#superfek

There was a knock on the door again.

You got up from the chair as silently as you could and took your revolver into your hand. How many bullets had you left? Not many, excluding the one you kept in your back pocket for... let's say, in case you did not have any other options anymore.

"H-Hello..?" said a raspy voice from the other side of the hall, behind the door. It sounded like the owner of it was trying to soften it, forcing it into this high-pitched muttering that his throat was not used to. "Is...Is anyone there?"

You knew who it was before you even peeked outside, even though you hoped that you were wrong. It had been such a long time since you had seen a normal human being, yet, even now, you couldn't help but...

On your tiptoes, you slowly reached to the peeping hole and leaned in to see who it was.

You saw a man, his arms around his waist, shivering against a thick coat. He was hunched down, his spine strangely curled inward as if he didn't know how to move his own body anymore, and his clothes looked a few sizes too small for him. He kept his head down, too, and his blue-looking face was obscured by his own, thin, oily black hair that fell over his forehead.

Whoever this was, you knew this thing was not a human.

You put your finger over the trigger, just in case. "...What do you want?"

Despite looking like he had a timid nature, the sudden noise coming from the homeowner did not surprise the stranger."Sorry for bothering you, but...I'm just looking for a quiet place to rest. Might I find some p-p-peace in your home?"

As if, you thought.

"Why are you wearing all that?" you rather asked. "It's hot as fuck these days. Are you not sweating?"

The man made a weird noise, as if he was just about to snort but tried to hide it behind a cough at the last second. "I-I feel really cold, actually," he said, his face still facing down. "M-may I-I-I come in, please...?"

You had this weird, empty feeling in your stomach. At this point, you weren't sure if it was because of hunger or fear anymore, but did it matter? It was probably both, anyway.

"Cut the crap," you barked, then, and checked the locks on the door again. You had not opened it in months, not since the little girl who had come to ask for his father, yet you still feared that you might have left it open somehow, maybe because you did it yourself while sleeping-walking, or perhaps someone managed to pick it open without waking you up, in hopes of ambushing you and kicking you out of your own home.

Yeah, you knew it yourself, this sounded crazy. But, was it really out of the question when the Sun was burning the Earth into a crisp, with your neighbors burning alive, and the rest getting killed by whatever the hell had crawled out of the dirt?

At this point, everything was possible.

That...that thing had made sure of that, that you knew it.

"W-what are you talking about?" The man said, playing with his collar. "I don't get what you—"

"I fucking know it's you," you cut him off again, and banged your hand against the door frame hard enough to rattle the ringer outside. Why? Why did this thing, this monster, have to toy with you? What did he get from this? Why didn't he just leave you alone? "I am not opening the door for you, so you might as well fuck off."

The thing stayed silent for a moment, then chuckled. "Aww, I thought you would have actually fallen for this one."

You watched as he straightened himself and saw the way the bag of skin he had forced over his own face was stretched so hard that you could see his own deadly-pale skin peeking out from the holes of the eyes and mouth like a cheap mask.

How many times had he tried to trick you with this facade? You weren't sure anymore, but at least six or maybe even seven. You had stopped counting after what he did to your neighbor who was living at the other side of the field.

First was the guy with the wires all over his mouth.

Then came that weird ballerina-looking woman.

At the third, he had tried to wear a fat man's skin. He had said he was the ex-minister or something.

Fourth, he caught a bearded old huntsman. He sounded unusually infuriated and cruel with that one, and that's how you had figured out it was him.

And the last one you remembered was that red-haired woman. She would have been beautiful if her body hadn't been emptied out and worn like a sock puppet, a seductress, even.

None of these attempts had worked out, because no matter what body he found himself in, his own was far too big and crooked to fit in anyone else's.

And thank God for that.

...Not that it had ever made him stop, that stubborn son of a bitch.

"What a shame," he tsk'ed, and peeled off his 'face' with a sickening sound. It reminded you of that one time you had to clean a chicken that a farmer had given you a few years ago, with all the feathers and all still intact. Never did it again, after that.

You watched him throw it to the side, and it landed onto your porch with a wet splat, making your insides go all horribly mushy. Great. You hoped the sun would burn it away, or else it would rot there until a mut came to eat it. "I really had thought this fella would have been your taste. Was I wrong?"

"He would have," you said. "If you hadn't skinned the poor guy like a fish."

"Awww, did you know him?" The pale man chuckled at you and leaned towards the peeping hole as if he, as well, could see you from the other side. "He wasn't your friend, I hope?"

You couldn't help but shudder. No matter how many times you did it, the way he stopped the act and changed always made you terrified.

Was this how your last days were really going to be? This thing's plaything?

"Why are you doing this?" You asked instead of answering him. Thankfully, you hadn't known him. At least, this way, his death didn't affect you as much, however terrible that sounded. "How long are you going to continue with this charade?"

You had gotten used to it, at least. To the corpses lying around all around your window view, and the stench of death that accompanied them, all thanks to this creature that was outside your door.

What a horrible way to find out that the saying "humans can adapt to anything" was actually true.

The visitor hummed, as if he was actually considering what to say. Then, he shrugged, "Until you open this door, I suppose."

You almost sobbed. Almost. You were not going to give him the satisfaction of letting him hear you cry. That could wait until the sun came and you crawled into your bed with your face buried in your too-old pillow. "I told you that won't happen."

"Are you sure?" He asked and then grinned. His teeth were perfectly white and aligned. "You don't have much food left, do you? And even less water, I presume?"

You scoffed, "So what? I should let you kill me instead of letting starvation or thirst take me?"

"Who said anything about killing you?" He said, and rolled his eyes. "So dramatic, you are."

"What else would you do? Throw me a tea party?"

"I got you something," he said instead, and you watched as he dragged something from his left to your point of view and put it in front of the door. It kinda looked like a rucksack, but you couldn't be sure from this angle. "Why don't you take a look?"

"Hell no," you were quick to refuse. "Knowing your sick sense of humor, it's probably something like a bag of shit or intestines, anyway."

"Aww, do you really trust me that little?"

"I can still see the heads of those FEMA guys outside my window."

"No soldier ever came to bother you after that, though, yes?" He asked, his head tilted to the side, and looking strangely proud."That is good, yes?"

That was true. No one from the government, or anyone, really, had dared to come to your property ever since he had put those heads on spikes near your home.

...You weren't sure if that was a blessing or a curse just yet, even though, even when things were normal, you never had been a social butterfly and avoided people like a little gremlin anyway.

"...And what do you plan to do with me if I come out? Skin me, too? Or will you just break my neck and do whatever the hell visitors do?"

"No, no, I won't, don't worry. Your skin looks better on you, anyway," he joked.

"That doesn't sound as reassuring as you think it is, big guy."

"Hmm," he said, thoughtful, and glanced at something at the back. "You are alone, correct?"

"...No, I'm not," you lied, not skipping a beat. "There's a nun sleeping on my couch right now, actually."

He shook his head like a disappointed father, as if he already knew that this was going to be your answer. "Lying is a bad habit, you know?"

"So is eating people."

"It's a beautiful night outside," he said, then, and looked up. "No clouds, just the moon and some stars. Nice view. Come take a look."

You sighed, suddenly so tired. How many times were you going to have the same conversation? "You've been at it for months, now. Why do you want me to come out this badly?"

"Perhaps I am lonely?"

"I'll go back to my bed if you don't take me seriously."

"I could just break the door, you know." He pointed out and scratched the door with his nails as if to make a point. "It would be very easy."

"Why don't you, then?!" You snapped back. "Why don't you just...do whatever the hell you are planning, and stop with this torment?! Or do you just enjoy making me suffer?"

There was a silence for a moment, then he chuckled again, "...You are not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?"

You couldn't help but get offended. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's make a deal, then?" He ignored you. "For this night only. You don't shoot me, I won't kill you. Just for tonight."

"...And then what?"

"And then the Sun comes, and you go back inside." He shrugged. "Why does everything have to have a reason with you?"

You didn't answer.

"Do you wanna know what I got you?" He reminded you of the rucksack again and nudged it with his feet. It sounded heavy, which was not reassuring at all. Only nice things, I promise."

You sighed, rested your back against the door, let yourself fall, and sat on the floor, resting your head against the slightly cooled wood. It was unusual for you not to face him, but, indeed, it did not feel like you were in immediate danger as of now. "...What did you get me?"

"I visited the neighbor's house," he said. "Burned down for most, but still good things were there. Cans and bottles, oil, and rice, and flour. Even some beer. A bit charred, all, but still edible."

Your eyes widened, actually caught off guard for the first time ever since the day he appeared in front of your door. "You got me...food?"

The visitor shrugged, as if it only made sense."You need it to live, yes? You can't leave, and no one came. This means you only got so much left before it's over for you."

You slightly tugged at your hair, thoughtful.

He was right, with this rate, your rations would soon be gone, and you would have either be forced to leave at night in hopes of finding something near the town, all the way down from the hill, or just sleep, ignoring the pain, until you inevitably died.

You were actually in the process of deciding which option was the better one.

You licked your dry lips, considering his offer.

Yeah, you were actually that desperate.

...And, since you were at the end of the road, anyway, and even now, still far too afraid to pull the trigger yourself when you had nothing left to lose anymore, and no hope that things would get better...would it be that bad, to let someone else finish you instead, if it came to that?

"...You actually won't do anything if I come out?" You asked him. "What? We'll just...talk or something?"

"Like I said many times now," the visitor sighed. "I won't do anything to you. Just share some company, that's all."

You couldn't help but snort, "So even you guys get lonely, huh?"

"...You could say so, I suppose," He hummed, knocking once, twice, thrice on the door. "Does this mean you'll come out?"

You didn't answer him, just got up, pulled the key from your pocket, and shoved it inside the lock. Your heart started to beat faster, then. Were you being stupid? Probably. No, most likely.

Still, you opened the door and slowly pushed it open.

You heard the creature that had haunted you for months now take a step back to let you out, and loom over you as he finally was able to get a proper look at you.

God, you thought, feeling your heart drop to your stomach with an exhilarating horror. You had only seen him from a distance, or from the peephole, but from this close, you could see with clarity how unevenly stretched his skin was all over his body. So large, too, as if his lungs didn't fit his chest. And as if that wasn't enough, he had wire-esque arms, twice as long as yours.

No wonder none of those FEMA soldiers were able to take him down thus far.

It was mind-boggling to think that this creature was a human, once.

His grin stretched against his face when he finally got to see you, and he almost looked like he was baring his teeth like a dog, giddy, and perhaps even delighted.

"Ahhh...." he said, and got a bit closer to you. You felt your heart skip a beat, though you couldn't tell from what anymore. You felt so small against him. "It's nice to finally meet, isn't it? You look so much better up this close, I think."

"I..I, uh," you stuttered, as he slammed the door shut behind you, his huge hand next to your face. It was too late to regret this now, wasn't it? "Yeah, I guess, n-nice to meet you..?"

He chuckled, amused by your nervousness, and took your hand. It was cold and stiff, like a dead man's.

"Let's take a walk, then? Nice weather, isn't it? Not so hot, a bit of breeze. There won't be such a nice night for a while after this, I think."

"But, what if another—" visitor, you couldn't say, "thing attacks us?"

"Don't you worry," he cooed at you. He managed to make it both sound comforting and condescending. "I am strong, I will protect you. Now, come on."