Eyes Open

It took Nate a while to start speaking. Troy sat as patiently as he could, even though every fibre of his being was itching to know why Nate was so freaked out. He clearly knew something – did he know what the figure was? Was it wanted? Where it came from? Or – and Troy didn’t really want to consider this prospect – had he somehow seem something completely different? Troy was desperate to know what he was up against, and it was taking all of his inner strength to not start shaking Nate.

His friend was currently chewing on the skin of his thumb, as he always did when he was worried or otherwise preoccupied. Every so often, he looked as though he were about to say something, but every time, he turned it into something else, like a sigh or a deep breath, and continued chewing on his thumb. Eventually, he broke the silence with a blunt comment that didn’t help Troy’s heightening nerves in the slightest.

"Why didn’t you tell someone you were seeing ... him?" he asked softly.

"I didn’t even know if he was real," Troy replied. "What’s going on, Nate? You can’t keep me hanging like this. Do you know something? Do you know what he wants?"

"No, I don’t know," Nate said, and all of a sudden he sounded rather short. "I thought I’d gotten rid of the fucker."

"You can get rid of him?"

"Clearly not," Nate sighed. "How long have you been seeing him for?"

"A couple of weeks," Troy shrugged. "About that, anyway. I can’t really be one hundred per cent certain – the first time was when I was having that really bad bout of insomnia, and time tends to blend into itself when that happens to me."

"Have you seen him off camera?"

"Yeah."

"How many times?"

"Too many to count," Troy said, his replies getting slightly annoyed in tone. "Look, Nate. Are you going to explain? First of all, are we talking about the same thing?"

"Tall, faceless, suited?" Nate asked, looking slightly paler than usual. "Weird, out of proportion limbs? Always gives the appearance that he’s staring at you even though he appears to have no eyes?"

Troy blinked, and then sighed.

"That’s him," he muttered. "How do you know, Nate? Do you see him too?"

"Not recently," Nate said, and he gave a deep sigh. "But I used to see him. I used to see him so much."

"How long ago?"

"Ages," Nate muttered, running his hands through his hair again. "When I was a child. He used to scare me so much, but my mom and dad always put it down to nightmares or my imagination. The first time I saw him, I was four. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was playing in the park, and my parents usually let me in there by myself because they could see it from where they were sitting in the living room. So I was messing around, and I climbed to the top of the slide and was about to go down it when this really tall guy in a suit was suddenly standing next to me, face-to-face even though I was on top of this really tall slide. I was little, so I just asked him who he was. He didn’t say anything, but I got really scared, slid down the slide and ran into the house. I tried to tell my parents, but obviously, there was no sign of him. He simply vanished."

"Wow," Troy muttered. He look a closer look at his best friend. The other man was trembling slightly, and looked genuinely afraid of these memories that were coming back to him.

"After that, he would come to my window at night," Nate shuddered. "I would hear him tapping on the glass and see his shadow moving around on the other side of the curtains. I always called for mom and dad, but they thought again, it was over active imagination and dreams. I knew he was there, though. Even at that age, I knew that this was different to dreams. Dreams went away in the morning – he didn’t."

"How old were you when you stopped seeing him?" Troy asked tentatively, worried that Nate was going to really freak out at any moment.

"Around eight years old," Nate said.

"That’s the age you met me. The age you moved at."

"Yeah. He didn’t move with us. I never saw him again after that, but boy, did I dream about him. Even in perfectly normal, happy, chilled out dreams, every so often, he would just be there, staring at me from a distance, observing me like I were some zoo animal. I still dream about him now, sometimes. But seeing that footage ... Jesus Christ. He’s real, isn’t he?"

There was a long pause as the two friends thought about what they had just witnessed. Troy was in an even more worried state now. He didn’t know how he felt about the whole situation. On one hand, if Nate hadn’t seen the creature and Troy had turned out to be suffering from a mental disorder, at least he could have gone to the doctor’s and received help. This was something a lot more sinister – now he had to acknowledge the fact that maybe, just maybe, something supernatural was occurring.

"I never believed in stuff like this, you know," Troy eventually said. His voice sounded strange in the heavy silence.

"Stuff like what, exactly?" Nate replied.

"This," Troy sighed. "Weird stuff, supernatural stuff, the paranormal. Sure, it’s interesting to think about, interesting to learn about, but I never actually thought that it was real. This ... this is something else. What do you think it is?"

"If I knew that I would have got rid of the bastard by now," Nate muttered. "I thought I would never see him again. I don’t know what he wants. He never did anything to be aside from watch – even in my dreams, he would just stand there and watch me. I don’t know what he’s there for. Perhaps he’s just a subconscious thing? I considered that he might be guilt or even death at one point, but nothing seemed to add up. He’s just there."

"So basically, we don’t know what he wants, we don’t know what he does, and there’s no way we can get rid of him?" Troy asked. "Fucking fantastic."

"Did you see him when you were younger?" Nate asked.

"No. Not that I can remember, anyway," Troy sighed. "I might phone my mom, see if I can go round and speak to her. You never know – it might be a clue if I did see him when I was younger. Although from what I can remember, I never saw him when I was awake, and I didn’t dream about him, either. If I had, even if I had repressed the memories, surely I would have recognized him when I saw him the first time?"

"I don’t know anymore," Nate replied, shaking his head slowly. "With this ... whatever he is, I really don’t know. I don’t know anything about him, I don’t know how he works or what he wants. How do we know he’s not some mind manipulator as well? For all we know we could have just seen him and he could have just made us forget."

"Don’t," Troy muttered, and he rubbed his forehead with his hand. He was beginning to get a headache and he was sure that it was to do with all of this thinking and stressing. The last thing he wanted was to have Nate telling him all sorts of things that would freak him out further.

"I can’t help it," Nate muttered. "I don’t know what to think. It seems anything could be possible after what I just saw."

"Well, try not to freak me out any more than I already am, because that won’t get me anywhere," Troy said, standing up. "I’m going to go and ring my mom. I need to have a word with her about all this – like you said, there could be a chance I saw him when I was younger."

Nate nodded, but didn’t reply. He seemed preoccupied, and so Troy just left him in the living room, with his own thoughts, for a while. He walked through the dining room and kitchen and into the hallway, remembering the last time that he had been on the phone to his mother. The tall man had appeared, which hadn’t been pleasant. Now that Troy knew about Nate seeing him too, he wasn’t sure whether to feel comforted or even more terrified.

The phone rang for a while before his mother picked up. Mrs. DeLage sounded worried, as she usually did when Troy rang her. Troy knew she hadn’t bought his story that the phone had broken on him when he had dropped it the other day. He knew that she knew something was terribly long, and she was just trying to get it out of him. Troy guessed she would get her wish today.

"Hi, Mom," Troy said, as she picked up. "You busy today?"

"No, not at all," she told her son. "What’s wrong, Troy? You sound strange again."

"I need to come round and speak to you and Dad about something," Troy said. "Don’t worry, though," headed quickly, knowing his mother’s brain would instantly start thinking about all of the worst possible cases.

"Why?" she asked. "Of course I’m going to worry, Troy! Something’s wrong, I’m your mother, I know that much. Are you ill? Is it bad? You’re not hurt, are you?"

"No, Mom, it’s nothing like that. I just want to ask you some questions, that’s all. I’ll tell you later. Can I come round if you’re not busy?"

Mrs. DeLage sighed.

"If I’m going to finally get what’s bothering you out of you, then you can come round right away."

Nate was just coming into the kitchen as Troy hung the phone up.

"Can you go around?" he asked.

"Yeah," Troy said. "What are you up to? Are you all right?"

"I’m fine," Nate shrugged. "Just a little freaked out, that’s all. But I guess that’s understandable. I’m going to head home and try and think things through a little more."

Troy nodded – that was typical of his friend. He was always the logical one, always the one who would take the time to analyse things thoroughly before he started getting freaked out.

"Keep in touch, yeah?" Troy told his friend, as they made their way to the front door together.

"I will, and you do as well," Nate promised. "We’ll get to the bottom of this, man. There has to be some explanation."

"I hope so," Troy nodded.

He waited until Nate had backed out of the drive and, with a wave, driven away down the street. Trying not to focus upon the numerous places that he had seen the tall man, Troy checked and double-checked that the door was locked and then went to his own car, getting in and locking the doors immediately behind him. He paused for a brief few seconds before he started the engine, looking up at his house, mainly at his bedroom window. He didn’t know why locking the house still made him feel protected, because he knew now that the tall man clearly didn’t need doors to get into buildings – walls seemed like they were invisible to him. However, Troy guessed that it was just an old habit that wouldn’t die. Sighing, and still half expecting to see the tall man staring at him from the window of his own house, he put his car into reverse and backed out of the drive.

He drove below the speed limit all the way to his parent’s house, which was highly unusual for him. Troy usually drive grudgingly at the speed limit, or else above it when he knew he could get away with it. However, he was so preoccupied today that he knew driving quickly would be a hazard to both himself and others, and so he kept it slow, not caring if he was annoying people behind him.

The house he pulled up outside half an hour later was the home he had been born and raised in. Even seeing it calmed him slightly – this was the house where there were nothing but fond memories. He parked the car on the drive and walked up the path that his father had lovingly built through the beautifully manicured lawn, and gave a knock on the door before letting himself in.

"Mom, Dad!" he called. "It’s just me!"

"In the living room, Troy!" his father replied, and Troy darted through the kitchen, petting the dog, Sandy, on her head as she did so. She jumped up, wagging her tail, and followed him into the living room. She sat at his feet, with her head in his lap, as he sat down on one of the armchairs.

"I don’t know why she’s so obedient with you," Mrs. DeLage laughed. "If it were me or your father, she would be all over that chair by now."

"She loves me too much," Troy smiled, scratching her head.

"Anyway, what was it you needed to speak about?"

Troy knew that his mother would be too worried to let him beat around the bush for long, and so he took a deep breath, and prepared to tell his story without appearing completely insane.