Part One
“Had I known I was going to be having guests at two am, I would’ve tidied up”. I meant it to be sarcastic or snipey, maybe a little passive aggressive, but he either didn’t notice, or pretended not to.
“No need”, he said. “It’s just me. I’m certainly not the picky type.”
“I wouldn’t know...” I responded, not looking to be particularly polite to this strange man who had just shown up on my door. He was tall, I suppose, and pale, with pitch black hair that he had neatly combed to the side. His features might have been almost pleasant, but there was something off about him. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. He gave the impression of someone who was most definitely coming to turn your life upside down, one way or the other.
But that was probably just me being silly again.
“Pardon?” he said.
“I said, ‘I wouldn’t know’. We aren’t friends. Who are you and what do you think you’re doing on my doorstep in the middle of the night?”
He checked his watch. A nice little trinket, really, if you’re into that kind of thing. Gold with specks of some black substance that looked like obsidian. To a collector, it would have been a fine piece to have on your shelves. The type of thing you lord over people and force them to behold with no real intention of ever selling it. A nice watch, really.
But I’ve never been one for gold.
“Is it really two o’clock? I do apologize. Time of day has never mattered much to me.” He caught me staring at his watch. “You like that, do you?”
I didn’t like his debonair tone, so I was not hesitant in replying, “Actually, no. Not at all. The color is appalling. Not to mention, it’s rather loud for a wristwatch.” I had just noticed a faint ticking sound emanating from the watch. Funny that I hadn’t noticed earlier.
“Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose it is. Although, my hosts are always far more bothered by it than I am. I can hardly hear it, but to them, it seems astonishingly loud”.
What an odd thing to say. I hadn’t known this man for five minutes and already, I couldn’t stand him. Of all the doors in London, why did he have to choose mine? I felt inclined to shut him out right there and was about to close the door when he stopped me.
“What I guess I mean to say is, I’ve gotten used to it.” And here he smiled a great, open-mouthed smile. There wasn’t anything particularly wrong with his smile. On a friend or grandfather, it may have seemed sweet and endearing. On a lover or husband, it may have seemed handsome. But the way the smile looked against his pale face and deep red lips... It looked like a smear of blood on bedsheets. And his eyes, well, there was something sinister, almost evil, in those small, beady eyes. I noticed they didn’t have irises, just large, black pupils. Funny that it seems something I should have noticed sooner. I must have been terribly tired.
Anyway, there was something about that smile that seemed to compel me. Any idea I had of shutting him out suddenly seemed ludicrous. He appeared to me at that moment just any kind visitor, stopping by for a cup of tea.
So I didn’t close the door. Instead, I opened it wider.
