Page 8 of Underneath the Mask

“No, I haven’t eaten. I’ve been throwing up all morning.” I snap.

He sighs and I can sense his annoyance with my answer. He thinks I’m crazy and who can blame him? Shit, even I’m beginning to think I’m crazy.

“Get in the shower. I’m stepping into the elevator at the parking garage and I’m going to lose you. Don’t worry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Amanda, I’m on my way. Call me back if you need to.”

“Love you,” I whisper before hanging up.

Do I though?I think.Do I love him? He obviously doesn’t believe me. But if I were him, would I believe me?I look around my room. It looks like I came home after losing a trauma patient, downed a bottle, went to bed with a book, passed out, and woke up a train wreck. It doesn’t look like I went to the gym, fucked a masked guy, almost died, watched someone get stabbed, and then found a pair of eyeballs sealed inside of a box on my doorstep. The eyeballs, though. That’s my proof. Maybe I should bring them up here with me. I shudder at the thought. I don’t want to even be in the same house as them. Thinking about it makes my stomach turn.

“He’s right.” I say to myself. “Go take a shower, Amanda.”

I need to clear my mind and figure out exactly what happened last night. Everything feels overwhelming, like the world is crashing down around me as I walk into the bathroom and turn the shower on, setting the temperature to burning hot and letting it get hot before I step inside. Then I take the longest, hottest shower I’ve taken in a really long time. My entire body isfeeling so much better and the effects of my hangover are finally wearing off. I’ve been in the shower for nearly half an hour, which means my boyfriend should be here any minute. I shut off the water and step onto the bath mat. When I do, the doorbell rings. My blood runs cold all over again and my heart races. What now? I check the live camera view, but there’s no one there and there’s no recording either. Maybe I really am losing my fucking mind.

eight

Countdown

Amanda

My application for mental health-based leave from work was approved. It’s taken me a few days to come to terms with stepping away from work to take care of myself, and I know my boyfriend is secretly hoping he can convince me not to go back ever. It’s been five days since my psychotic breakdown. He hasn’t left my side, except to work in his home office, since he came home and found me distraught. It’s the first time he’s left me home alone. I begged him for breakfast from the coffee shop and bakery down the street. I actually feel a little guilty about feeling smothered because he was so excited to get us a morning treat. When he left, I curled up in the living room chair to binge watch Gilmore Girls, which is all I’ve done for days. My therapist prescribed me some anti-anxiety medication, but I hate the way it feels. I’ve been pretending to take them, because I’m not a fan of medication and the way it makes me feel disconnected from myself. I’ve treated way too many people for addiction in the emergency room. I’ve been hiding them under my tongue then spitting them into the toilet so he doesn’t notice.Honestly, I’m not sure how my boyfriend would feel about a more natural approach—considering these are prescribed—but something tells me if it meant I would stay at home and let him provide for me, he’d give it a pass. I roll my eyes at myself and my internal monologuing.

I mentally run through the events of the last few days. When he arrived, I was in bed curled up around the pillows, dozing in and out of sleep, mentally exhausted. The second he woke me up, I took one look at him and completely broke down. He spent at least twenty minutes trying to get me calmed down and then when I led him downstairs to see the package of eyeballs on the kitchen counter, nothing was there. Even the knife I know I left on the countertop was back exactly where it belonged. He pulled up all the video footage. Nothing was there. There wasn’t even a video of me opening the front door.

My boyfriend is the one who convinced me to take some mental health time at work and helped me complete all the paperwork. He even emailed it over to my boss for me and made sure my therapy appointments were all set up for virtual. He knows I’m too terrified to leave the house right now. I sigh. How is it that this man is so sweet? He takes the best care of me, goes above and beyond for me all the time, except in the bedroom. It’s been over a month, almost two, since the last time we were intimate. I’m sure he hasn’t tried anything recently because he’s worried about me, but it’s just so confusing. How can everything about him be absolutely perfect and here I am, ungrateful that our relationship isn’t built on sex?Maybe you’re more messed up than you realize.I chastise, turning my attention back to the TV and desperately try to unsuccessfully shut my brain off.

It doesn’t matter. I’m off work until after Halloween. I have strict instructions to check in weekly with the therapist and take it easy. Plus, I’m not allowed to read any more stalker romances or books with lots of triggers until I’m feeling better. Everyonethinks I dreamed it all up. Even I’m beginning to realize they’re probably right. Losing patients is always hard, but this last one messed me up more than I realized. I should be thankful to have such a supportive partner, instead of thinking about how much I wish he would just rail me.

I take a deep breath. Today begins my countdown to Halloween. I’m a member of the spooky-bitches-for-life club, and no amount of anxiety is going to rob me of an opportunity to celebrate the crap out of my favorite holiday this year. Besides, it will help me stay distracted, so long as I don’t watch anything too terrifying. Scary movies move over, spooky season vacation from work begins today.

nine

Temptation

Mask

Night surrounds everything, cloaking me in its dark embrace. I’ve been watching her for hours. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since the other night. She hasn’t been to work in days. In fact, she hasn’t left the house since our little soirée at the gym. I suppose I’m partially responsible for that. My mind trails off, remembering the time we spent together. I want to have her again. I need to have her again. It’s all I’ve thought about for days. That’s why I’m here. This withdrawal—the inability to see her like this—mixed with the thrill and excitement of it all, was unbearable. I had to see her. I had to visit my little masterpiece.

I miss so many things about her. The way she smells, the way her body moves when she walks, the sound of her voice. She’s all tucked away, safe and sound, far away from me. It’s not fair. There’s nothing I can do but wait it out. She’ll venture out again, and I’ll be right here waiting for her when she does.

I’ve been working on a bit of a back-up plan for if she doesn’t leave the house soon. A worst case scenario option. Halloween night is the perfect opportunity for me to slip into the houseundetected, and take what I’m craving. She felt so good around me. Her juices made my cock smell like her for hours. I’m craving her body again, and Halloween is still two weeks away. My hand knowingly slides into my sweatpants as I watch her from the patio chair in her backyard. She’s sleeping on the couch again. The rise and fall of her chest is steady as the TV blares in the background. She doesn’t know that she’s actually all alone. She thinks her boyfriend is just upstairs working, like he always says. The truth is, he’s sneaking out and keeping secrets. For a brief moment, I consider slipping inside and touching her. My fingers ache to touch her supple skin, to feel it beneath their grip. I want to run them over her the way I did a few nights ago. Except I can’t risk her waking up. Two weeks might be a long time, but it’s the best chance I’ll have at taking her again. The only chance I’ll have to feel her tight, wet pussy coming all over my dick.

My grasp tightens and I imagine I’m thrusting into her instead of jerking off in her backyard while I watch her sleeping. I study the object of my obsession closely. Amanda Jenkins, twenty-five, and a nurse at the local community hospital. She has long, blonde hair that sparkles beneath the sunlight. It usually falls in waves around her face. But tonight she wears her hair pulled back in some kind of intricate braid. She’s not wearing makeup—she doesn’t need to. Her beauty is the rare beauty that radiates from within her. She’s the kind of natural beauty every man dreams of. A goddamn masterpiece, just like the sunflowers swaying in the breeze along the back fence line. Every seed and every petal uniquely beautiful, just like her. I close my eyes and picture her face staring back at me in the mirror while I fucked her. My hand tugs on my cock harder and faster. I’m in more of a hurry than usual. Normally she’s a creature of habit but, without work to dictate her day, she’s become unpredictable. She could open her eyes right now and see me jerking off on herpatio furniture from the window. I shrug my shoulders, thinking about it. So what if she did? It’s not like she would do anything about it. She’d be far too afraid to call the police, and if she runs upstairs in search of her precious lover, she’ll find he’s not even home and nowhere to be found. My lips turn up into a sinister smirk. The entire time I’ve spent stalking her, I’ve been paranoid she’ll catch me, and now I almost want her to wake up. I want to relish in the rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I open my eyes to make sure she’s not watching me back and secretly hoping she is. It’s far too quiet. If she could see me jerking off, I’m pretty sure she would scream. My cock tightens, my excitement growing. I love the way she screams. Fuck. I’m close, so very close to coming as I watch the round curves of her breasts rising and falling while I pump faster. I think about how fucking hot it was to watch those pretty lips of hers surrounding my cock, suctioned around it as her tongue laps over my sensitive nerves. My release is closing in as I replay the way she swallowed every inch of me. Even in my memories, I’m hypnotized, unable to stop myself from picturing her. Suddenly, it hits me. The familiar tug of relief is about to go pulsing through me. My cum shoots out in a steady stream; each stroke dropping more to the ground between my feet with a splatter. That’s just what I needed, even if it doesn’t compare to the way she felt when I was pounding her desperate little cunt.

Only two more weeks,I remind myself. I can make it two more weeks and then on Halloween night I’ll finally get to take what’s mine again. If I have to wait that long, it will be worth every minute. The anticipation alone is already driving me wild.

ten

Dread

Amanda

Imust have dozed off on the couch earlier watching TV. The sun no longer fills the house with natural light. Instead, it splashes dark shadows across the room and up the walls. Above me it sounds like a door creaked open, except no one else is here. It’s the first time I’ve been home alone since my incident. I thought it would feel good to have some space back after being smothered for a week, except now there’s too much space. There’s too much empty, and I don’t want to be alone. I take a deep breath.Everything is okay. You’re just freaking yourself out,I think to myself. I desperately wish I could time travel to the end of the day, to the part where he comes home so we can curl up with one another and I can sleep against him while he works from his tablet. Consistency has been nice, having a structured schedule, even if it is a schedule full of nothing, has been nice. It doesn’t always have to be a schedule full of nothing, though. I could find a purpose for my time. I also like working at the hospital and giving back to the community. Maybe I could cut back to part time. He’s not even here keeping me company,and he’s in my head trying to convince me to just let him take care of me.

Groaning, I check the time again. It will be dark soon. The sun is already dropping and painting shadows all over the house. My pumpkin spice-scented candle flickers on the coffee table, casting more shadows. It’s my cue to flip on all the lights in the living room, entryway, and kitchen. As I flip on the light in the entryway, I swear I hear what sounds like footsteps in the room above me. I scurry to the kitchen to pull out a knife and listen. When ten minutes have passed, I decide to return to the living room. I pull a blanket out of the bin and cozy back up on the couch. My heart is hammering away in my chest while my thoughts run away into a panicked frenzy of imaginary what if scenarios. All I’m doing is scaring myself more. The silence of the house must be getting to me.Anxiety is so much fun—not.I think with a sigh.

I turn on a not-scary Halloween movie and grab my phone for a little doom scrolling to distract me from my thoughts. I just need something else to think about for a little while until he comes home. Only one more hour, and in a little while I’ll order us a pizza so I can surprise him with dinner and a movie. I’m sure his first day back at the office was grueling and even though I know he loves to cook for me, I don’t want him to feel like he needs to.

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