Chapter Text
Tim had fallen into such a deep depression it had slowly smothered his other symptoms of mental illness. His hallucinations were hazy figures he could easily ignore, his migraines had dulled into a constant ache, he hadn't had a seizure in months, and he couldn't remember the last time he had a blackout. It should have been a miracle. But instead, Tim was considering suicide more than he ever had before. No one noticed, at least not in a way that mattered. If anything his boss loved it. Tim had no desire to be alone and no one to fill his free time so six days out of the week he was at work. The one day he had off was for his weekly therapist appointments. They were aware of the state he was in and trying to workshop a way out of it. For months nothing had changed.
The only thing keeping Tim from killing himself was Penny.
In the small window of time between his normal harmful behavior lulling, and his current depression, he had been encouraged to get a dog. She was a black Shiba Inu that had flunked out of service dog training. Tim had no idea why, she did an excellent job in his eyes. When he heard of her failing he adopted her almost instantly. Not only did she keep him from killing himself but it forced the floor of his house to stay uncluttered. Anything she could reach she would eat, so all the dirty dishes and trash remained above Penny-level. He had considered getting an automatic feeder and water jug so he could justify forgetting about her for a few weeks but couldn't bring himself to do it.
Every day after work Tim came home and sat in the back yard with Penny just long enough for him to smoke a cigarette. Sometimes he would toss a ball for her or hold onto a rope-chew as she tugged on it. Once the cigarette was done he fed her and went straight to bed, which was often before 7pm. He only ran his laundry when coworkers began complaining about how dirty he was. The same rule applied to him showering, and how often he brushed his teeth. He ate fast food for lunch at work and sometimes came home with a pack of beer. After his therapist appointments he always had a small boost of morale that went towards a single chore. Sometimes it was walking Penny, getting enough groceries for one meal, or the very rare shower. Once the single task was done he was exhausted and slept until work the next day.
It was bad enough that when Tim started feeling things were going wrong in his home, and his mind, he was almost excited about it. They started small at first. He would discover all his laundry clean in the dryer and assume he ran it before going to bed. The same went for his dishwasher, or a refill of Penny's food. Lost time was one of the few things Tim had that was a stable part of his life so the idea he was doing these things and forgetting didn't even concern him. Over time the changes got bigger. The lawn would be mowed, his bed would be cleaned and made, his trash was by the curb when he got home from work - but his pay stubs showed he was still working the same hours as always.
It wasn't until he began losing his medication that he felt the need to talk to his therapist. A few pills shorter than normal was nothing he couldn't handle, he had backups everywhere, but then those began to go missing. When he told this all to Dr. Blackwood he was basically ignored. To know he was cleaning was seen as an improvement in his mental health. The fact he couldn't remember it was fairly normal for him and if it that was the only symptom then they saw no cause for concern. Tim could be doing anything while unconscious, cleaning his house was the best possible outcome. He was assured it was a sign something inside of him was motivated to get better. Besides those encouraging words, and an increase in his dosage, he was given nothing of value and was sent home like normal.
Tim wanted to believe that that was what was happening. The version of him that was conscious was still exhausted, even with the motivation provided by his therapist. Tim had no friends to confide in and he had been without a family for most of his life. His routine at home didn't change. He remained in the same cycle with the hope things would get better.
The thought that someone had been breaking in to clean never crossed his mind. It was an insane idea to begin with, and he had no one in his life that would do such a thing. Tim didn't think of other people much at all anymore besides his generalized negative idea of "the public" which was a byproduct of his ever growing agoraphobia. He only realized an intruder was a possibility when he was kneeling on the hardwood floor after work.
He had just came home and was petting on Penny when he noticed the floor under them was much cleaner than he left it. When he got closer he could instantly smell the Pinsol rising from it. Tim had been scanning the floor, admiring what he thought was his own work, when he saw a dull boot print further into the home. He hadn't walked that far into the living room yet. He quickly assumed he had just mopped with his work boots on while in his normal fugue state. That didn't explain why the tread was one he didn't recognize. Slowly, he rose back to his feet and stepped into the boot print to make sure it would match the size of his own shoes. It was at least two sizes bigger. Instantly Tim's heart dropped.
"Penny? Go greet them. Go. Go greet them." Tim murmured to his dog.
It was a great command for someone with schizophrenia. If his paranoia was starting to win, or he couldn't identify something as a hallucination, he could send Penny after them. If nothing was there then she'd look around confused before sitting down by his feet. Which was exactly what she did now. "You sure? No one in the house to greet?" He encouraged her in a hushed voice as his eyes scanned over the rooms. She didn't budge. With a sigh he turned his focus back down to her and used both hands to pet either side of her head. "Good Girl. Good job, Angel."
Tim wasn't sure what to make of the print he saw. He checked the whole house just to be safe and found nothing else, so he was forced to continue with the rest of his day as usual. While laying in bed, he stewed over what it might have meant before eventually drifting to sleep. Stranger things had happened. He had forgotten about it until something similar happened just a few days later after one of his rare showers. The mirror in his bathroom was a medicine cabinet so he often grabbed the corner of it to reach his medication and shaving razor. It left a greasy mark where condensation couldn't form. When he stepped out of his shower the spot was much bigger than normal. A clear outline was visible of a hand fully covering his normal smudges.
Tim stared at his reflection through the fog-free spot.
He couldn't call the police. First of all, there wasn't enough evidence here to prove anything; secondly, fuck the cops; and thirdly, he had a bad record with them anyway. Muttering about ghost hand prints and footprints while wearing nothing but a towel was not a proud way to be admitted to the psych ward. He could tell his therapist about what was happening but given their past reactions he had a feeling they'd brush this off. The hand print could be his own, except somehow smudged and dragged out. The same could be said for the shoe print. Only Tim knew that wasn't the case and he was the least trustworthy person in this situation. He would just have to keep living.
It had unsettled him enough he wasn't comfortable rotting in bed right after his shower. Instead, he would gather Penny in his arms and they'd watch TV in the living room. When he needed comfort, which was more often than not, he would put on the Oldies Channel. It was nothing but black and white movies back to back. The ones Tim had seen a million times before became a memory game as he muttered every line spoken under his breath. He laid down on his couch with one arm around Penny and the other behind his head, giving extra support on top of the hard arm rest.
It was late by the time he realized he hadn't turned on any lights in the house. The sun had set and the only light was the soft circle of blue coming from the TV. With Penny on his chest he had no desire to get up and run through the home turning them all on. Just the thought of going through the dark hall to his bedroom gave him goosebumps. Instead he would settle further into the couch and let himself fall asleep.
When Tim woke, it was an instant rise to consciousness. He was fully aware of himself in half a second, but he couldn't move or breathe. His eyelids had twitched open just enough for him to stare through his eyelashes. He experienced sleep paralysis regularly and it always scared him. The TV broadcast had ended for the night and switched itself over to static. His head was still aimed near the screen.
Outlined against it was the figure of a person, dark and featureless. Normally sleep paralysis hallucinations were the most hazy and fluid, but this was a clear, crisp image. As it came closer to him Penny's head rose off of Tim's chest and stared directly up at the figure. It couldn't have been coincidence. Tim didn't know which he wanted more, to scream or to take in a huge gasp of air. The figure bowed its hooded head to stare directly at him before it slowly slid to focus on Penny. Tim could vaguely see her ears twitch back as it pet the top of her head. At first Tim thought the hands were wrong, melted or blobby, but as he saw them move right past his face he realized the person was just wearing gloves. They pulled a treat from its pocket and gave it to Penny. She ate it up without hesitation, causing a few crumbs to fall on Tim's chest. His starvation for air had begun to burn and he felt the deep twitching of his diaphragm trying desperately to restart. The figure began to back away. It reached the front door and opened it, temporarily flooded the living room with orange light from the lamp post outside. Silhouetted against the glow, it turned around to face Tim. Its hand rose in a little wave before it backed out of the home and the door shut.
The second the door clicked shut Tim regained control of his body. He wheezed in a harsh gasp that instantly sent him into a hacking fit. Penny was thrown off of him as his body lurched and he clawed his shirt. He ended up rolling off the couch and nearly landed on her as he gasped and dry heaved. She whined and pranced around him with worry, knowing she should be doing something but not entirely sure what.
Before he had fully caught his breath Tim pushed himself up to his feet and staggered towards the door. He threw it open and stumbled onto his porch but whoever had been there was long gone now. The crumbs that had fallen on him were lost in the couch and no new shoe prints had been left on the floor. He would check for both. Tim's grasp on reality was never solid but he knew that wasn't a hallucination.
The next day at work he debated whether or not he would talk about this in therapy, but it wouldn't take too long before he decided to keep this to himself. There wasn't enough evidence yet. If he wanted something done about this he would have to do it himself. By the time he got off work he had a plan. The moment he stepped inside he reached for the baseball bat by the door. It was small and metal, just something he had gotten from a yard sale, and so far had been left untouched. Once Penny had rushed up to celebrate his return he told her to greet whoever was inside. She sat down, unable to greet people who weren't there. Just to be safe he would storm through every room and check every closet with the bat over his shoulder.
Tim wasn't weak. He had taken a day job working construction. While he wasn't always out pouring concrete - some days were easier and he was inside nailing drywall or laying wiring - that didn't change the fact it was a blue collar job. A job he did six days a week, no less. He was a man more than capable of defending himself.
Once he knew his house was free from intruders, he took a second to check if anything was changed. All he found that day was the dish washer had been run. He had grown so used to the little cleaning sprees he hadn't stopped to consider how common they were. As of recent they had been almost every day. He sat the bat back in its place by the door and whistled for Penny. He was going to take her to the hardware store so Tim could buy a new lock for every door and for any windows who's previous locks were starting to look a little loose. The house he rented was older, so not everything was up to code, and he figured his landlord wouldn't mind the alterations if they were upgrades. Until he asked, he didn't need to know.
It didn't occur till the sun was setting that Tim had actually done something after work and stayed up past 7pm. He had gone around to turn on some of the lights when he realized it was 9pm. He didn't even feel tired. If this Mystery Man's goal was some perverted form of help, it was working, and Tim hated that. Tonight, he couldn't bring himself to sit in the living room and watch TV, and instead sat in his bedroom while he read a secondhand romance novel - another guilty pleasure of his. He hoped sleeping back in his usual spot would keep him from having sleep paralysis again. He also didn't want to be so close to the front door.
His bedroom window was one of the few that needed a new lock. Every time he glanced at the nice secure replacement, a wave of relief went over him. No more cleaning, no more breaking in, no more...watching him sleep, maybe...Or giving Penny treats. He had gently scolded her for taking candy from strangers but she just stared back up at him with a guiltless expression. He didn't doubt she'd do it again if given the chance.
When Tim did go to bed it was just past 10pm, a new record for him these past few months. He had exhausted himself trying to focus on the fine print of his book but as he got closer to actually turning the lights off, his anxiety grew. The comfort that had come from seeing his home clean and taken care of had now switched into dread. Every item dusted or washed had been something touched by a stranger. Just as he worked himself into a panic about it he began to fight his own mind. Maybe Tim was just being paranoid. Maybe last night was just a vivid nightmare.
Still he went to bed uneasy and slept lighter than normal. Even when decaying in bed depressed he would disassociate and his mind would float somewhere else, leaving his body unresponsive to the world around him. Tim's sleep was fitful and he would twitch awake more than once before it drew close to early morning. Through dreamless sleep he heard a light thunk that drew his attention. Wood on wood clunking somewhere deep in his home. The rest of his body stayed still while his eyes lifted open. He found himself staring down at his open bedroom door and past Penny, who was curled up near his feet.
It could have been nothing. Auditory hallucinations were common for him and one he used to have nightly was the sound of someone moving around in his home. He thought of this, and the metal bat he left near his front door. He should have brought it into the bedroom with him. The sound didn't reoccur, and after a few moments of silence he let his eyelids slowly began to fall. Then there was a flicker of movement in the doorway, and his entire body froze. Through his eyelashes, he could just barely see a shadow growing closer down the hall.
Silently, a man appeared in the doorway. The only light Tim had to see with was the small nightlight he placed in the hall. He felt like he should have seen some details of the stranger's face but it was just a black void wrapped up in the hood of his hoodie. The hoodie itself was light in color, tan or maybe yellow. He was in a faded pair of work jeans and was wearing loose fitting, navy blue gloves. Tim waited for Penny to react but she never did. The man's head tilted from side to side as he stared at Tim from the doorway. Tim was wondering if the figure could tell he was awake, when the realization hit him that he was holding his breath. He let out his trapped sigh before taking in a snort-y breath, hopefully mimicking the way he snored. He could see the stranger's shoulders relax when he heard it.
If this was a hallucination it was out of character. Normally if he saw anything resembling people they were stretched out of proportion, warped and featureless. That or they were blood smeared strangers he'd find laying dead on his floor. Those were the worst because they were realistic, and the only way Tim could get them to go away was attempting to grab onto them. Doing so would push his hand right through where it should have met skin, and the vision would leave as if it had never been there. Once he had found a vision of himself laid face up in the bathroom with an empty pill bottle on the floor besides him. That one had left a scar on his mind - a scar that reopened every time he dumped too many pills into his palm.
Penny's lack of reaction and Tim's own uncertainty kept him still, even as the man moved closer to his bed. His footsteps made no sound, another implication that this could be in his head. Tim attempted to follow him without his eyelids twitching too far open. Again he drug in a slow breath and let it out through the back of his throat so it caught and stuttered. Doing so gave him the slight urge to cough.
God, not now! Anytime but now!
His attention was stolen as the stranger began sliding his hand across the mattress. As it drew closer Tim felt the bed give under it, causing his own hands to dip down into the groove made. Sensation was the one sense he had full confidence in. The hand slid closer to his face until his head began to dip into the dent it caused. That, and the smell of cigarette smoke on his gloves, was all the confirmation Tim needed to know the man attempting to crawl onto his bed was real.
His body had decided it would fight before his mind could settle on the attack he wanted to go for. He threw himself up without warning and tried reaching for the man ahead of him. His hands were clumsy, constantly changing between claws and fists. Somehow neither made contact as the stalker lurched back. He had been ready for something to happen and had more of a plan than Tim did. While he had to kick and claw his way out of bed, the intruder spun around to flee the room.
"NO! I saw you! Get back here!" Armed with nothing but his fists Tim took off after the intruder. He could barely see the back of his yellow hoodie vanish out of the glow of the hallway nightlight when he got to the bedroom doorway. With little light to see with he continued after him. The stalker's shape slammed into the front door and began clawing at the handle. He couldn't get it in time and ran right, further into the living room, seconds before Tim would have pounced on him. He pawed around the corner till he felt the cold handle of his bat sink into his palm, quickly bringing it into both hands as he blocked the main exit out of the home.
He saw the man's shape again, now blocking the hallway light, as he turned to go back down the main hall and out the side door. Again Tim sprinted after him as he rounded the corner. The stalker wore boots while he was only in socks, causing him to have far less traction. He almost ate shit trying to round the corner on hardwood. By the time he was able to continue down the second hall the backdoor was already open and the man was gone.
"No no no no no! GET BACK HERE!" Tim ran out into his yard, shirtless and swinging a bat wildly into he night. He staggered to a stop when he saw he was alone. Penny darted out a few moments later and he quickly tried egging her on. "Penny! Go find him! Go greet him! C'mon girl go greet him!" He pointed vaguely towards the gate but it was latched shut like always. It was possible the stalker had jumped the fence but not very likely. It was cheap, smooth plastic along the back that would have crumpled under his weight. The sides were made of unstable and old wood that would have done the same thing. He did have a good amount of junk sitting out such as a mower, grill, and outside storage totes though, so if the man had gotten a running start he might have flung himself over...
Once Tim took himself out of these thoughts he looked down to see Penny sat directly in front of him. Her cold nose pressed into his belly as she stared up with a focused gaze. His heartbeat was going too fast and he was acting frantic. He paused his panting just long enough to sigh as he began patting her head.
"You're a shitty guard dog." He muttered breathlessly. "Bet you would have woken up if that guy was stealing your treats huh?" He continued to tease. Between his soft tone and the fact his heartbeat was starting to slow Penny knew she was doing a good job. Her tail wagged as she broke away from him and began sniffing around the yard. Tim perked up and watched her with the hope she'd turn into a Pointer or Hound and lead him directly after the stalker. Instead she pissed and headed back inside. He followed her as his adrenaline began to crash and he felt exhaustion hit him.
Tim, for once, didn't feel like he was crazy. He had proven to himself that this man was real. Now came the real challenge. He had to prove to other people he was real. After locking the back door he went to the front and redid the locks there. They had all been latched earlier, that's why the stalker took so long at the door. He had to undo them...
But if he was so ready to bolt when Tim woke up, then wouldn't he have been smart enough to have left the door unlocked? He considered the intruder could have come in through a window, so Tim began to check every one of them while still carrying the bat around in one hand. If he was an insane stalker he wouldn't have come back the same night he had been discovered. But unfortunately, Tim wasn't that kind of mentally ill and couldn't confidently predict the other man's actions. He wondered if the other was someone from the psych ward he had gotten too chummy with during his last visit.
To his dismay every window remained locked shut with no sign of a break in. He would check all the closets more thoroughly than normal, expecting to find a secret panel or door. There was nothing. No clear way the man got in or had hidden. Tim also found no source for the wooden clunk he had heard earlier.
When he laid down to sleep he naturally stared at the small section of his bed the intruder had touched. It was unmarked. He had found no evidence that could be used to prove the man had ever entered his home. Tim slid his hand over the area in small circles but felt nothing. It had been a long time since someone else shared the bed with him. He begun wondering what the man was sliding his hand so close for. He moved as if going to tuck it under Tim's face and the thought made him shudder in disgust. Of course he knew what a stalker was, their normal intentions, how they worked, but why would someone latch onto him like that? Stalkers were clueless losers or disgusting old men who liked young girls they could never get with. Tim wasn't exactly a young girl, he was a 26 year old bear who worked in construction.
He would sit up in the dark and smoke a cigarette before even trying to sleep again. When he saw light coming through the bedroom window he gave in and decided to rise early. Luckily today was his one day off so he wouldn't have to be alert enough to work, just enough to talk to his therapist, and boy did he have a lot to talk about. If he was just being crazy then it was affecting his life negatively. If he wasn't crazy then someone needed to be in jail. Tim had to at least try and tell someone.
That morning he went around his house with a mug of coffee in one hand and his bat in the other. He whistled as he went searching. It gave his location away but he'd rather not be startled with a hot cup of coffee. When he checked in the bathroom and saw his reflection in the mirror he began to laugh. His life was absurd.
Penny came with him on the trip to the doctor's. He didn't want her home alone if his stalker came back. She could be held for ransom at best or killed at worst. He explained this to Dr. Blackwood when they pointed out Tim brought the emotional support dog. He would explain everything to them. How he had originally planned to keep the situation a secret until he had proof, how he knew he wouldn't be believed, the safety measures he had put in and the tools he used to identify what was real and fake. Tim even highlighted the parts that made no sense to him so the doctor would understand that the was lucid and had already broken down the situation himself.
Tim was complimented for his behavior again and again. His confidence was destroyed when the therapist admitted that they still thought the stalker wasn't real. They brought up the points Tim made that were illogical as well as a few he hadn't thought of. How had he not even grazed a man that was leaned directly over him? How did he have no face? How come Penny had never been able to notice him? He wanted to argue but had learned the hard way that shouting at a therapist, with his kind of history, was a one way ticket for a trip he did not want to take. Even while doing his best to compose himself Tim's jaw clenched when Dr. Blackwood gave their take on the situation. He had an imaginary friend. He was now fully conscious of the disconnect between his lucid mind and the fugue state he fell into while cleaning his house. Tim's brain couldn't easily process the situation so to cope, it had made up a man that cleaned for him. It wouldn't be the first time Tim thought a faceless man was stalking him. Now it was a positive force, one wrapped up in a cozy yellow hoodie, instead of the towering figure he was used too.
He was pissed to say the least. Penny's presence kept him grounded as he left the building and began to head home. He ranted to her in the car, something he found himself doing more often when he needed an outlet.
"Imaginary friend-at fucking 26? Are you kidding me? Do I look like I'd have an imaginary friend? Penny you saw that guy right? You just like him cause he gives you treats. I bet if we went to the vet he'd believe me because you're starting to look a little fat and I never overfeed you."
There were a few beats of silence.
"I'm sorry, Angel. That was mean." He reached over to pet her head. Of course Penny was just having a lovely car ride and wagging her tail during the ramblings. "You're not fat. I'm just- They could have chosen any word and they chose to call it an imaginary friend. Imaginary friends are for weird lonely kids. I'm not a kid." But he was weird, and lonely. His hand rested on his own cheek as he again thought back to what the intruder was planning to do while thinking he was asleep. He had probably done it before while Tim was actually unconscious. Goosebumps rose across his arms and Tim convinced himself it was from fear and disgust.
Before Penny was even off her leash Tim reached for his bat the moment he stepped inside. He lingered there with the door still open behind him and took a deep breath. His natural instinct was to circle around and check every hiding spot like he had been doing. Penny turned back towards him and pressed her nose into his side, drawing his attention down towards her. Already his heart had begun to race. He was letting his paranoia and fear take over.
"Ok Angel... We're fine. Normal. Just a normal man and his normal dog." Tim murmured to himself as he sat the bat down. He unhooked her from her harness and watched as she ran around the home like she always did. He shut the door behind him before going to the kitchen for a beer. He sighed, rubbed his face, and leaned down to peer in at what was normally empty shelves. Tim's entire body froze when he was met with an overflowing fridge. His brows lowered over his eyes as he began to frown. He swiped his hand forward and smacked it straight into some produce. It was real. He jumped back as the peppers and lettuce fell to the ground in front of him.
"Penny go greet! Go greet him!" He shouted over his shoulder. He did it with the intention of being comforted. To confirm in his mind that they had gone shopping between now and his therapy, and his mind was blacking it out like it always had. Instead he saw Penny dart away the second the command was given and went running through the house.
"Fuck." He whispered as he took off after her, leaving the fridge door open.
He didn't think to grab his bat or even a knife from the kitchen. He just trailed behind until Penny lulled to a stop by the backdoor. Not only was it closed, it was locked. She spun back around with her ears forward and looked around, not completing the command. She had never falsely tried to greet like that before. Even Tim could tell nothing was here. "Penelope." He said sternly, causing Penny to look up at him and sit. "Penelope Claire Wright.." Somehow the dog knew she was being scolded and reacted to her full government name with a whine. Tim pointed at her as he spoke in a low growl. "Don't you ever do that to me again." He pointed back at his chest and felt how it rose and fell in rapid succession.
He stomped back to the kitchen and picked up the dropped produce. It was still real. His mind tossed back and forth the idea this was evidence, and the thought that he was crazy. His stalker bought him groceries and magically manifested inside of his highly secured house. Yeah, that was normal stalker behavior. He shoved them back in the fridge before grabbing the bat and pacing around. He muttered to himself about the day and his mental state. Tim worked himself into a bad enough frenzy he had begun to see shadowy figures darting from the corner of his vision. He wasn't as depressed as before but this wasn't better. This was far from better.
He would take two pills with water instead of beer. He wanted his senses to stay sharp. With anxiety brewing in his chest and a whole day ahead of him he would use the stocked fridge to cook a meal.
He used to love cooking. It was cheaper to make his own comfort food than go out to diners all of the time. He had taken a culinary course in college and ended up bringing food to game nights with his old friends. He would think about them while he worked. He had started to mentally struggle near the end of his bachelor's degree. It was bad enough he could barely remember a good two years of his life. Lots of involuntary stays at the ward. Lots of time lost from his memory. The few moments he was conscious had less and less people in them until he was alone.
Tim ended up making too much food. There was enough to feed four men his size so he would portion and freeze what he doubted he'd eat for left overs. He had so much fresh food in the fridge that he didn't want to go to waste.
Hoping to stay active and aware, Tim kept looking for excuses to distract himself. He'd clean the whole kitchen when he was done cooking, going as far as to put every dish away once they were clean. He would take Penny for a looping walk up and down their street until she began sitting every time they passed the house. When he went back inside he looked for chores to do but so much was already clean. The stalker had been coming in regularly to tidy up so there was nothing left for Tim to do. He ended up standing in his living room, tapping his foot, and checking his watch. It wasn't even 5pm yet. It wasn't until he forced himself to return to music that he actually began to feel better. He would play a handful of instruments before putting on records and dancing with Penny. When he spun around he caught a glimpse of himself in the oval mirror he hung in his living room. His grinning, laughing face was so unfamiliar he had startled himself. He hadn't felt like that in a very long time. After smoking two cigarettes, and having a beer, he managed to fall asleep around midnight. He felt odd but would manage to sleep easily and without dreams. None that he remembered, anyway.
When working outside there was always a risk of bad weather, and if it was bad enough, then the day's work would be cancelled. Tim had only been on the construction site a few hours when rain began falling. They tried to wait it out but soon he was sent home, muddy and wet and pissed. The idea of being home for another long length of time filled him with dread. It hadn't set in that he was making a surprise early visit until he was on his street. He was home far ahead of schedule, and he couldn't remember the last time they had gone home because of poor weather. Not since some time last winter. Tim's car slowed before he got even close to turning into his driveway. When he saw the lights on, and movement through the living room windows, his heart nearly beat out of his chest.
He's there! Holy shit he's there!
Tim parked on the curb and snuck the rest of the way to his house. His neighbors were distance and even if they did see him lurking, it probably wasn't the first time. By the time he had crawled onto his porch he was soaked to the bone. As he slid his key into the door he stared at the window. The blinds were down but still he could see light shinning through them from inside, plus a shadow moving around. He could hear Penny's little paws as she scampered around following whoever was inside. Just as he began to turn the handle the light went out. He froze with the realization he might be caught, but he couldn't hear his stalker running away or Penny's frantic footsteps following him.
After a moment of hesitance he pressed the door open fully and began moving inside. It was dark but he could hear the laundry machine running through the constant beat of rain. He rose to his feet but remained hunched low to the ground. The door was left open behind him as he took a few steps into the house. Penny eagerly turned the corner and began running at him. Before he could acknowledge her a man followed after the dog. It was his stalker. The two made eye contact and both froze. It was dim in the house but light enough outside Tim could easily see the man in front of him. He was wearing the exact same clothes as their last visit. Finally he could see that the stalker wasn't faceless, he was just wearing a dark mask. It was made of baggy black fabric that fell loose over his features and pooled around his collar. Painted on was a cartoonish frowny face and a pair of oval eyes.
"YOU!" Tim roared as he tried lunging after the intruder.
His shout had scared Penny away, allowing her to barely escape his line of attack as he bolted forward. He didn't think to grab the bat or any kind of weapon. He was going to tackle his stalker and prove he was real. The intruder scrambled back, further from the light of the door and windows, until he was nearly nonexistent in the shadow of the hall. No nightlight was on to help Tim this time. Still he could see he was gaining on the stalker and once he thought he was close enough he shot ahead. Tim could have swore he was right there, that he could almost smell the man, but after jumping he fell straight forward and landed on the floor. He ignored the pain that shot through his jaw and began clawing the hardwood in front of him, convinced he could grab the intruder's ankles. No one was there. He rose to his hands and knees to look around while his eyes adjusted.
There was nothing, not even a swaying door or curtain that implied the man had darted off faster than Tim expected. He was alone. One hand remained on the floor while the other rubbed Tim's aching face. "I-I don't...Pen-Penny! PENNY! GO GREET!" He shouted over his shoulder at the dog. Her ears went back as she hesitantly padded towards him. "Not me! Him! Go greet him!" He pointed to the dark of his bedroom. Penny's gaze followed his point before she sat down next to Tim and laid her head on his shoulder.
"Oh my God..." Tim whispered as he stared at her. He took one more look around the house as his eyes grew wide, then glossy. It was real. I can't be the one doing all of this. He's real. He pleaded in his mind as he waited for a sound. The laundry machine wasn't running anymore. Maybe it hadn't been when he came in. "Pen-ny-" Tim croaked out as he began to cry. His shaking arms coiled around her as he buried his face in her side. He became aware of himself then, sat soaking wet and cold in the floor of his dark house.
With his hair already plastered to his head there was no point in avoiding a shower. Just to ease his mind he went around checking all the rooms and closets like he always did. Once that task was done he went to take a long, hot shower. He would cry then too, gentle weeping as he reflected back on the last few weeks of his life. By the time he was dry and in his pajamas he did feel better. He smoked in the back doorway while watching Penny fight against the rain. It was only getting worse, and a single bolt of lightning was all it took to send both of them back inside for good.
They settled on the couch together and Tim tried focusing his mind elsewhere, letting one of his arms rest on top of Penny in a loose hug as they watched TV together. Still in the back of his mind he thought about his stalker and grew worried. If he wholly accepted that this stalker was imaginary as he and his therapist had discussed, the delusion might collapse in on itself. It was an awful thing to be haunted by but it was his brain's best attempt at making comfort. If he got ahead of it and faced the reality of his situation, the isolation and loss of control, his brain would just brew up a new false reality to sink into. Tim didn't want to face a new mental labyrinth. Maybe an imaginary friend was his best option.
He drank and enjoyed another cigarette as he tried to relax on the couch. He knew he should have put some precautions in place for himself. Normally he hunkered down in his bedroom to avoid storms but this time he lounged back and bared the lightning that came through the living room windows. He wouldn't go around turning on the nightlights either. Tim even thought of skipping his night dosage of medicine but a rumbling cough in his chest changed his mind on that very quickly. Encouraging negative symptoms while already in such a rough state was not smart but Tim couldn't bare the thought of being alone right now. He had a feeling if he did this then he would have a visitor, and he was right.
Just as he was ready to call it quits and go to bed, something caught his eye.
During a mild flash of lightning he saw a pillar of color barely slipping out from the hallway and into the living room. His head turned to look at the color but that corner of the room was fully in shadow. After a moment, he glanced down at Penny to see her asleep, then focused back on the TV. He stroked his hand along her back while watching out of the corner of his eye. He heard thunder rumble overhead, and fixed his gaze on the corner, waiting patiently for the next strike. Lightning flashed and he saw it, a sliver of his stalker, peering out the corner to stare directly at him. Tim's heart rate began to spike... but externally he put on a sleepy smile.
"Heeeey Buddy. Watchin' a little TV with us? You like the Oldies?" He stared at the dark as he received no response. Penny drowsily rose her head and began looking around.
"Go. Go greet him Penny." He whispered as he lifted his arm off of her. She looked at him in confusion before trying to scan the room. Tim's smile turned into a grin. "Don't worry man. We're friends. That's what my therapist said. I'll stop trying to attack you. You're so nice to me after all, always cleaning my house."
His voice was laced with sarcasm. He wasn't sure why, or who the sass was for. In reality he was just scared and doing anything to seem brave. He turned away from the dark corner to drink a bit more of his beer. "I know you're there so uh, why don't you come a little closer? I know you want too. That's what stalkers are into right? Watch TV with me. I mean it. Seriously. My bat is by the door so its not like I can hurt you." Tim sat his beer down before lifting both hands up to prove he had no weapons.
Penny was fully staring at him now as she let out a small yap of concern. Talking to no one was always a bad sign, one she knew to watch out for.
"C'mon Penny I thought you liked this guy. He's always giving you treats." Tim murmured as he focused down onto the dog. She leaned forward to sniff him, causing Tim's eyes to nearly cross as he looked at her little face. His attention was drawn up when he saw his stalker slowly walk out of the dark corner. More and more of him was revealed as he moved further into the blue light from the TV. He only stopped when he was directly at the other end of the couch, his hips and lower stomach a few inches away from where Tim had his feet propped up. Penny's head dove down to alert against Tim's chest when she felt how fast his heart was beating. He stared up at the intruder with wide eyes but a stoic expression as he tried to steel his nerves. Any thoughts of encouraging the imaginary stalker left his mind. All he could think of now was ways to calm his panic.
"You're not real." He whispered.
The intruder slowly tilted his head to one side. Tim gulped.
"Not real. Imaginary. A figment of my imagination." He continued to whisper as he pointed towards his own temple. "Not real not real not real. Penny?" The dog's head perked up. "Go. Go greet him. Right there." He pointed down his body and towards the stalker.
Penny's head followed Tim's arm, then she popped up to her feet. Her walk was a little wobbly as she ran down his legs and towards the arm rest. Tim's expression slowly began to fall and his lips parted. Penny hopped up and pressed her front paws against the stalker's chest. Her tail wagged excitedly and she began to bark, causing the man to flinch back. He looked quickly between Penny and Tim, his head bobbing to do so, before he gently guided her back onto the couch.
"What the fuck?" Tim whispered as his throat began to tighten. "Penny greet him!" He ordered in a shrill voice as he scrambled to sit up and draw his legs in. Penny carefully leapt out of Tim's lap and onto the now empty section of the couch. Again she jumped up and put her paws on the stalker's stomach. He grabbed her paws gently in his gloved hands and guided them back to the couch as he began to step away. Tim's breath had turned ragged and soon he began to cough as he stared, bug eyed, at the man in his house. He backed away until he disappeared into the darkness entirely.
Tim didn't give chase, he didn't shout, he didn't even think about the bat in the corner.
Tim was not a helpless man but in that moment he felt more terrified than he'd ever be able to admit. This wasn't a monster under his bed, a demon from his past, a horrific imagined threat that always loomed over his shoulder. This man was real. He had always been real. Every part of him, his touch, his ability to always get in, and his intentions. Whatever they were they were going to come to fruition and Tim had no one he could go to for help.