Page 9 of Halluci-Dating A Demon
He also isn’t real. Man, how nuts do my thoughts sound right now? Thank God no one can hear them. I’m such a mess that I’m starting to get a little too cozy and attached to my delusions. If I could shake my head, I would.
“I’m also sorry for eating your candy. It was just so good. I . . . kind of have a sugar problem, and those were delicious. Would you mind if I tried the blueberry ones?”
He slaps himself on the forehead. “Right, you can’t answer. And of course you’d mind. I’m supposed to make this a better experience for you, not eat all your candy. I can try to pick some more up for you on the way home.” He looks back, scrunching up his face. “More cheese puffs too. Sorry, while I was waitingfor you to wake up, I got bored. One thing led to another, and I found myself in the kitchen . . . then in the pantry.” He waves his head from side to side. “I also found some yummy mango juice in a can in the fridge, and string cheese. I just love cheese. I could eat it all day long and in every form. Cheese curds, melted cheese, Jalapeno cheese, fried cheese . . .”
Closing his eyes, he buries his face in the front of my hoodie. “I’m doing it again. Just going on and on. Where were we before?” His gaze bounces around the room and perks up as if having some lightbulb moment.
“Oh, yes! Pen and notepad.” Going back to digging in my drawer, he stops when he reaches a pack of condoms I bought when I started back up on hookup apps after Brody ended things. Nothing ever went further than a “What’s up?” or “Have any more pictures?”
Throat bobbing, he sets them back down, and his eyes go wide at the bottle of lube. Something I have used lately and needs to be replaced soon. “I’m not so sure I’m going to find what I’m looking for here.”
Closing the drawer, he blows out a breath and wanders out of the room. When he comes back, he has a pen and notepad in his hand. This hallucination is lasting way longer than my others. So damn detailed too.
The bed weighs down a little as he lowers himself back beside me, and he scribbles something down on the second page. “Don’t worry, I won’t write over your grocery list.” He goes back to pressing the pen to the paper, humming a tune I’ve never heard before.
As he’s setting the notepad on my nightstand, I’m able to move my hand, and his smiling face starts to fade. “Can’t wait to read your answers when I come back. Have a good day at work, Elias.”
My heart skips a beat when he says my name. Then he’s gone and I’m sitting up in bed, unable to breathe properly when I see the notebook where he’d put it, with the question, “What’s your favorite song and do you like to dance to it?” written down on the page.
I close my eyes, and when I open them the words are still there. Closing the notebook and opening it again doesn’t make them disappear. Neither does splashing water on my face or chugging an energy drink. I’m awake and this is real. But he can’t be real. Can he? Did I do this in my sleep? I’ve I really gone off the rails that much?
After getting dressed and eating a grilled cheese sandwich, I tread downstairs playing his last words in my head over and over.
“Have a good day at work, Elias.”
When closing time comes and I still can’t get him off my mind, I walk outside to get some air while searching up sleep-paralysis demons in the monster world. My breaths stutter as I scroll further down the page. They’re real. They actually exist.
I never actually know what does and doesn’t. Some things really are figments of a human’s imagination, but there really are creatures who show up while you’re waking up and in a paralyzed state. He visits my dreams too, and there’s nothing in anything I read that says they can do that. Also, he’s nothing like the last one who would always show up. Is she a different species entirely? Based on what many articles and stories say about them, they’re never pleasant and they feed off bad emotions.
Why did it feel like he was trying to do the opposite every time he came to visit me?
“Everything alright, boss?” Ian lights a cigarette beside me.
I wave the puff of smoke away, putting more distance between us. “Yeah. I’m just thinking.”
“What about?” He stares ahead, shoving the bud between his lips again.
“Just usual day-to-day stuff.”
“You sure?” He slips me a side glance.
I fake a laugh. “I am. I’m going to head on up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“That you will. Night, El.”
My ears ring, shoulders tightening. “Don’t call me that,” I snap, not meaning to.
He licks his lips, putting out his cigarette with the tip of his shoe. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I heard it was something you go by sometimes.”
“Well, it’s not.” I look down at where the light is going out beside his sneaker and point while opening the door. “Make sure not to leave that there. I’m tired of picking up those things every morning.”
His eyebrows lift. “I . . .”
I shut the glass door behind me, not able to hear whatever he tries to say next. But I can see him bend down to grab the butt from the sidewalk, and he waves it at me.
I huff a breath, grinding my teeth as I head up the stairs, not waving back. I was fine. Everything was going okay, and then he called me that nickname. The name only one person would call me. Okay, two. But Adam did it first, and Brodie followed along after hearing him say it so much, agreeing that it had a ring to it. He was so agreeable with everything Adam did toward the end, while he and I argued about the smallest instances. Was I losing him even before the accident? Did my brother know? They were basically best friends, stuck to each other’s sides whenever I couldn’t tag along with them somewhere.
Shaking off the thought, I shed my clothes and get in the shower. The warm water rolls over my shoulders and I lean into it, closing my eyes. The confusion and sadness piles on, weighingme down inside. Heaviness moves from my heart to my knees, and I grab onto the wall as my mind blurs. Those few seconds caught where I swear I’m falling, a voice appears at the back of my head.
