Page 5 of Backwater Boogeyman

The words send a chill down my spine. He knows my name. I let out a startled cry and hang up, my fingers now numb. My heart races as I stand there, the silence of the house pressing in on me. I glance out the window, towards Lash's house, largely hidden by the large trees.

I want to run over there and seek his protection. Lash is big and strong. Dangerous. He won’t hesitate to take on a madman. Maybe I’d ask him to come and look around the house? But the thought makes me hesitate. I don’t want to come across as a coward or as crazy.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I head upstairs, every creak of the old house making me jump. Once in my bedroom, I shut the door, even though I know a closed door won't keep out my fears. The room feels different now, the shadows filled with potential threats.

I crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. The quilt that used to feel so warm and safe now feels suffocating. The sounds of the bayou, once soothing, are now ominous. Every rustle of leaves, every distant croak of a frog, feels like a whisper of danger.

I wish I’d handled the situation with Lash better. I wish I could trust him, could run to him and let him protect me. But I barely know him. I swallow, thinking I’ll go over to him tomorrow and get to know him better. I could use a confidant.

Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, though my sleep is far from peaceful. I toss and turn, my dreams filled with shadows and whispers, with intense eyes and inked skin. The voice echoes in my mind, a haunting refrain of "I just want to be loved."

I wake several times, my heart pounding, before finally drifting into a fitful, restless sleep. The feeling of being watched never leaves me.

4.

Lash

The moon is high, casting an eerie gleam over the bayou as I slip out of my house and cross the yard to Mega's. The night wraps around me like a cloak, concealing my movements. The thrill of the hunt pulses through my veins, each step calculated, every breath measured. I'm careful not to make a sound as I approach her door, slipping the lock with practiced ease.

She’s a good girl for locking it like I told her. It means she wants no men inside the house. Other than me.

Breaking and entering always was one of my specialties, after all.

Inside, the house is dark and silent. The air feels charged, heavy with the weight of my presence. I let my eyes adjust, the faint outlines of furniture emerging from the shadows. My gaze fixes on the staircase. She's up there, asleep, oblivious to the danger lurking in her home.

I tread lightly up the steps, each creak of the old wood like a gunshot in the quiet. When I reach her bedroom door, I push it open just enough to slip inside. Moonlight spills through the window, bathing the room in a soft glow.

She's there, tangled in her blankets, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her hair spreads across the pillow, framing her face. The sight of her stirs something deep within me, a mix of desire and longing that borders on obsession. Being this close to her, watching her sleep, it's intoxicating.

I move closer, my footsteps soundless on the worn floorboards. I crouch beside her bed, studying her. In sleep, she looks so peaceful, so young. Her lips, slightly parted, beckon me closer. I reach out, my fingers brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. The contact sends a shiver through me, electrifying me.

"You're so beautiful," I whisper, my voice barely a breath. "So perfect."

She squirms slightly at my touch, her nightgown slipping down her shoulder to reveal a scar. My eyes narrow, rage bubbling up at the sight. My fists clench, but I force myself to stay calm. Now is not the time. She needs my protection, not my anger.

I let my hand trail down her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw. She stirs but doesn’t wake, her body relaxing again. I lean in, unable to resist the pull any longer, and press a soft kiss to her lips. They’re warm, inviting, and I linger a moment, savoring the sweetness of the contact.

"Sleep well, my love,” I whisper against her skin, then pull back.

I straighten, taking one last look at her before slipping out of the room. Every nerve is on edge as I make my way back downstairs, out the door, and into the night. The thrill of the intrusion, of being so close to her without her knowing, courses through me. But there’s more than just thrill; there’s a deep, unshakable need to protect her, to keep her safe from men like me.

Men like me. But not me.

5.

Mega

I wake up groggy, my head fuzzy from a night of restless sleep and strange dreams. In the back of my mind, there’s a lingering sensation that someone was in my house, in my room. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but I push it aside. It was just a dream, I tell myself, shaking off the unease.

I get out of bed and head to the bathroom. A quick shower washes away some of the remnants of the night, and the hot water soothes my tense muscles. As I towel off, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are haunted, shadows lurking beneath them.

Deciding to do something to lift my spirits, I curl my hair into soft waves. I apply a bit of makeup, just enough to brighten my features and give me a sense of normalcy. I even pull out a dress I haven’t worn in a while, one that hugs my shape just enough to entice a man.

A man like Lash. A man like the caller…

Swallowing and taking a deep breath, I decide to go over to my neighbor. Maybe seeing him, talking to him in the daylight, will help clear my fears. I gulp, realizing I normally would’ve stayed away from him but the caller makes me desperate to seek protection…his protection.

Lash’s house is simple, blending seamlessly into the surroundings. The exterior is weathered but well-kept, with a small porch and a garden that looks like it’s seen a lot of care. The trees that partially hide my view of his home add a touch of mystery.

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