Part 1 . Part 3

Since I've last spoken to you, three more people have disappeared.

Gone. Just vanished without a trace.

The first was Mrs Moretti, a sweet little old Italian woman who lived next-door. Every so often she would invite me into her home for a meal.

"You look so thin!" She would say, "Come! Come, my figlio. I will feed you up with good food."

As I would eat a delicious plate of lasagna, she would recount tales of life in the 1950's. Of boyfriend's and partying and occasional law-breaking. Over time I had grown to love her like a grandma. I could count on her in an emergency, and she could count on me.

But now she was gone. Just like the rest.

I looked outside my window to a young couple who seemed to have taken residence in her house overnight. Of course, they say they have been in this house for three years now, which is before even I moved in. They seem happy, and they tell me that they are expecting a child anytime soon. What I hate the most is the fact that they know my name, and I don't know theirs. It creeps me out.

T.J was the second person to go. He was 17 years old and a co-worker of mine. When he first got the job, he seemed shy and introverted. He looked to have a good-work ethic, so I decided to take him under my wing and train him up. After a couple of weeks of bonding, he opened up to me about his life. He told me that this was his first job and that he enjoyed it more then he thought he would. He also told me that he was a closeted gay, and he was too scared to tell his parents, in case they reacted badly. T.J looked up to me and I felt more like an older brother to him then a co-worker.

Then he disappeared as well.

The third person was my younger sister, Isobel. Her birth had come as a surprise to both of my parents. Nevertheless, they were overjoyed to find out that they were having a girl. Right from the get-go she was bright and bubbly, she was confident and very strong-willed. She was always excited to see me when I visited. And I, of course, loved her to bits.

That's why her disappearance hurt me the most.

I suppose she's the reason I started writing. I bought a notebook and started filling it up with all I could remember about the missing people. Height, hair colour, favourite food, biggest pet peeves, pretty much everything I could think of went into this journal. I wrote about my personal experiences with them and generally what I thought about them. Everyone else had forgotten them, and I sure as hell didn't want too either.

I've also been recording my observations about what's going on. Once a person disappears, everything they have ever done either vanishes or is replaced. For example, when Isobel disappeared all family photos have stayed the same, except for one key difference- she's not in them. Her room had been converted into what my parents called an 'exercise room' filled with workout equipment. All of Isobel's toys and clothes had vanished. It was like she had never even set foot on the earth.

I don't think my sanity would have made it if it wasn't for Meg. She was my girlfriend for a period of about 2 years. We had broken up because she had wanted to take it a step further. She wanted to get engaged, to travel the world together, and to eventually start a family. While I do admit that sounded nice, I just wasn't ready. I told her to give me a couple of months, to see how things go. While I could see I had broken her heart, with a bit of nudging she had eventually agreed and we left on good terms.

That was three months ago. Then all this happened.

After I had texted her about Eric, my apparently non-existent roommate, she had called me the next day.

"Daniel, what is going on with you?" She had said.

"I...don't really know."

"Please tell me. You sound distraught. I just want to help."

Well, I might as well. I had thought.

And so I told her about everything. About how she used to have an older brother. About how I used to have a younger sister. About Eric, T.J, and Mrs Moretti. I told her it all. And she had listened. But most importantly, she had believed me. She didn't call me crazy or tell me to go see a doctor. It's like she understood.

And I loved her for it. We were getting closer together than ever before. We would go on walks together and just enjoy each other's company. She had stopped bugging me about popping the question, and had just let things be. We had started going on back on date's again, making me realise just how much I missed her.

Life was good.

Well, as good as it can be when everyone you know and love start vanishing from the face of the earth.

But now for the reason I'm writing this:

You see, I think I'm in more danger than I originally thought. Yesterday afternoon, when coming home from work I went to the bathroom to relieve myself. What I saw chilled me to the bone. Written in a blood-like substance on my bathroom mirror was this message:

'REPENT AND BE FORGIVEN

SIN AND BE FORGOTTEN'

I stood there for what felt like an eternity in silent fear. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. This was wrong. This shouldn't be happening. After a while, primal instincts took over and I bolted out of that room.

It took some time to muster the courage to go back. The writing was still there, and I definitely wasn't dreaming. After the initial shock, I took a closer look at the writing. What I assumed was blood, was in fact blood. No surprises there. But then I read the message again. What stood out to me was the 'be forgotten' part. That's exactly what happened to Isobel, Eric and all those other people. They were forgotten.

This could only mean one thing. There was something out there, who had written this message. There was something out there who wanted me to repent, or else. There was something out there, causing the disappearances.

And now it was coming for me.