I couldn’t just wait for Jack to come home. What if he was hiding his face from me like all the others? In that horrible, weeping angels pose?

So I called him at work. Videocalled him.

I breathed a sigh of relief when he picked up. He wasn’t hiding his face. “Hi, love!” he said with a grin. “Videocalling me, huh? What’s the occasion?”

“When will you be back?"

His smile faded. "Is something wrong?”

"Everything's fine. Just trying to figure out what to do for din--"

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang, echoing up the stairs.

No. Oh God, no.

Mrs. Rose came back.

"Is someone at the door?" Jack asked, frowning.

"Yeah, uh, it's just--just a delivery. I'll go get it lat--"

Ding-dong.

"I'll see you soon, bye." Before he could say more, I hung up.

I lay there on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, my heart going a million miles an hour. The doorbell rang once, twice, three more times before it finally stopped.

I lay there, listening to the hum of the heater. Thoughts swirled in my head but for some reason, my mind kept boomeranging back to what Dr. Thompson had said, all those years ago.

They aren’t following you. He’d leaned towards me in his seat, dark eyes filled with compassion. I know… I know that your ex-boyfriend threatened you. But it’s been several years. Most likely, if he was going to do something, he would’ve done it by now.

I’m going to prescribe you something to help with panic attacks. You’re lucky you only hit the curb—you could get into a much more dangerous accident next time...

I was interrupted from my thoughts by the groan of the garage door opening.

I ran down the stairs, my heart racing. The familiar thump! of the garage door closing, then the swush of the fridge opening. I ran into the kitchen—

And stopped in my tracks.

The fridge door hung open, hiding Jack from view. All I could see were his brown leather shoes, sticking out from under the crack.

“… Jack?”

He didn’t reply.

“Jack!”

His foot took a step back. The side of his face slowly came into view around the side of the door. A tuft of dark hair, then an ear—

“Sowwee,” he said, gesturing to his full mouth. “I’m starbing.”

I collapsed into the kitchen chair. “Oh my God. You scared me.”

The fridge door shut. He swallowed. “Sorry. How was your day?”

“Fine. Just fine.” I forced a smile. “How was yours?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

I didn’t tell him about what I’d seen. But I had to ask—I had to know. “Hey, Jack, can I ask you something?” I got out my phone and pulled up the photo from Kasey’s birthday party. “That guy in the background. What is he doing?”

“Uh… we already talked about this yesterday. He’s hiding his face from the camera because he doesn’t want to be photographed or whatever.”

“Yes, but how? What exactly is he doing?”

Jack gave me a weird look. “He’s doing this,” he said. He raised his hands to his face, in the same peekaboo pose.

Fear shot through me. I grabbed his arms and pulled them away from his face. “Don’t do it!”

“Okay?” he said, uncertainly.

“Sorry. I just… nevermind.” I put away my phone and stood up. “I’m going to cook some pasta, I think. Want me to put on extra for you?”

“Sure.”

So I’m not imagining it, I thought, as I poured water into the pot. It’s not some weird hallucination or something. There is photographic evidence that at least one guy was hiding his face like that. At that moment, I wanted to tell Jack everything. But I couldn’t. Jack would no doubt just sigh and set up another appointment with Dr. Thompson.

I loved Jack, but that was the one thing I hated about him. Opening up to him often meant suggestions of appointments, or vacations, or books to read. Not just… engaging with me and trying to help me work through it.

The rest of the evening went okay, though. Mrs. Rose didn’t come to the door anymore, and Jack and I even had a nice dinner together. I eventually fell into a deep sleep, comforted by the sound of Jack breathing next to me.

***

I woke with a start.

The bedroom was dark. Shafts of moonlight fell through the curtains, falling on the soft bedding. I sucked in a breath and rolled over, reaching for Jack. But as my arm wrapped around his waist, I noticed something odd.

His arms weren’t splayed out straight in front of him, like they usually were. Instead, the elbows were bent…

My heart dropped.

“Jack?” I whispered.

He was still as a statue. Facing away from me. His chest slightly rising and falling with each breath.

“Jack!” I said, louder this time.

And then he did it. He rolled towards me, slowly.

My blood turned to ice.

He was hiding his face.

His hands were pressed against his face in that horrible weeping angels pose. He didn’t say anything—didn’t move—just lay there, facing me.

This close up, I realized—the slivers of darkness between his fingers. There was something horribly wrong with them. They looked too dark, even in the darkness of the bedroom. I couldn’t see the glint of his eyes, or any details of his face. Just… a black void.

I screamed.

His face slowly tilted up as I jumped out of the bed. As if he could see me between the cracks of his fingers.

I jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway. I could hear his footsteps behind me, creaking across the old wood. I stumbled down the stairs and ran through the kitchen. His bare feet slapped on the tile behind me. I ran into the garage, panting. Grabbed my keys and dove into my car.

I didn’t dare look at him as I peeled out of the driveway.

Part 3 Final