If You See Him Once, He Follows You (Part 2)

I haven’t seen the sun in four days. Hell, I haven’t so much as glimpsed outside since I saw the Gooweny-Ein. I’m afraid to even order a pizza, because I know if I open my door, he may be waiting behind it. Now that I’ve seen him, I’m cursed, so if I see him again - well, I try not to think about that. Truth is, I don’t even know what counts as “seeing” him as far as curse rules go. I know catching glimpses of his hat, suit, or shadow doesn’t seem to do anything, but what about a picture? The live camera feed from the lobby? A nightmare? Do those count? I try to keep him out of my mind, but he’s invading and latching on like a leech. Every shadow is him, every reflection, every thought. Physically, I may be safe for now, but mentally, he’s already inside, following me everywhere I go, which these days is just between the bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom.

My nerves are a wreck; I can’t even look in my fridge without shaking like a tuning fork. I need to plan my meals, though; I’ve been trying to ration my food to survive as long as possible. I guess I’m starting to sound like a doomsday prepper, and I am in a bunker, but how else can I survive? I grab myself some eggs to boil for lunch, or supper, or whatever meal this is. My sleep has been restless at best; I’ve lost all sense of time. After turning the oven on, I watch the water bubble and consider pouring it on my eyes. I’m safe if I can’t see, right?

A knock at the door interrupts me. The sudden sound makes me jump so high that I nearly knock the pot over. I catch my breath, then silently stand in my kitchen, pretending I’m not home. The knock comes again - louder this time - and then again, until I can’t take it anymore, “Go away! I’m busy!” I scream, but this only encourages more knocking.

On impulse, I put my hand over the doorknob and go to look through the peephole before I can think better of it. For a moment, I think I see something pale, with a long red line slashed across it. The glimpse is just a fraction of a second; my mind doesn’t even have time to process anything, but I fear it’s enough to doom me.

“Shit!” I exclaim as I jump back so fast that I lose my footing. Next thing I know, I’m on the ground, cowering in a ball, waiting for the Gooweny-Ein to come inside and kill me, or worse. I keep my eyes tightly shut, as if that might protect me. I suppose it’s a sort of toddler logic – if I can’t see what’s coming, it’s not there – it’s only after a minute or two that I gather my courage to look around. For now, I am alone.

Of course, he could just be taking his time and messing with me. For all I know, he’s waiting to strike the minute I let my guard down. Or, perhaps, for the Gooweny-Ein’s powers to work, I need to be consciously aware of what I’ve seen. That would explain how he can move through crowds without mass deaths occurring, wouldn’t it? Maybe, if you don’t process what you’re looking at, it doesn’t count? Heck, maybe the stories have it all wrong, and we have to make eye contact or something. In theory, that should mean pictures, film, and dreams are safe.

The joy of this realization has me bursting out in giggles. Being able to use a monitor would make surviving this whole ordeal feel way more tangible. But I know it can’t be that easy. I turn on my laptop to see if I can figure out what this creature’s rules are, so that I can devise some way to live with them. I’d tried looking up the Gooweny-Ein before, but every time I would notice an image starting to load, I would chicken out and snap the screen shut. After all, it could be a picture of him, couldn’t it? But, if I can look up some cases, maybe I can find clues on how to get through this.

Cases, I think, scoffing at my own stupidity. It’s not like the Gooweny-Ein is a murder suspect that police have been tracking for years. However, there may be reports of unusual deaths that I can link back to his handiwork.

As soon as I sign in, I’m inundated with email notifications. Most are from my workplace. I’ve excused my absence by playing sick, which has bought me a few days of grace, but my boss is starting to ask when I’ll be back and if I have a doctor’s note yet. There are a few emails from my ex-wife, Amy, too. The weekend is coming up, and according to the custody agreement, I’m supposed to have the kids. I want to see my Evie and Oliver more than anything, but obviously, I can’t have them around me; I can’t risk them being cursed, too. Thankfully, Amy has accepted my alleged poor health as an excuse to keep them away for now, but she’s already anxious to know what the plan is for next weekend – as if I can schedule my illnesses. Amy is usually a decent, intelligent person at heart, but she still has her ways of getting on my nerves, just as I’m sure I get on hers from time to time. Come to think of it, it’s probably for the best that we had our irreconcilable differences; while the divorce was hell, I'm glad I’m alone right now. If I weren’t, my whole family might be pulled into the same doom, sucking me under.

It's also fortunate that I broke up with my girlfriend, Stacey. She lives a few rooms down the hall from me, and we’d dated for nearly a year, but then two months ago, things started to shift. Something changed in her, or me, or maybe both of us, and we began to drift apart. Then, one night, words were said that we probably both regret – I know I sure as hell do – and she hasn’t spoken to me since. I’d really thought she was “the one” -or, I guess, the second one – but now she’s gone. Again, for the best, I guess.

I distract my thoughts away from my exes and children by scrolling through some news reports online. There were a few murders that might be attributed to the Gooweny-Ein.

In one, a man was found dead in a 14th-story apartment in Toronto. That death was labelled a suicide, but what’s odd is that two days later, the police officer in charge of reviewing the security tape killed his entire family with an axe before being gunned down by fellow officers. In another case, a woman in Detroit claimed that a monster was following her before attempting to chop off her own head with garden shears – but not before she stabbed her neighbour to death with them. She sent her sister a picture of the man who was allegedly stalking her, only for her sister to attack their parents with a chainsaw the following week. According to the police report, she cut herself in half when they arrived. So, pictures and film aren’t safe, then.

Where does that leave me? Do I sit on my couch till the Gooweny-Ein gets me, or until I starve to death? As I look around the rooms that had been my sanctuary and my cage for countless hours, I start to admonish myself for not decorating them more. It will make for a dull tomb. The floor, tile, and carpet are all that unobjectionable beige that covers everything these days, especially in rental units. All the furniture is basic gray IKEA stuff. I have posters and pictures in a cardboard box hidden somewhere in my closet – perhaps I could amuse myself for a few hours by putting them up. I need to keep occupied if I want to stay sane. Besides, having some photos of my kids around might be nice, since there’s a good chance that’s the only way I’ll ever see them again. God! What an awful thought!

Another knock comes at the door. This time, the knob rattles so hard I think it might dislodge and bounce around my apartment. “Go away!” I yell, and to my shock, it seems to listen. This puts me on edge more than the ruckus does; I’m not exactly used to the Gooweny-Ein being obedient. A few minutes later, though, there is another knock.

“Leave me alone!” I yell again.

“Are you okay? I haven’t seen you in days.” The colour drains from my face. It's Stacey.

“Fuck.” I mutter under my breath before I call out, “I’m fine, just sick”. God! I hope she’ll leave for her own sake.

“Okay,” Stacey replies, sounding entirely unconvinced. “I just – I hope you’re doing well.” I can sense her waiting at the door for a response, but what the hell am I supposed to say? I can’t be honest with her, as that might keep her around and lure her into further peril. I hold my breath as I sense her turn to leave. Then, to my horror, I hear a thudding sound as if she’d fallen back against the wooden door, followed by a loud, pure scream of terror.

In an instant, I knew she’d seen the Gooweny-Ein.