#0190502

I need your help. If this goes on any longer, I won’t even be myself anymore. You deal with this sort of stuff, don’t you? If i give you my story, you have to help me do something. Please. I can’t bear to lose anymore.

I used to have a name. Leo isn’t my actual name, just a pseudonym I picked up to replace what I lost. That was the first thing it took from me.

It seemed normal at first. When I walked into that cafe, there it was, guiding me to a table and taking my order. Such a youthful face and kind eyes, despite the medical mask on its face - I think I just assumed it was sick or fearful of catching germs, something like that.

When I saw it I was, admittedly, quite smitten. And when it showed interest in me, you can bet I lapped up its attention eagerly. It’s not every day a handsome stranger compliments you.

I started visiting the cafe more and more as an excuse to see it again. I’m pretty sure it knew right off the bat, but if it did, it pretended it didn’t. I think it enjoyed watching me try to flag it down and it alone, just so I could hear its voice when it asked for my order in a giggly tone. Eventually, I worked up the courage to ask it out. I was disappointed when it said it had to think about it, but that was quickly remedied when it asked for my number. My number! I was over the moon. I was getting the person of my dreams, and they liked me back! That was impressive; I’d never had luck like this before. I eagerly gave it to it, and it promised it’d get back to me. Said it couldn’t wait to have me.

Maybe I should’ve paid attention to the way it said that. Couldn’t wait to have me. Have me for what? I thought - forgive me for my immature thoughts - that it couldn’t wait to have me as, like, a boyfriend. That made me very excited.

Our first date was to the park. Kind of boring, but I was so excited to spend time with it that I didn’t care. We hit it off perfectly. I couldn’t believe I’d found someone who understood me so well! Everything seemed very normal, in a too good to be true kind of way.

We were talking about The Phantom of the Opera when it took my name. You know how the Count wears that half-mask, the one that obscures half his face, so you can’t see him for who he completely is?

Hilarious, isn’t it?

Suddenly, out of the blue, it said in that laughing voice:

“Could I get your name?”

So I told it what my name was.

As soon as I did, something felt wrong. I stopped in my tracks, staring into the distance as it just… watched me with the most appraising expression. Like it was laughing.

With a crinkle of its eyes, it patted me on the shoulder, and bid me goodbye. Then it left. And I left standing there, suddenly realizing that something was wrong.

I couldn’t remember my name.

I was so confused. How do you just- forget your name? You don’t! It’s an intrinsic part of you that you can’t remove. Yet here I was, floundering around in the park, getting weird stares from passersby, unable to remember who I was.

First I was reeling. Then… then I was scared.

That thing that I was talking to earlier. It asked my name. It said “could I get your name?” And as soon as I told it, I couldn’t remember it anymore. I certainly don’t believe in fairies, but this… was exactly like those stories of changelings and pixies.

That thing took my name. It took who I was. No, it didn’t take what I’d done - I could remember everything I’d done until now, but not once in any of those memories did I have a name.

It came and took who I was. I had no name. I had nothing. I was nothing.

And that scared me so, so badly.

After that, I didn’t go back to the cafe again. Why would I, when that thing was there? Surely it’d take more from me if I went. But everywhere I went in the city, I’d see it. I’d see it standing there on the sidewalk, its eyes taunting me from above its mask. I’d see it in bookstores, its fingers tapping gently on the shelves. It watched me, it knew where I was. It was waiting to take more and I knew it.

Oh, and it wanted more.

Last night, it texted me. Three weeks, and out of the blue, a text.

“Could I have your face?”

So innocent, so unassuming, yet I know exactly what it means.

I know that thing will come again, and it’ll peel the skin off my face. I know it’ll skin me alive and wear me like a pelt, my flaccid limbs waving as it pulls me over its head. I know it’ll wear my name and pretend to be me, pretend to do as I do and walk as I walk. And all the while it’ll smile, those eyes gleefully twinkling with mirth, as it becomes me.

You have to help me. You have to do something, anything. Please, I’m begging you.

Do something, before it takes everything.

FOLLOW-UP NOTES

- God. I’m getting a bit sick of the skin-snatching statements. You can only read so much of this sort of thing before nightmares start up.

- Since there’s a complete lack of reliable personal details in this statement, it makes follow-up rather difficult. The rules the creature seems to follow in this statement cannot be applied to the Skinsnatcher, so the monster described in this statement most likely isn’t Natasha.