Heat tints my cheek, but I force myself to stamp it down. The only times the word ‘beautiful’ has been used to describe me since the accident was in a newspaper article that called me a “beautiful tragedy” and these notes from the Faceless Man. I never thought that I would want validation from a man who is a complete mystery, but I’ve become obsessed with it.
It’s more than an obsession. It’s a craving. A need.
As much as I want him to get out of my life, he’s the only reason that I haven’t felt completely alone since Dahlia died. A part of me never wants it to end in fear that once he leaves, I’ll realize that he’s taken the lifeboats from a sinking ship.
Does that make me as crazy as they claim? Or does it just make me human?
The house sits empty when I arrive home. Just as it always is.
My shift finished without any hiccups, but my feet ache and my stomach hasn’t stopped groaning from not having eaten anything in twenty-four hours.
I throw a pizza in the microwave and eat in silence, staring at the charcoal smear above the stove.
The lack of sleep from last night is getting to me. My body drags me down as I go about my night routine and stand in front of my prescription drawer. The medications to stop the hallucinations and the anxiety are enough to put me to sleep. Staying asleep is another matter entirely.
When I dream, I know that I dream of him. I don’t remember what happens in the dream, so I can’t know for sure. But I’m certain that it’s him. The only dreams that I remember are of the night of the accident.
I couldn’t hear his black boots crunch the leaves as he walked toward me, Dahlia’s car blazing behind him with her in it. I couldn’t hear any of it. The doctors told me that I flew out of the window upon collision, landing in the dirt with glass sticking out of my body and my neck turned to the side. The faulty seatbelt was the only thing that had stopped me from burning alive.
I couldn’t move to look at him as he kneeled next to me and trailed a finger down my bloody cheek and whispered, “Not yet, my Lilith.”
Dr. Mallory’s pills track down my throat and I drag my feet to my room. I check that the nanny cam has enough battery and the windows are locked before falling into bed and letting the medication-induced sleep take me under.
“So sweet. So beautiful. My precious little flower.” His voice comes from behind me.
I gasp and spin around. For once, he’s there. In a cloak standing in the middle of a beach before a storm. The waves roar as they crash against the shore, deep blue beneath the slate gray sky.
The wind wraps around my bare arms, whipping the white dress around my legs. But I don’t feel cold. I don’t feel nature’s bite at all. When I look down, I finally notice his symbol drawn in the sand, with me standing at the edge of it.
At once, the sounds disappear even though the waves become ravenous and lightning splits the sky. The distance between us closes until he’s a matter of steps away.
This is a dream, but it feels so real at the same time. Have I been here before? Why does this place look so familiar?
The Faceless Man reaches out and trails a pale finger down my cheek just as he did the night of the accident. The touch is so warm and tender, and I want so badly to tear that hood from off his head to see what he looks like. I want to see all of him. I’ve already seen the way his clothes strain to contain the muscles hidden beneath the dark layers. I deserve so much more.
His fingers move down to the back of my neck and he pulls me closer to him. Still, I cannot see what is hidden beneath the shadows of his hood. I should pull away from him, tell him to go to hell for hunting me like I’m prey.
“You are a vision of pure beauty, Lilith.”
No one calls me that; both Lilith and ‘pure beauty’. The shock of the words doesn’t stop the shiver from running down my spine. I like my name on his lips—if he even has them.
“What’s your name?” I say.
His other hand comes up to trace the curve of my lips. “What would you like to call me?”
“You’re the Faceless Man.”
His laugh rumbles like the sea, and I almost inch closer just to drink in more of the sound. Maybe even lay my head against his chest to feel its vibrations. “Only because your eyes are closed, my love.”
My toes curl into the black sand. I tell myself it’s because I miss the sensation of having sand between my toes. Not because hearing him say ‘my love’ in something other than a whisper has sent molten heat through every corner of my being.
I stare at his hooded form and look around the expanse of sea and sand. “What do you want from me?”
“Everything.”
I swallow. I have nothing to give. No money, no happiness, no faith. I’m an empty woman with a heart that never truly beats. I may have a home, but I don’t truly belong there.
The hand holding the back of my neck moves, tangling his fingers within my hair as his thumb continues to skate along my lips and down the column of my throat.
“Why?” I finally say.
“Because you were made for me, Lilith. My perfect other. Fate has aligned and brought you to me.”
I try pushing against his chest, only because I know that’s what I should be doing. Beneath my hands are nothing but fabric and his corded muscle, requiring no further effort than existence to fight against my fruitless attempts.
“You aren’t real.” None of this is real. This is all just a bad dream. Any second I will wake up to the sound of the alarm and this will all be over. I’ll be back to only knowing the sound of his voice through ominous whispers and the fantasies that play out in my head when I read his more sinful letters.
His hooded head moves down until the soft material is pressed against my face. “You cannot run from me, because I will catch you. You cannot hide from me, because I will find you. I have smelt your scent, let it linger on my skin, you are imprinted in my memory. You are mine, Lilith. There is nothing you can do to escape me.”
I shake my head as he pulls back and flushes my body against his, all hardened and warm like a summer’s day, yet cold like winter’s first frost. Each syllable from his lips is a rope winding tighter and tighter around me, holding me in place. I don’t want to leave. This feels like the one thing I have wanted most: peace.
“Who are you?” I whimper, wanting to feel more than just his muscles beneath the cloak. I want to travel the length of his jaw to feel if he has stubble or a beard. I want to know if gray eyes will stare back at me, or maybe brown or blue?
I shouldn’t feel like this, I shouldn’t be doing this, not when Evan is asleep on the other side of town. Who is this hooded man? The man that came to me at the accident, who stood next to my bed in the hospital when I should have been taking my last breath, who sends me letters and brings me gifts, even when I am at my lowest.
“I am anyone you want me to be.” His hand slithers down from my hair, to the valley of my spine, and settles at the soft curve of my waist. The move feels so natural, like he has done this a thousand times and we are just lovers reuniting once more. “I shall give you a hint: Just as a ship comes to harbor, our meeting is inevitable, my darling Lilith. At the corner of the earth, I will wait for the ship to come. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I will be there to greet you and all the souls that will come after.”
The Faceless Man. The Nameless Man. “Why can’t you just tell me your name?”
He cocks his head to the side as if studying me. But I don’t feel his scrutinizing gaze, only one of sweet adoration that sends pools of lava to my core. He pulls me even closer, just when I thought it wasn’t possible.
“You know my name, my night monster.” He cups my face in his hand and lowers his head to mine, but all I see beneath the hood is darkness.