Page 25 of Splintered
Finally, the third night, Ben spread his alarms out, waking up only every two hours. He still stayed up until two o’clock in the morning and watched Evan sleep as he graded essays and quizzes until his vision blurred and his red ink swam across the page. During his prep periods, Ben put his head back and slept in his desk chair with this classroom lights off. Dark bags were a permanent fixture beneath his eyes.
Some days, he was too exhausted to shave, afraid he’d slice his nose off if he tried.
He couldn’t summon the energy to cook, either, and he brought home a pizza Friday afternoon. He kicked his shoes off in the kitchen, rolling his neck as he grabbed paper towels and a beer for him, a bottle of water for Evan.
The empty kitchen counter stretched before him. His gaze kept turning back to the tile, the smooth granite, as if he should be searching for something but he didn’t know what. Had he forgotten something? Lost something?
His mind was too tired to string thoughts together anymore. If he’d forgotten something important, he’d remember it later. He grabbed the pizza and drinks and headed for the stairs. At the kitchen’s entrance, he stopped and looked back at the counter and the blank space beneath the pendulum light.
Hell, he was exhausted.
Evan kissed him as he climbed into bed and then ate half of the pizza. It was the most appetite he’d shown in two weeks, and Ben smiled stupidly as he watched him devour slice after slice. The beer made the world fuzzy, made his thoughts spread thin, and he turned the TV on as Evan curled into his side, falling asleep while a movie played softly. He kissed Evan’s forehead, his hair, and stroked his back until his eyes slipped closed and everything faded to a gentle, sleepy darkness.
At some point, Evan rolled away and spread out, and Ben curled into the covers and spooned him as he buried his face in Evan’s neck. Warmth filled him, their bodies pressed from head to toes, the blankets cocooning them in a safe cradle.
* * *
Ben shivered.He rolled over, searching for Evan.
His hands searched across the cold and empty mattress.
Not again.
His eyes flicked open, and he looked first to the window. It was shut, but his breath still fogged in front of him. Was their heater acting up? He still had to get it checked. In the meantime, he and Evan could cuddle for warmth. But where was Evan?
Ben sat up, throwing his legs over his side of the bed—
His knees hit something solid. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there.
Ben gasped, jerking back to the center of the bed as adrenaline burned through him. His jaw dropped, going slack.
Evan stood at the side of the bed, next to his nightstand, completely still. Like he’d been frozen, or was a statue of the real Evan, some imposter mannequin made from wax. His eyes were open, staring down at the space in the bed where Ben had lain. He didn’t blink. He barely seemed to breathe.
“Evan?” Ben crawled forward. His fingers shook as he reached for him.
Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, Evan turned his head toward him. Ben swore he heard bones grind together, heard cartilage squeal in Evan’s neck. He stared, completely frozen, like a mouse going still as a hawk circled above.I am prey, his primal mind screamed. He was prey, and he was in danger. Every cell in his body, every particle of his being, knew it.
Evan’s face was cast in shadow, the streetlight’s glow falling short of his eyes. His stubbled jaw was carved out of the darkness, save for pinpricks that gleamed from the center of his pupils in a furious golden rage. Evan’s hazel eyes always looked like firelight when they were in shadow, but this, this was something else. He’d never seenthisbefore.
“Evan?” he mouthed. He barely breathed a sound. “Is that you?”
Silence. Ben waited, begging Evan to respond, to exhale, to shake his head and lean in for a kiss, say he was just checking on Ben. That everything was fine and this was just Ben’s overactive imagination running wild in the darkness, taking a seconds-long moment and turning it into a horror film.
As the blackened silence lasted, lengthened, grew thick and heavy with expectation, Ben’s certainty that things would be all right, would go back to normal, ebbed away. His hope escaped on an exhale.
“Ben,” Evan finally said. His voice was hoarse, like he’d been screaming for days, had shredded his vocal cords beyond repair. “How do you know this is me?”
Ben blinked.I don’t. I fucking don’t, not anymore. “What do you mean, hon?”
“How do you know I’m still in here? What if I’m not me anymore, but there’s something that’s pretending to be me? That knows me so well it can mimic me? In every way, so perfectly that even you can’t tell?”
I can tell. I can so fucking tell. “Evan, what are you saying?”
“What do you think could do that? What could imitate a person so perfectly? Do you think the Devil could do that? Could the Devil trick you so well you can’t tell if someone is who you love or not?”
“What—"
“Could the Devil trick me that well? So I don’t even know I’m not me anymore?”
