes through brushing his teeth. Everything is off. No time for decisions, no time for games. He quickly grabs his glasses and jacket as he rushes out the door.
He prepared the conversation in his head for why he’ll have to cut his and Jack’s banter down by thirty seconds, “Sorry Jack, I realized how late I was and have to leave.”
It’s not a great excuse, but it’s the only one he can think of right now.
However, to his bewilderment, Jack is not there. Why is Jack not there — He’s always right there, sweeping up, and waiting… Where is he? Is it because of Niro leaving? Did Jack decide to end their morning talks because of how Niro acted? It wasn’t his fault! The stranger was at the door.
Niro’s morning has already been turned asunder, but with Jack gone… everything is wrong. Everything about this day is wrong—
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap—
No! No, he’s fine. The dream just threw him off, and being late, messed with his head. And, with Jack gone…
While he would never outwardly admit it, Jack had become an integral part of his morning, and with him suddenly no longer there, it’s all off. Given where his head is now, Niro should go back into the apartment and lock the door, not just for his own sanity but for others' safety. He needs to prove to himself he doesn’t need Jack to be okay. He continues with his day like normal.
As soon as he enters the building for work, he knows he has made a mistake. Nevertheless; he forces himself to keep going. Normally, he can replicate the office banter with some inane banter of his own. Today, though, he can’t make conversation. He’s too focused on everyone’s eyes.
THURSDAY
Niro awakes in a stupor and fumbles out of bed. The dreams are getting out of hand.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap—
“Shut it — Shut — shut — shut up!” he screams silently. He walks over to the mirror with a scowl, while his reflection wears a smile.
His heart pauses.
His cheeks grow wider and more of his teeth show. They’re stained.
Niro runs his tongue over his own teeth. Blood.
Niro turns from the mirror and cautiously moves back towards his bedroom.
He can hear him tap, tap, tap, tap, tapping from the mirror.
Niro stands still, watching from the doorway, then slowly shuts the door. Locking, unlocking, locking, unlocking, and locking.
Niro calls into work and lets them know he’s unable to come in today. After the phone call, he coils himself in bedsheets and hides out in his room for the entire day. From outside the door, there’s another voice alongside Niro’s.
FRIDAY
Tap, tap, tap.
Niro hears the tapping, but it’s different. It’s coming from somewhere in the apartment.
Tap, tap, tap.
He looks under the bed where all he finds are dust bunnies and a few strands of blonde hair. He looks in the closet where he only finds clothes, shoes, a rope, and a chair. As he heads towards the kitchen—
Tap, tap, tap.
Again, but this time he knows where it’s coming. Cautiously, he moves towards the bathroom where the light is on; he hasn’t been in there all day. As he enters, he faces a reflection he believes to still be his.
Tap, tap, tap.
Niro focuses on the mirror. Who is he? Not him, but the other. Deeper and deeper he falls into his eyes as he continues to look. He’s utterly entranced.
Tap, tap, tap.
The stranger comes forth, tap, tap, tapping at the mirror. They look into each other’s eyes. They’re the same color as his, but behind the blue is a dark void that reminds him of long ago. Slowly, falling deeper and deeper into it.
“Good Morning,” the stranger smiles, showing all of his teeth. Not increasing or decreasing, he bares his fangs without fear.
Niro closes his eyes and when he opens them, he no longer sees the stranger but himself. They are one and the same.
Fear? Rage? Guilt? He’s unsure, but one of them begins to boil over and without a thought, his fist shatters the mirror. Pieces of glass fall and remain. Niro looks at the pieces, seeing bits of his reflection coated in red, dripping their blood. His blood. He looks at his fist and there he finds a few gashes and one long slice “The beauty hidden within…” a whisper crawls into his mind. Raising his hand to lips, slowly, taking his time licking the wound, tasting.
He returns to bed and thoughts spiral throughout his mind. Thoughts he cannot say aloud. He doesn’t want to make them true. Once again, his mother becomes a thought, particularly what she could have done. Perhaps, if he went to therapy when he was young, this would not be happening. He would not be… this. However, his mother didn’t believe in therapy. At the least, she believed it would have been a waste on him. It was likely because she saw it as her admitting there was a fault in her as a parent. Instead, she decided it was best to treat him like he was a piece of clay and mold him into something she could understand. It worked. In some sense.
She was quite good at molding, so from that clay of nothing, he became a showroom car. Beautiful and shiny on the outside, with just the right color. However, when looking a little closer, something is off. Deciding to look under the hood, expecting to find an engine that matches that beauty of an exterior. Instead, there’s absolutely nothing. Empty.
Eventually, when Niro was on his own, he went to therapy, hoping to fill that emptiness. His mom was right. It was a waste. It was too late for him, maybe if he went sooner…
He doesn’t think of his mom often, ever in fact, and yet, within the past week, she’s popped into his head more times than within the past year. He even admitted she was right about something… that’s not an occurrence he wants.
The last thought before pushing her from his mind and hiding in his room once again is, did she not love me because of what I am, or am I what I am because she did not love me… and he did.
SATURDAY
It’s Saturday and his day off. He’ll be going to get a cup of coffee and stop at the park for a read. It doesn't matter what else happened in the week; he has to do this. Every Saturday, he will go get a cup of coffee, go to the park and read. He’s allowed for the stranger to undo most of his week. He won’t allow him to mess with it any further. However, this week has shown he direly needs restructuring, so that will be on his to-do list.
As always, the coffee comes first. The shop is a little lodge that’s hidden near the park. It could easily be and is often most likely misconstrued for someone’s home. A creak and a ding go off as he opens the door. Each time he opens it, he’s afraid the entire shop will collapse. It doesn’t. Strangely, he’s forced to duck every time he enters. Strange, because he’s not that tall.
He walks to the counter and has his pleasant chat with Gerard, all while keeping count in his head. Gerard was extra chatty today, so their transaction lasted fifty seconds. His performance, however, was consistent, three out of ten. Niro then gets out of line, walks over to the wall, and patiently waits for his coffee with extra cream, extra sugar, and pastry.
As he waits, he watches them as they work. Gerard is in the back. This time, he snuck Niro a lavender scone and is warming it up right now. Noble took over the register and is putting on her act with a new customer, “Where did you get your tattoos done? I absolutely love them.” She says as she rubs the ink on her arm. Kara is making the customers coffee that was right before him. It was a surprise at first, but she always makes it just right. Gerard doesn’t make it sweet enough, and Noble puts in too much cream. Kara is just right.
Niro vaguely remembers a dream he once had, and Kara was part of it. Not just a part of, she may have been the star. It happened the day of his last visit. Remembering his dreams isn’t a problem because he’s always lucid. As of this week, though, the stranger has been making it more difficult for him to be in control.
As he tries to remember the dream, he watches her. Focusing on her mouth and arms, focusing on the tattoos and the scars that are hidden beneath them. He wonders if they're self-inflicted or not. He wouldn’t want to scar her, he wouldn’t want her in any pain. Finally, his focus is on her eyes… hazel. He had never noticed the color before now.
Niro now remembers the details of that dream and he then closes his eyes…
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Niro opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and calmly but quickly leaves the tiny ram shack. Gerard shouts to him about his coffee and pastry, but Niro cannot hear.
He is still in control. He’s the one in control, not the stranger. It’s still Saturday. It’s still Saturday, so he’ll go to the park and have a read. He will not allow the stranger to impede that.
As he walks through the park, he notices that it’s rather crowded today… lots of different types doing many different things. All of them here. There’s a woman going for a jog, a child playing with his dog, a couple having a picnic… all of them are taking it for granted—
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Niro switches focus. Going over to the bench nearest to him, which inadvertently has a great overview of the park and everyone in it. He takes a seat. It’s uncomfortable. He pulls out Margaret Atwood’s Stone Mattress and allows his eyes to focus on the page, immersing himself in the characters’ personal lives, seeing and hearing things he shouldn’t be seeing or hearing.
A moment passes.
His eyes shift up to the young redhead tanning out on the grass. Tap, tap, tap, tap—
Niro forces his eyes back to the page, keeping them down. He reads more into their lives and more of — tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
He tosses the book aside. Why should he force lesser enjoyment on himself? He won’t act, he’ll just watch. He has self-control, he’s been controlling himself for thirty years, surely he can allow for an afternoon of just… watching. Imagining… nothing further. He’s content, he’s fine with what he has, he needs nothing more. He doesn’t wish for the freedom they have, he’s fine.
So, because he’s fine, he can watch them allow perfect moments to pass without care, thus turning them into just moments, no longer perfect, no longer worth the time that allowed them to exist. He’s not allowed that frivolous luxury, so unlike them, he appreciates every single one that he’s given. In fact, he’s better off than them because each moment for him is perfect. How could it not be? He’s alive, he’s well, well-off, and enjoying himself. What more could he ask for? So he doesn’t. He can’t.
Instead, he sits silently, and watches others as they ask for more and take it for granted when they get it. It’s all so fickle, and it’s something they will always forget.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
And among that forgetfulness, they remain unbothered. Not only to notice the perfect moments, but also the dangerous ones, like now. Unbeknownst to them, out in the open, a jackal watches. One whose stomach hasn’t expanded since birth and knows nothing of feeling enough; it’s only ever felt deprived of what it can’t have. The dreams he’s had.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
The vivid dreams that pass well enough for reality, the dreams of doing so much more than stalking. Ones where he’d finally give chase, where he’s heard and he’s forced to give chase; however, it’s on purpose. He wants to run, to feel his heart banging in his chest as he leaps and digs his teeth into the bare flesh. He could finally feel the warm, thick sweetness that he’s longing for.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
He forces himself to keep it at bay, while they are allowed to act on whatever impulse they have and then immediately forget about it. He’s forced to keep his behind a closed door that continues to grow thinner and thinner.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
His stranger. He’s the one there, watching, waiting for Niro to open the door.
Even though he could walk right through, he waits just tap, tap, tapping. Each day, each day, each day, Niro’s forced to hold back this door… for them. Hold back his urges… for them. Hold back who he really is--
Tap—
No, no, no, no. That’s not him, that’s the stranger. He’s been taught better. He knows what the stranger puts in his head is wrong. It’s why he’s kept the door on the stranger shut. He knows what the stranger wants. He’s seen when the stranger acts upon his urges… it’s one of those memories you force yourself to forget but will always remember vividly.
Niro and his grandfather walked in silence through the woods that surrounded the lake. For twenty minutes, nothing was said. Niro thought his grandfather was upset with him, mainly because his face no longer had the smile Niro had become so accustomed to seeing his entire life. Instead, his face was blank, expressionless.
His grandfather came to a stop and finally spoke, “Listen, son, I know what you feel. I’ve known for a good while and I’m sorry I never said anything before.”
Niro was thrown off, “What are you talking about? I’m fine, really, I don’t know what mom told you—”
“No. I didn’t hear it from your mom, son... To be frank, I don’t hear anything about you from her,” His grandfather said calmly.
Oh. I guess that makes sense. His chest was hollowed.
His grandfather continued, “I’m going based on what I’ve seen and what I know. I know you’re not fine.”
Niro remained silent. He had never discussed with anyone what he’s feeling or lack thereof.
His mom never talked with him about his personal issues and his dad left before he had the chance to even attempt it. Maybe his grandfather has the answer to why he’s different, “I think a lot… a lot about people and what I want to do to them; but everyone thinks about that.”
“It depends on what it is you’re thinking about doing to them. So, tell me, what do you think about doing to them?” His grandfather said with assurance.
Niro continued, “It’s different for different people. If a person talks too much, I imagine someone cutting their tongues out, then — tying them down — taking a needle, one sharp enough to slowly sew their mouths shut.”
His grandfather said nothing in response, so he went on,“If a person looks at me and they have disgusting judging eyes, I imagine someone gouging those eyes out…”
Niro’s train of thought came to a pause, worried he’d said too much.
Both of them sat in silence. It was only a few seconds, but felt like hours to Niro.
“You said someone is doing all of this.” His grandfather’s gaze was directly on him. Niro would not meet it, but he knew it was there “that someone is you, isn’t it?” his grandfather asked, just to be sure.
“... yes… It’s only ever been in my head; it was just my imagination, it wasn’t real, but when I actually say it… That’s what’s wrong with me. I’m a monster,” Niro said, worried that the man he had always looked up to would see him for what he saw in himself.
“No. No, you’re not a monster, son… You’re just too much like me,” Niro looked up at his grandfather and, as always, he was holding out his hand with a reassuring, helpful smile.
Niro grabbed hold of it and was pulled up, “I needed to wait until you were old enough, old enough so that you could understand. Come on, stay close and follow me.”
As they continued onward, it was silent between them once again. They walked farther, further into the woods than Niro had ever been. It became darker, as if light wasn’t allowed. It was thicker with trees and brush, more difficult to traverse, as if the vines and branches were grabbing hold, trying to warn him not to go further.
If you didn’t know your way around, you could disappear. He didn’t know where his grandfather was taking him, but he was sure he could trust him… You’re just too much like me.
The thickness of the forest lightened, and the air turned cold. Up ahead, in the only opening they had seen, sat a dilapidated shed, slowly falling apart from years of being in the elements. Niro didn’t want to go any farther, but his grandfather urged him, “C’mon, son, it’s just over there. There’s something I need you to see.”
As he entered the open area, the coldness ran deep into Niro’s blood… he didn’t want to see what was inside that shed.
His grandfather had gone silent again. He stood in front of the shed, staring at it, gently placing his hand on the door.
Something was different about him. It wasn’t just his odd actions, but physical movement as well. The man, his grandfather, who Niro had entered the forest with, was gone; whoever was standing in front of him was a stranger.
“I wanna leave now. Can we please go back?” Niro pleaded. He was careful with his tone and took steady paces away from this stranger.
“Boy, there’s no going back. Not now,” the stranger slowly turned and walked towards Niro.
Niro was petrified. His legs couldn’t stop shaking. Finally, the stranger stood there, towering over Niro. In a moment of animalistic reaction, Niro threw a punch that the man easily grabbed hold of. He gripped Niro’s wrist tightly, capable of snapping it. Niro screamed in pain, but there was nothing on the stranger’s face that showed remorse. Niro tried his best to break free. He truly did, but there was nothing he could do. The stranger balled his other hand into a fist and that was that. Everything after was black for Niro.
Muffled cries. That’s all he could hear. He awoke to the sound of muffled cries. His hands bound tightly, so much so that the rope was breaking the skin. He didn’t want to open his eyes, but knew he had to. Slowly, one eye opened, his other was forced to stay shut. His face’s left side hurt badly. Carefully, he lifted his head and looked around. He was inside the shed and he wasn’t alone.
Alongside him, gagged and tied up, were a young man and woman, both with swollen faces. He assumed they were a couple because they could only look at one another. Neither paid much attention to Niro.
The inside of the shed was worse than the outside. While the horrors of nature shaped the outside, the horrors of one man shaped what was in it. It was his work station. Bits of blood were spattered in different spots, the room was marked with scratches. Each one had bits of blood, fingernails, and skin deep in the grooves. Niro then saw what he could only describe as mementos, with his limited sight he counted 20. There were definitely more. He wondered if he would become one as well. As that thought crossed his mind, the stranger entered the shed.
The stranger held a hunting knife. He stood in the doorway, staring. Starting with the woman, he looked at each person for two minutes. Afterwards, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths, in and out, in and out, as if he was meditating. Finally, he opened his eyes and slowly moved towards the young woman.
Her screams hurt, her vocal cords had to be on edge, shredding. The stranger grabbed her, tied her wrists and twisted them so he could see her forearms. The stranger pressed the tip of his knife into her skin. He then whispered, “You are not the first. You are not the last. You are just one.”
He allowed the knife to ever so slowly glide down to her wrist. Niro looked up at the stranger, catching his eyes for the first time. He didn’t see malice, passion, or lust. The eyes were serene. Niro wondered if he ever did this. Would he feel this serene?
Then, his eye looked over and met both of hers. They were hazel. He saw the tradeoff for that serene feeling. Her eyes were not serene; tears and terror filled them.
In one swoop, she will be gone, taken away from her friends and family. All that will be left is darkness. The last thing she will see is a dark, disgusting shed with people once like her: her lover who cries and screams along with her, her killer with the peacefulness of a monk, and some boy who only has one working eye. She looked into his eye for a moment, longer than he had expected. Later on he would wonder to himself; what did she see in his eye?
Once the stranger had opened each arm, he laid her on the ground with care; he made sure she was facing the man. Before her blood ran dry, she took one last look at the man as he struggled and screamed beside her. She muffled something. Perhaps it was a last statement of love to him; but Niro never knew for sure. Finally, she closed her eyes.
The stranger stood up and did not move. Niro took this opportunity to move around slightly to see how tight the constraints on his wrist and ankles were; extremely so. Ironic, he knows what knot was used because his grandfather taught it to him. There was no getting out of this. He was in line to die.
The stranger moved to the man. Struggle as he did, there was nothing he could do. He knew he was going to die, but he wanted to struggle to the end. Niro was frozen watching this unfold. He could only watch and wait his turn. The stranger grabbed the struggler by the shoulders and lifted him off the ground, “You’re trying so hard, I respect that. Go on, run. I’ll give you a minute head start. Make the best of it, because as soon as it hits 60 seconds; I’m coming after you.”
The stranger let go and the moment he did; the struggler collapsed. He could not stand on his own. He writhed in agony on the ground as the stranger stood above, letting out a hearty chuckle, “I’m so sorry, silly me, I completely forgot, I cut both of your achilles tendons. Shame. I wanted a chase… Tsk. No worries, we’ll make do.”
Once again he took hold of the struggler and lifted him to his knees, inching him closer to Niro. More muffled screams came from him, “Shush, shush, shush, stop. Just stop. I admire your fight, but there’s no more reason for it. It’s over.” he then brought the knife to the struggler’s throat and in one quick motion he sliced it.
Warm blood spattered onto Niro’s face. To this day, he can feel that warm blood on his face. It was his turn, his turn to die, and he couldn’t understand what he was feeling in his last moments; it was all jumbled together.
The stranger took the knife and placed it under Niro's chin, lifting it up so that he could look him in the eye, “Now, son, what do you feel?”
Fear? Possibly. His hands were shaking, his heart was beating faster and faster, and his skin was becoming hot and itchy. Excitement? Yes. He was curious as to what the stranger would do to him. He did something special for those two. Would he get the same treatment? As the knife sat under his chin, Niro’s feelings whirled around more and more. He remembered her eyes. Were his also filled with terror and tears?
Niro muffled something. Unable to understand, the stranger took off the gag.
“One more time,” The knife was piercing his skin.
Niro tried to take a moment before he said anything again. He thought about his words. They could be his last, but that moment was quickly interrupted, “No! No thinking about it.”
The stranger pushed the knife in deeper, “I want your gut emotion. Tell me, what do you feel right now?”
Meekly, Niro let it out, “I… I don’t wanna die.”
Silence sat in the room. The smell of the two dead bodies permeated the shed. The stranger removed the knife from his chin and cut him loose, “That’s not a bad answer.”
When Niro looked up again, the stranger was gone and in his place was his grandfather, once again with his reassuring smile and hand held out to him, “Remember that feeling. Remember the look in both of their eyes.” which Niro grabbed hold of.
They left the shed and walked outside. Niro’s grandfather was ahead of him while he struggled to even stand, let alone follow. He dropped onto the grass; the surrounding air was heavy, everything was heavy. Niro vomited until there was nothing in his stomach. It was just painful to keep retching.
His grandfather turned and rushed over to him, “Woah, it’s okay, just let it all out. People think people like us are just stoic monsters who can’t wait to see life disappear.
“Yet, seeing death for the first time always gets to you in one way or another. I did the same, the first time.” He continued patting Niro on the back.
“You okay, buddy?” His grandfather asked in such a lighthearted and caring tone that confused Niro whether what he just experienced had even happened. How could his grandfather just switch it back? After putting him through such torment, how could he just ask so cavalierly? Are you okay?
With rage and tears, he screamed at his grandfather, “Am I okay?! Y- you just killed those people, like- like- like it was nothing! I don’t — why?! Why did you do that to me? Monster! — That thing wasn’t you, it was a monster! Is that what you’re doing? Are you trying to make me a monster like you?” Niro punched at his grandfather, hitting him in his chest and chin.
His Grandfather allowed him to continue punching at him while he did his best to explain his actions. “Remember what I said? You’re already like me. I never wanted you to be, but that’s the way it is.”
Niro felt his mind cracking. “I’m not. I wouldn’t do that, it was--”
“Niro. This isn’t about what you would do right now, it’s about what you will do, one day, unless I help you control it. You told me what you imagined doing to people, kids your age don’t imagine that.
“Right now, it’s just in your head, but soon you’ll want more than fantasies, so you’ll move on to bugs. Animals too, if you haven’t already,” Niro’s punches stopped.
Niro remained silent. His grandfather continued, “I thought- I knew the best thing was to teach you to control the urges you have. Hold back that other side of yourself. The only way I knew how was to put you in the position of a victim. See from their perspective, understand what they feel, see, go through before they die.
“I wanted you to see what it was like to have some figure you don’t recognize take everything that you are away from you in an instant. Maybe, if you understood that, you would have enough… ‘compassion’ to never go through with it and put someone in the same position you were once in.”
His grandfather took hold of Niro tightly. “It’s too late for me. Soon enough, I will get caught. Even though I know that, I don’t care. I can’t stop. I can’t control myself, but you can. Let me help you.” It sounded like a plea to Niro.
Niro slumped, falling to the ground once again. “I don’t want to hurt anyone… but… I saw your eyes. You looked happy... ”
“Don’t remember my eyes, remember hers. Remember what I had to do to her to gain that small sense of… feeling. That feeling is already gone,” Niro thought back, back to her last moments where all he could see on her face, in her eyes; pure terror.
His grandfather helped him up, “When we get back, you’re moving in with your grandmother and me. Sadly, I know your mom won’t mind. Also, we’re going to get you some damn hobbies and put you on a routine. It will help keep your mind right. Now, before it gets dark, we should go. It’s hard to walk around these woods when it gets late.”
His grandfather continued helping him walk until Niro was finally able to do it on his own. Niro continued to hold on to the back of his grandfather’s shirt as they walked back into the woods.
“Who…” Niro began to ask quietly.
“What was that?” his grandfather asked.
“Nothing...” Niro said no more. Letting go of his grandfather's shirt, both continued on their way out of the woods.
After the shed, after the walk back, after everything that happened, Niro would always have the same question in the back of his mind. Who was his grandfather, really? Was the man he loved and respected just a figment created so that the Stranger he met in the cabin that day could move around as free as possible? Or was it all just him?
Niro’s grandfather taught him to keep the door shut. Knowing why is how he’s been able to go so long keeping it that way. He can hold it together. No one owes him anything. He’s just more burdened than others, but he’s able to handle that burden. Niro picks his book back up and finishes the rest of its short stories, enjoying both them and the rest of his time in the park, with no further issues. In fact, the rest of his day was wonderful, a better one than he had in a long time.
Everything was now falling back into place. Niro remembered his reasons for holding it all together, and just so long as his structure doesn’t collapse, neither will he.
After stopping at the store for a bottle of Rose Vinho Verde and ingredients for pasta aglio e olio, he headed home for the day. Once inside the building, he ran into Jack again. Jack had a smile on his face that differed from the confused expression from before.
“Jack? Oh my god, I was worried I wouldn’t see you again.” As the words left his mouth, Niro was surprised to find they were true.
“Bickle! It’s actually funny you say that. It lines up with th’ fantastic news I’ve got for ya,” he says with all of his not so straight teeth showing.
“Wait — before that, I just want to apologize for the other morning. It’s been a… it’s been a tough week for me. However, that’s no excuse. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you like that,” Niro says this as genuinely as he knows how.
Jack lightly elbows Niro in the shoulder. “Heh, I’ll admit, I was a bit put off, but, y’know, death does different things for all of us. Even if it’s not someone close, it can bring up memories. No need t’ worry ‘bout it, because like I said, I’ve got good news. I’m retirin’.”
Tap.
“... what? W-why, what about Lillian? You can’t afford to just retire now, don’t be stupid Jack.” a hint of desperation cracks out of his voice.
Jack throws his arm around Niro. “I talked with Lillian and turns out, she’d been putin’ a good amount away in a cookie jar over th’ years. She decided she just wanted t’ spend her final year travelin’ about with me, like when we were young. Frankly, I’m just a janitor… once it’s… over, I can get another job bein’ just a janitor anywhere.”
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Niro moves away from Jack. “But what — what about our talks? I need them. I really need them, so you can’t just up and leave so suddenly.”
Abandoned once again.
“Ah, you’re buildin’ me up too much. You were fine b’fore me, you’ll be fine after.” Jack grabs hold of Niro and brings him in tightly. “I’ve always appreciated how kind you’ve been t’ me. Most people here barely give me a glance, yet you’ve become a good friend. Thank you, I’m really gonna miss you Bickle.”
Performance 0/10.
He’s truly going to miss Niro.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. tap.
Niro returns Jack's embrace, “No, thank you, I’m going to miss you too, Jack.”
Performance 0/10.
The door opens.
