GIDEON WAS ALMOST certain the light purple sheets were made from a high-quality Egyptian cotton. They had the woven texture of a finer softer thread. Definitely picked by hand. He would expect nothing less from a high-end luxury hotel. The wallpaper, on the other hand, was very confusing. A glossy black with incongruent accents of gold fleck, it was ten to fifteen years past being in style. According to Gideon’s research, the hotel had undergone a full renovation five years ago. In his mind, this wallpaper should have been the first thing to go. Cecily’s social media post was already two hours old by the time Gideon came to this conclusion.
The caption above Cecily’s most recent post read, “Dreaming in Lilac on a Cool Evening.” Gideon didn’t give it much thought. Neither had the twenty-two thousand followers who had already liked it. Gideon figured Cecily’s latest photo would hit a hundred thousand before leveling off; she still wasn’t a major star in the influencer world. At the moment, she only had 151,000 followers. To Gideon, her low-level celebrity status brought with it intimacy and accessibility. However, her popularity was steadily rising, bringing in more followers and bigger promotions every week. It was only a matter of time before that intimacy and accessibility vanished. The thought of it twisted a knife in Gideon’s gut.
With one more deep breath, the anxiety attack that drew his attention to the comforter and wallpaper had run its course. Gideon could now go back to studying Cecily’s face. It was his favorite feature. Her face was perfectly arranged. Every contour and line was a display of flawless symmetry. It was a sight that brought tears to his eyes.
That was what made Gideon different. Most of Cecily’s male followers spent their time ogling her body. They filled the comments section with rude and lascivious remarks. Gideon found their observations disgusting. The way they described in graphic detail the horrid sexual acts they would perform on her, it made Gideon want to vomit. Most of them were pulled down by the site’s moderators almost immediately. Gideon made sure to jot down the usernames of repeat offenders, should the need for his intervention arise. Cecily didn’t deserve to be hounded by that type of depravity.
Gideon found it hard to believe anyone could be as disgusting as those folks were. How could anyone look into Cecily’s deep brown eyes and have such terrible thoughts? Gideon considered them a true brown that all other shades were born from, as though this honest hue only existed for Cecily. Her brown eyes were a truth she was kind enough to share with Gideon. The eyes shared with him both her joy and sadness. Her eyes exposed a loneliness in the way the light reflected off their moist surface. Even her thin smile couldn’t belie the sadness. Her eyes never lied to Gideon.
A thousand reasons for her sadness crept through Gideon’s mind, and with each one a solution only he could provide. Dwelling on those thoughts was enough to send Gideon into a panic attack. Gideon didn’t handle panic attacks very well. Sometimes they made him act recklessly. He’d put a lot of effort and planning into the next few days. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. He couldn’t let them ruin his plans. Taking a deep breath, Gideon closed his eyes and cleared his mind as best he could. A small voice in the back of his head told him to look away, to just close his laptop and go to bed before he ruined everything, but Cecily’s photo was making that too difficult to do. It was as though she was trying to distract him from his plan.
Maybe she was testing him.
In the photo, Cecily was lying on her side atop the light purple Egyptian cotton sheets. The hotel’s complimentary bathrobe hung off her shoulder to reveal just the right portion of her left breast, just enough hidden to keep from violating the platform’s policies regarding nudity. Gideon figured she was only a half centimeter from violating those policies. For a moment, he thought he could see the slightest bit of pink, but he knew Cecily was too careful to let that happen. She would never risk losing her sponsors or having her account taken down.
Gideon felt a sudden piercing pain behind his eyes. His mother always said a headache like this came from staring at filthy pictures on his computer for too long. Even now he could hear her voice and the way she would say that word. He couldn’t even think of the word “filthy” without hearing her say it. Gideon knew this was just something that happened when he stared at one spot on his screen for too long. His retinas screamed for him to shift his focus and relieve the strain, but Gideon waited for the nausea to set in before moving his eyes to another part of his screen. Focusing on her long brown hair quelled the nausea, but the headache was only slightly abated.
Propped up on her elbow, the photo gave Cecily’s hair the illusion of greater length. In reality, it went six inches past her shoulder, but in this position, traveling down her upper arm before pooling into gentle curls on the sheets, it looked much longer. Gideon wondered what those wisps of fine brown strands must have felt like against her soft, smooth skin. He wanted to know if her scent still lingered on those Egyptian cotton sheets. Gideon took another deep breath.
Studying the gentle contours of her body, he caught a glimpse of a small dark pattern affixed to the soft skin of her arm. His face inches from the screen, he could see the freshly scarred flesh, red and swollen. In the swelling, black vertical hash marks of varying length. The longest of the lines was no more than half an inch, the shortest measuring roughly an eighth. It was hard to see how many; they were too thin and too tightly packed together. A fresh tattoo, not more than a few days old.
Cecily didn’t strike him as the type of person to get a tattoo. As far as he knew, this was her only one. Gideon wasn’t really a huge fan of tattoos. He remembered the snide comments his mother used to make whenever she used to see someone with one, but she had a snide comment for nearly everyone she saw. There was never a shortage of styles, trends or quirks that bothered her. Gideon figured as long as Cecily was happy with her new tattoo, then he could be happy with it, too.
Through the large picture window behind her was the Los Angeles skyline at night. Her room was high enough to capture most of the city facing west toward the ocean. She had posted a similar photo of her room a couple of days ago. It made finding the hotel she was staying at so much easier. The floor number was a bit trickier to triangulate, but Gideon was confident she was staying on the twenty-first floor. Just to the right of center. He’d know the right room once he was up there.
Removing his glasses and placing them on the table next to his laptop, Gideon stood and stretched. Five hours of sitting on his motel room’s thinly padded chair had done a number on his joints. They popped with each twist and pull. Gideon rubbed his eyes as he made his way over to the window. His view wasn’t quite the same as Cecily’s. His room was on the top floor of a cheap two-story motel, the view obstructed by an old three-story abandoned factory across the street. Gideon’s room faced east toward Cecily’s. From here, he was at least looking in her direction even if all he could see were broken windows and crumbling brick.
He took one last look at Cecily’s photo before closing his laptop, then removing his underwear and sliding into bed. Lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling, he rehearsed conversations in his head about thousands of possible topics. All of them very real and plausible subjects that could come up in conversation at any time. This was his one shot at impressing her, at proving how perfect they were for each other. To practice, Gideon spoke at a low volume, just enough for him to get the inflections and tone just right. When the two of them finally spoke to each other, Gideon wanted every reply and inflection to be flawless.
Drifting out of practiced conversation, Gideon’s mind wandered to her photo. It was burned into him, still there when his eyes were closed. As Cecily lay on her side, her stomach was smooth and flat. In its center, Cecily’s belly button was a narrow slit delicately placed in the single vertical crease of her muscular abdomen. Not far below, the two halves of her bathrobe came together, united by a hastily tied bow. Gideon imagined the slightest bit of effort it would take to undo. Just beneath the bow, the robe separated once more, revealing a triangular shadow in their parting. Gideon’s thoughts lingered here for a moment longer before drifting to the soft skin of her long, slender legs, which she had brazenly exposed to him. Looking up, he saw her face as it hovered above him, framed by her beautiful silken hair. It brushed delicately across his cheeks. Cecily’s deep brown eyes gazing down at him before succumbing to the pleasure of having him inside her. Her eyes closed, her mouth an open expression of ecstasy.
Gideon’s body convulsed for a brief second before his stomach quickly seized with guilt. Gideon cursed his base desires and his disgusting lack of control. Cecily deserved better. She deserved someone who wasn’t so filthy. Gideon winced as he rolled onto his side. Curling into a ball, he pulled his knees to his chest, wishing he could squeeze the remorse from his body. Staring out the window in the direction of her hotel room, Gideon could only see the building across the street. Maybe she was looking out her window too, staring out in his direction. Taking in a few more deep breaths, he relaxed his grip on his knees as he straightened out his body. After tomorrow, everything would be right. Tomorrow they’d be together.
The sun topped the building across the street and cut a harsh light through Gideon’s motel window. On the sidewalks below, junkies slept in interrupted intervals as the morning withdrawal set in. Their irate slurred curses and desperate tears echoed off the concrete labyrinth of buildings all around them. A few blocks away, a car blared its horn, initiating a symphony from an ensemble of vehicles behind him. The thin motel windows did little to dampen the cacophony of morning in Downtown Los Angeles.
Gideon did his best to shut out the din. He had problems with loud noises, which triggered his anxiety. Sometimes it got so bad Gideon would nearly black out. His doctor said it was a type of misophonia, an extreme sensitivity to loud noises. He told Gideon to take deep breaths and focus on something specific when it got really bad. His mother told Gideon it was because he was just a big coward. Gideon laughed to himself, wondering what his doctor would have said if he knew his mother’s voice was his biggest trigger. Gideon now practiced his breathing as he brushed his teeth. The noise would barely reach Cecily’s lofty room. Her hotel windows were probably a lot thicker.
His hair was still wet from the shower, and Gideon wondered if it was cut too short. He had only seen a couple of men in Cecily’s photos. They were traditionally handsome with strong jaws and muscular physiques, but they dressed poorly, with hairstyles that were purposely messy. They were what Gideon’s mother would refer to as “slovenly.”
Those relationships never lasted very long. They made it into one or two photos at the most. With Cecily, looks could take them only so far. That’s what made Gideon different. His face was rounder, his jaw weaker, his body softer, but there was more to Gideon than just his looks. Cecily would see that. She’d know. Besides, Cecily promoted a lot of health products, and several of her posts were dedicated to her exercise routine. Her healthy lifestyle was bound to rub off on Gideon. He’d probably be reluctant at first—there were a lot of bad habits Gideon would need help with—but he’d eventually come around.
A familiar sound from Gideon’s phone drew his attention to the device, which was resting next to the sink. It was an alert, a special tone he had set to inform him whenever Cecily posted something new. On instinct, Gideon had his phone in hand, checking to see what had just gone up. Entering his security code with nervous anticipation reminded Gideon how much he preferred the simplicity of using his laptop. Getting his phone open and scrolling to the right app with all this nervous anticipation was incredibly difficult on such a small device. Gideon’s brawny fingers didn’t make it any easier either, even in the best of circumstances.
Cecily’s latest post already had five likes. Gideon cursed his fat fingers for making it take so long. He always tried to be the first like to go up. After she posted something new, there was a better chance that she was still on her computer with the app open. Being one of the first likes gave him a greater chance of being noticed. Gideon figured after about five or ten likes Cecily would lose interest in the minutiae of the post, checking in later just to see its overall success. He liked knowing she saw his name first.
After at least making sure he was the sixth person to press the like button, Gideon took a deep calming breath before feasting on Cecily’s latest photo. She must have woken up around the same time as Gideon. Her towel was tightly wrapped around her freshly showered body like a form-fitting minidress. Cecily’s breasts were modest in size. Gideon thought of them as pleasant, but then, Gideon didn’t possess a large vocabulary when it came to describing a woman’s chest. In this photo, their size was striking. The towel compressing them to such a degree, threatening to push them out and over the top, that it made Gideon dizzy. At the same time, the bottom proved to be barely long enough to cover what Gideon’s mother would call “a woman’s sin.”
Cecily’s hair was soaking wet, hanging in damp clumps down the side of her face. Her arms and legs still had a sheen of moisture to them. She stood by her hotel room window, holding a croissant in her hand. The sun rising on the opposite side of the building gave just enough light to the city skyline behind her. The caption read, “Morning Vibes.” Her new tattoo was slightly more visible in this photo. He could now see that the lines that composed it occupied about three inches of horizontal space on Cecily’s upper arm. The lines formed a pattern that reminded Gideon of the sound waves on his doctor’s laptop. The sound waves his doctor would play to test Gideon’s auditory condition.
Gideon put down his phone. He didn’t have time to get wrapped up in that right now. He was about to see her in person, and there would always be time to look at it later. He looked at his hair one more time. It wasn’t too short, Gideon assured himself as he slicked his hair to the side with the palm of his hand. Gideon tossed his dark gray jacket over his shoulder as he stepped out of his room with a confident stride to his step.
The bus ride over to Cecily’s hotel made his stomach twist up in knots. When he formulated this plan, he had imagined that he’d find a seat on the bus. He hadn’t anticipated the morning rush hour. Breathing deeply, Gideon clung tightly to the overhead rail, trying to convince himself it was just a tiny inconvenience, but he could feel his fellow passengers’ eyes on him. He tried ignoring their beady-eyed glares, but he could still feel each one of them burrowing into his brain. How many were already reading his mind? How many of them knew already? Gideon hoped his counterfeit security badge would avert most of their eyes. He hoped it would be a shield against their piercing looks, but it didn’t seem to be working. Keeping up his breathing, Gideon repeatedly told himself not to dwell. It was only a ten-minute bus ride to her hotel, but if they hit traffic, Gideon was sure he was going to collapse into a screaming heap on the floor.
Just eleven minutes after stepping onto the Eastbound 31 Local, Gideon found himself standing on the sidewalk a block from Cecily’s hotel. Getting off the bus was a blur compounded by the sounds of the busy city street. Enclosed by elegant high-rises and beautifully refurbished historic buildings that seemed to bounce the noise and confusion back and forth in every direction, Gideon’s head gyrated. He struggled for air, his vision narrowing into a tightly packed tunnel. An intense wave of confusion fell over him. The city assaulting every sense, Gideon stumbled as his legs failed to keep him upright.
Purpose escaping him, he wanted nothing more than to be on the ground begging for mercy, seeing himself lying on the filthy pavement while annoyed commuters stepped over his bloated nuisance of a body. Crying like a baby for his mother to save him. His head continued to spin in uncontrollable circles, each one overlapping the other, sending him further into confusion. His stomach churning, Gideon knew it was only a matter of time before he was a heaping vomitous mess on the sidewalk. He heard his mother’s venomous words echoing through him. Her raspy voice hurling its insults and obscenities at him.
Suddenly, he felt something hard, round and metallic in his grasp. He squeezed it tightly, willing his other hand to take hold as well, his knuckles turning white in his unrelenting grasp. His eyes began to focus; he could see the metal signpost in his hand. A mercy his subconscious brain managed to cling to. Squeezing it filled Gideon with comfort; the feeling was familiar.
It had been two days since he thought he had silenced her. But here on this downtown street he could still hear Mother.
When he stupidly told her where he was going, she laughed in his face. She laughed at his plans to be with Cecily. She threatened to call the doctor. Here she was tormenting him all over again. He remembered her feeling much softer in his hand than the metal signpost, her face turning red, before turning a deep purple. Her eyes bulging out of their sockets yet still somehow stabbing him with a deep hateful glare, right up until their final moments.
Tightening his grip on the unrelenting metal pole, he continued squeezing as his mother’s voice grew quieter. Mother’s miserable, bitter voice, struggling for air yet still capable of spewing poisonous vitriol at him. She never wanted Gideon to be happy. Squeezing even tighter, Gideon anticipated that same sharp crack of bone he remembered hearing two days ago, a sound that the signpost refused to make.
The sudden jolt of a car horn snapped Gideon back to reality. Next to him, a car stopped at the intersection; the confused driver watched Gideon squeezing the life from a stop sign. Enthralled by the scene Gideon was making, the driver refused to continue onward until compelled by the horn of the irritated vehicle behind him. Thankful to be once more in control, Gideon released his grip on the metal pole. His hands were stiff and sore. He opened and closed them several times, getting the blood to return to his knuckles. Once the color had come back, Gideon straightened his suit jacket before continuing on toward Cecily’s hotel. It was his worst attack so far, but somehow, he had made it through.
This was Gideon’s third trip to the hotel. The first two times he went to familiarize himself with its modern open layout. Standing in the doorway, he already knew the path to the elevators that offered the least exposure. Everything from the location of the front desk to the patterns repeated throughout the marble flooring were burned into his memory. He had expected more people circulating about at this hour, maybe a few more people checking in, something that would have made the front desk too busy to notice him. The only people he saw were two men seated in postmodern chairs buried in their phones and a young woman working behind the counter. She was speaking to an older woman standing across from her. Thankfully she was currently occupied. That would make getting to the elevators easier.
Walking slowly yet with purpose, Gideon kept the clerk in the corner of his eye. She was still speaking to the older woman. Passing closer to the counter, he caught brief snippets of their conversation. He wasn’t paying attention to the words, but he could tell by the old woman’s tone that she was upset about something. Gideon recognized that tone; it was his mother’s tone. Gideon made it three-quarters of the way to the elevator; the hardest part was almost over.
“Hey.” The words coming from the front desk hit him like a bullet.
There was no mistaking that they were directed at Gideon. There was no denying that he’d have to stop.
“Excuse me.” The tone demanded acknowledgment.
Gideon turned to her, trying to force a smile. The best he could muster was a pitifully confused look. The young woman made no attempt to hide her aggravation. The older woman had a scowl that made Gideon’s stomach churn, but he was thankful she only sounded like Mother.
“Can you please let Ms. Marsh into room 812? There’s a problem with the lock.”
“Third time since we checked in,” the older woman added, not even trying to hide her hatefulness.
Gideon noticed the younger woman holding her arm out toward him. Gideon thought she might be pointing an accusing finger at him. Looking closer, he saw a keycard in her hand.
“Okay,” Gideon managed to get out.
She held the keycard in a manner that suggested she would have thrown it at him if she could have. Commanding himself to move forward, Gideon took the card from her hand. Turning to the older woman, Gideon made a polite motion for her to come with him. She thankfully did so without Gideon having to verbalize the request.
“Wait.” He had only gotten a few steps away when the young woman’s voice stopped him. “Take the master key just in case.”
Turning back to her, he saw that she was holding a second keycard. The master keycard. Gideon couldn’t believe his luck. He knew in his heart that the universe was aligning with him. There was no denying that he and Cecily were meant to be. His good fortune was proof of that. Gideon happily took the key from her hand, and with an added injection of confidence, he escorted Ms. Marsh to the elevator.
Rigidly standing in the middle of the elevator, Gideon towered over the older woman. Her arm occasionally brushing against him, she made it clear she had no intention of moving to any other part of the elevator. She had staked her claim to this spot, and she wasn’t giving it up for anyone. Gideon thought that she was nearly the same age as his mother. There they stood in silence, neither of them willing to surrender ground to the other. Gideon kind of admired her mettle. Her attitude may have been different had she known what he was capable of.
“I’ve had nothing but problems since check-in!” she spat out angrily.
Her tone snarled Gideon’s stomach. As physically intimidating as he was, Gideon folded at her odious tone. It so closely resembled his mother’s that it ate away at his abdomen in much the same way. She only spoke that one bitter sentence, but already Gideon was nauseous to the point of retching all over the elevator. He imagined himself doing so. Gideon wondered what her reaction to that would be. The thought of it amused him, which helped with the nausea slightly.
“I will be speaking with the hotel manager about all of this.” Her words were filled with virulence. They pierced Gideon’s flesh and worked their way into his veins. She was making it harder for him to fight the urge to react.
“This is the last time I will stay here; I promise you that.”
Gideon tried his best to tune her out. He clenched his already sore fists until the color drained from them, the pain preventing him from doing that for too long. He barely heard the ding of the elevator doors opening.
His vision narrowed to a small tunnel as they walked toward her room. Gideon pondered silencing her. By now her voice was just angry background noise, but still it had its effect on him, even if he wasn’t paying attention to the words. Gideon wondered if he could do it as quickly as he had to his mother. Ms. Marsh looked a little frailer than Mother; it probably wouldn’t take as long. Maybe it was easier the second time.
The door closed in Gideon’s face with a heavy thud. Gideon had lost time. He had tuned out the old woman and now couldn’t remember letting her into her room. He began to worry. Had he blacked out? Was she on the other side of this door, lying on the bathroom floor with giant red handprints around her neck?
Maybe it was easier to kill the second time. Gideon’s breathing was strained. What if the cleaning lady found her before he was able to follow through with his plan? He’d never be with Cecily if the hotel was suddenly locked down until the police arrived. He thought about going in and checking to see if he hid the body well enough to buy him some time.
But then what if he hadn’t actually killed her? He’d have to come up with an excuse for why he let himself back inside. If she didn’t believe him, then he’d have to kill her. He thought about knocking, maybe throwing her an apology or making something up about her breakfast being free. That would work.
He raised his fist to knock and then realized that he wasn’t standing in front of 812 anymore. Gideon was standing in front of room 2110. It was Cecily’s room, he was certain of that. Despite his panic and despite his wandering mind, his body had managed to carry him to her room. Somehow, he had willed himself here. Gideon’s destiny was just behind this door.
“I’m so sorry. The computer said this room was unoccupied. Hey, aren’t you Cecily Rogers? I follow you online!” He said it over and over again under his breath. All he needed now was her reply so he’d know where to take the conversation next.
Gideon slid the master key into the lock. After a few flashes of yellow, a lock clicked and a green light lit. Pressing down on the handle, Gideon opened the door with ease.
The smooth gray walls were the first thing Gideon noticed. Everything else looked just as it had in the picture. The Egyptian cotton duvet, the imitation down comforter and that view. It was the exact same view from the photo. Missing was the black wallpaper with its gold accents. Just then the dull clang of the housekeeper’s cart caught his attention. Turning around and looking out into the hallway, he saw the cleaning lady keying into the room across the hall.
“Excuse me.” Gideon’s need for an answer overpowered his anxiety.
“That’s been empty all week,” she answered, after flipping through a clipboard attached to her cart.
Gideon stepped back into what was supposed to be Cecily’s room. Walking up to the window, he looked out at the view. Could he have gotten it wrong? It looked exactly as it had in the photo. But maybe… Gideon thought for a moment. Crossing to the other side of the bed, Gideon lined himself up to where Cecily’s camera would have been. Stepping from side to side, varying his angle, he wondered just how off he could have been. He knew none of the rooms in this building matched the one in the photo. Was it possible that he was in the wrong building? Gideon’s chest felt like someone had stabbed a knife in his heart. He started to feel dizzy. His forehead pressed against the window, he looked down at the street beneath him. He saw himself falling forward through the window and down onto the pavement below. He said a silent prayer that the glass would give way, that he could feel the rush of air pushing against his body, and then the hard slap of concrete that would end his suffering. He could hear his mother’s thick, horrid and raspy laugh.
“Are you all right?” the housekeeper asked from the hallway.
Gideon placed a hand on the window to steady himself. Without saying a word, he turned around and stormed out of the room.
Before he knew it, Gideon was back on the sidewalk. He couldn’t remember if anyone had said anything to him in the lobby. He couldn’t even remember if he had used the elevator or just somehow appeared downstairs. Whatever brought him down here was a forgotten blur that would never reveal itself to him.
Standing there in the dizzying blur of the city once more, Gideon looked up at the wall of buildings towering over him. His head flung back, Gideon walked about blindly, with no control over where his movements took him. Seconds later a sharp, violent agony ripped through him, his head throbbing in pain. Gideon pressed the palms of his hands to his ears, but it did nothing to stop the pain. Its assault was relentlessly brutal. The origin was somewhere out beyond his tightly shut eyes. Frozen in fear, he couldn’t bring himself to see the cause but knew it wouldn’t stop until he opened his eyes and saw its source.
When he opened his eyes, the city revealed itself to him. Gideon was no longer standing on the sidewalk. In front of him a car furiously blared its horn. The woman behind the wheel unrelenting as she pressed against the center of her steering wheel with both hands. On her face a look of unyielding refusal. She would not stop until he moved. Inside Gideon a rage grew, an intense desire to pull her from her car and beat her head against the hard concrete until there was nothing left of it.
Before he could act on that impulse, salvation appeared out of the corner of his eye. There, across the street from the hotel, a fresh carving into the facade. It wasn’t very big, just enough to catch his attention. Gideon gave up on his thoughts of murdering this angry commuter as he walked across the street, drawn by this oddly familiar carving.
In front of Gideon was a building a few stories shorter than the one he had just left. His glance passing back and forth, he saw now how easy it would have been to mistake these two mammoth structures. The other being a hotel made it the obvious choice. He wasn’t sure what occupied this building. A much older construction, it looked almost forgotten, an old high-rise ready to be removed so that a newer one could take its place.
The carving that had caught Gideon’s eyes was freshly etched into the brick. Roughly three feet wide and a foot and a half at its tallest point, the design was perfectly carved into one of the building’s large gray blocks. It was Cecily’s tattoo. Gideon excitedly searched for the door, fate once again moving in his favor.
The large wooden doors, their window inserts covered over in a thick layer of old newspapers hung with a thick layer of glue and aged by the sun, were unlocked. Stepping inside, Gideon marveled at the condition of the lobby: a clear, unadorned, dimly lit chasm of concrete covered in a layer of dust that danced in the rays of what little light made its way through the newspaper-covered windows. The building felt empty of any life. Gideon had expected a makeshift shelter filled with the discarded belongings of homeless inhabitants. Either the homeless didn’t know this building was open, or they were afraid to enter. It didn’t even look like rats had set foot in here.
The lobby left very few options as to where Gideon could go next. There were only two doors, the one he’d come through and a pair of wooden art-deco sliding doors he assumed hid an elevator behind them.
Crossing over to the doors, he saw to the left of them a single button. Above them a needle indicating that the elevator was at rest on the lobby floor. Gideon pressed the button. A bell immediately dinged as the elevator doors slid open. Before he stepped through the doorway a second sound hit Gideon’s ears. It came from his phone. A new post from Cecily. Quickly and excitedly fumbling for his phone, Gideon managed to be the first like.
Cecily stood once more in front of the window, a window Gideon assumed was now just twenty floors above him. Holding in her hand a single purple flower, she wore a bright yellow blouse that hung softly off her right shoulder. Her hair falling like a smooth, velvety blanket gave brief glimpses of the skin underneath. Her makeup was subtle, a tinge of yellow eye shadow and the faintest bit of blush. The caption read, “I am yours in eternal splendor.” Not taking his eyes from his phone, Gideon moved as if in a dream as he entered the elevator. The doors sliding closed behind him, Gideon forced himself to look away from his phone. Pressing the only button on the control panel, the elevator sprung to life and lifted him toward her.
Gideon’s knees jerked as the elevator came to a stop with a slight jolt. Breathing deep, he wondered if the rush of anticipation might stop his heart. The doors slowly slid open, putrid air rushing into the elevator to greet him. His stomach churned. Gideon grabbed hold of the sides of the elevator, pulling himself across the threshold. The intensity of the stench was like pushing through a thick fog. As he stepped out onto the floor, Gideon immediately dropped to his knees.
Had he not skipped breakfast because of his nerves, his retching might have been more productive. Instead, he found himself choking on the sweet bile from his stomach, accompanied by bouts of dry heaving. Pulling himself up off the concrete floor, Gideon looked around in awe at the fabricated reality that surrounded him. It was all strangely familiar yet alien. This wide-open room had been sectioned off into a different truth. Constructed from wooden flats, individual backdrops made up Cecily’s online world. All around him were memories of Cecily’s former posts. In this one space Gideon saw Cecily’s bedroom. It was nothing more than three thin walls held upright by A-frames and sandbags. In another corner, a single window flat with a round metal table and chair set in front of it. On the other side of that flat, the illusion of a garden terrace; really an enlarged photograph anchored to a metal frame. This was the café Cecily liked to go to when she needed to be alone with her thoughts. Everywhere he looked, Gideon saw all of Cecily’s most frequent posts. Around him nothing but lies.
A sudden burst of white noise grabbed Gideon’s attention. Anchored high up on a concrete wall was an old television. A thirteen-inch screen housed in a black and white plastic console, it sat upon an unfinished plank of wood hastily anchored to the wall with a few cheap metal brackets. Looking down from the TV, Gideon saw a lone figure sitting in a chair facing away from him. It was Cecily. Her back was to him, but he knew it was her. What was this game she was playing at? Whatever it was, he was in no mood for it. As he slowly walked toward her, the smell of decay in the air, his only thought was of her lies. All he wanted now was to punish her.
His hands out inches from her neck, Gideon paused. Something was wrong. He could feel the very tips of his fingers touching a single strand of her hair, yet Cecily didn’t move an inch. That was when he saw her. That was when he realized the source of the decay.
Her head tilted to the side, matted hair draped across her face. Gideon fought the urge to pull back that curtain of hair and see what remained of Cecily’s face. He wanted to touch her skin but knew the dead flesh that now hung from her bones wouldn’t feel like it had in his imagination. Her skin now crawled and undulated underneath. The long slits that ran up her wrists made an opening for the thousands of insects that now devoured Cecily from the inside. Dark brown stains of dried blood ran down the arm of the chair, surrounding it in a bloodstained circle. On the floor, carelessly dropped at her feet, a knife filthy with Cecily’s dried blood.
Looking away from the horrific remains of his love, Gideon turned toward a wall, which had written across it, in smears of dark reddish brown, a prayer:
“I have become one with the Eyeless Man. I will live on as part of him.”
On a small stand placed deliberately in front of the wall was Cecily’s laptop, an Internet browser opened to her account. Lying across the keys, that same purple flower she held in her hand. Now dead and decaying, just as she was.
Desperate to preserve her memory, Gideon quickly turned away. He looked at the sets that Cecily used to create a life that never existed. Eventually his eyes landed on the one that brought him here.
Crossing over to the bed, he saw that familiar Egyptian cotton duvet cover. Placing his hand on it, Gideon confirmed that it was a four-hundred thread count. He still couldn’t tell if the comforter inside was real or imitation down.
Gideon placed a hand on the wallpaper. Textured gold flecks jutted out to meet his touch. Looking closer and deeper into them, he saw a pattern form. It wasn’t random, as he had previously thought. Each fleck of gold came together to create the soft petals of a flower. A golden lilac repeating itself. Gideon’s mind slipped into a trance as it glided from one flower to the next, a black nebula separating them.
Just then his phone sounded an alert. It was impossible. It was all impossible. Yet his phone was telling him the impossible was true: there was a new post. A flash out of the corner of his eye drew his attention back to her laptop. On the screen he saw Cecily’s posts. From where he stood he could see there was, in fact, a new photo displayed on the screen.
He feared the laptop but had to see for himself what it was showing him. Moving in a haze, Gideon brought himself to the screen. As he got closer, an image began to form. It wasn’t a photograph. They were words formed from a delicate calligraphy. Single lines gently flowing across the screen. Gentle and beautiful, they formed two sentences that Gideon found himself compelled to read aloud.
“I surrender to you as we merge into one. Where once there were many, there is only the Eyeless Man.” With the final word the screen went black.
“What the hell?”
A whistle of feedback filled the room. Gideon covered his ears to no avail. He looked up at the TV on the shelf as the sound burst from its speakers, and through the snow on the screen the faint outline of a faceless figure looked down at him. Just then the whistling died down, replaced by a soft, gentle voice.
“I’m so happy you’re here to share eternity with me, Gideon.” The voice was Cecily’s. If he had heard it any other time, it would have filled him with joy, but now it only brought him terror. “And he is, too.”
Her words drew Gideon’s attention to the wall above him and that name, the Eyeless Man. As he grasped for understanding, the sharp, piercing sound of feedback filled the room once more. The intensity dropped Gideon to his knees. He covered his ears with his hands, but it did nothing to deafen the sound. It was coming from inside his head now.
As he cried out in pain, something else started making its way through the feedback. It was a voice, hard to hear but slowly coming in clearer. He refused to believe it at first. How could that voice be here? He felt her neck collapse in his hands. He heard the snap of it breaking in his grasp. It was soon unmistakable and clear. The piercing whine of feedback accompanied by his mother’s hateful, raspy voice. Every taunt she had ever hurled at him was echoing through his brain.
He looked up to Cecily for mercy but saw only her lifeless corpse looking down at him. For a moment he thought he could see her smiling at him. Following her arm as it hung by her side, he saw what she was seemingly pointing at. It was the knife. The one that ended her life and now lay at her feet. Now it was offering Gideon relief.
Crawling toward it, the intense hate of his mother’s voice was now joined by the cruel laughter of a young woman he now knew was Cecily. All he wanted was her love, but all she would give him was endless torment. Eyes filled with tears, Gideon stretched out his arm and grabbed hold of the knife. With one final look at his love’s desiccated body, Gideon grasped the handle tightly.
A final scream as he forced the blade through his ear. Gideon pushed and pushed with all the strength remaining in his body, the bones of his skull cracking as metal pushed by muscle made its way through. The blade passed quickly through the soft tissue within, but Gideon still heard the voices, the high-pitched whine and now his own pained screams. Once more halted by bone. Gideon paused as he filled his lungs with air. One last push, one last crack of bone, the bloody tip of the knife now visible above his other ear.
Gideon’s body convulsed one last time before going completely still.
He was on the floor in a lifeless, bloated heap, his face a blank mask of death. Inside his brain, far from any living being’s comprehension, the voices continued.
It had been two full weeks since Cecily had posted any new content. Some of her followers had started leaving concerned comments under older posts, while others had sent direct messages wondering what had happened to her. Cecily’s absence hadn’t hurt her popularity. In fact, her followers had inexplicably doubled during her two-week hiatus. Her last post had actually three times the number of likes Gideon had originally projected. It had gotten so much attention that Cecily’s inbox was filled with offers to promote a wide array of products.
Not many people wondered what became of Gideon. He had been replaced at work after not showing up for two days in a row. Most of what he left in his hotel room had been tossed in the dumpster after it sat in a main office for a week. All but the laptop. That ended up at the night manager’s apartment before making its way to a used computer store.
It sat on a shelf in the back room of the shop for another week before an employee decided to give it a look on her lunch break. It took only a matter of minutes for Lisa to get past Gideon’s low-level security code. Lisa never considered herself a thief. Sure, she hadn’t paid to see a film in years, and she knew the best sites for torrenting games and software. But she had never swiped anything she considered to have real value. That was until Gideon’s laptop finally booted up, revealing to Lisa the last website he had ever visited.
Instantly seduced by the first post she saw, Lisa found herself compelled to slip the laptop into her messenger bag and take it home. That had been two weeks ago. Since then, no one, not even her boss or her roommates, had seen her.
Locked away in her room, she waited every day in eager anticipation for a new post to go up so that she would see him again. Lisa didn’t even mind if she was in the picture with him. She was, after all, a beautiful young woman with dark silken hair and deep, soulful brown eyes. In her latest post, Lisa couldn’t help but notice how mesmerizing her smile was. It seemed to reveal a pure joy and bliss, the likes of which she had never seen before. In the photo, her head leaned to one side, resting on his shoulder.
He was lean and handsome, with dirty-blond hair. His body was chiseled beneath an expensive, tight-fitting shirt. It wasn’t Gideon’s body, but those were unmistakably Gideon’s eyes. Lisa was helplessly trapped in his eyes. There was something expressed in them that didn’t fit with the rest of the photograph, she thought. She couldn’t help but notice that they did not express the same joy as Cecily’s did. There was no smile, just pain and a captivating sadness. A young stunning couple, together in an extravagant hotel room, with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, but she saw the pain in his eyes. They tore at Lisa and made her heart ache. She could see all the pain echoing through him. The screams and taunts that continued to haunt him. An eternity of suffering all reflected in his eyes. He needed her help.
The caption above the posted photograph read, “Two Souls, Intertwined.”