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Here We Go Again

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Evan unlocked the door to his apartment and walked inside. He let out a soft yawn while closing the door behind him. He worked pretty much all day, and will have to do it the next day. He wouldn’t deny that he was excited, it was amazing to make music, and hang out with people who had the same interests as he did. 

Right now, all he wanted to do was fall asleep. He needed it and will need it for tomorrow. He dropped his bag on the couch and left his jacket draped over one of the chairs in the kitchen. He was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open as he staggered toward his bedroom. 

His skin prickled from how cold it was inside his apartment. “Damn it,” he muttered, heading back down the hallway to turn the heat up. He still had his phone and turned it on while walking into his bedroom. It was a wide room with a queen bed sitting against the wall with two nightstands on either side. 

He sat down on his bed and turned his lamp on. His wifi wasn’t on. He frowned, connecting it, but it wouldn’t come on. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, getting up and exiting the room. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he had to make sure his wifi was on and check his social media. He walked into the living room and found his wifi box. Yeah, it was off.  There was no lights blinking. He knelt down and fixed it in his tired state. 

Evan checked his phone at the same time, waiting for the lights to turn on. While he did that, he felt something strange. He didn’t know if it was because he was tired and hearing things, but he was sure someone was watching him, breathing, or maybe he was just tired. 

He glanced around the living room with its wide screen, two couches sitting on either side, and a glass table in the middle. It was clean with no chips lying on the floor. He liked when his place was relatively nice, and it was mostly because his friends made a mess of the place whenever they came to visit. 

Evan sniffled, and looked back down at his phone. Yeah, now the wifi was on. He got up and headed back to his bedroom. That feeling of being watched was still on his mind, but he was so tired that when he reached his bedroom, he flopped down on his bed, rolling on his side, and looking at his phone. 

He had a new message.

Did you miss me? — Nov.1/16

Evan stared, bleary eyed, at the message. He didn’t get it in 2016 or it would’ve been left and forgotten. No. This was the person who sent it, and it was just a date.

Another message appeared.

I missed you. After all this time, I found you. — Nov.1/16

Evan sat up, blinking, and waking up as his heart raced in his chest. What the fuck is this? Why is this here? Who is this?

Evan messaged back, asking who they were. He was in no mood for his friend’s freaking him out. It sounded weird, like a stalker or something. 

You forgot me? :( That makes Delirious sad. — Nov.1/16

Evan felt sick. A nausea rising in his stomach, to his throat, he slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from gasping, while his eyes widened at the message, at the words, the names, the fucking emoji.

No. This isn’t happening again. Not again, not like before. What the fuck is this? 

Evan got up, letting the phone fall on his bed as he ran straight for the bed and shoved it closed. His heart raced at how hard it was slammed, but no one came, no one was there. That feeling of being watched, was it him in the house? Did he find him from before, all those years ago? 

He wanted to run, to hide, to forget what happened. He changed his name and made something of himself, but can’t be happening again. 

He glanced over at his phone and saw that someone was phoning him from an anonymous number. 

Oh shit. Oh fuck. This was happening again. 

The number went out, and they phoned again, and again, and again, while Evan was against the door, to scared to move, unsure of what he was supposed to do. 

“I have to call the police,” he whispered. 

He slowly pulled away from the door and walked toward the bed. No one was phoning him and he picked it up. There was a new message though, and he checked what it was saying. 

If you call the police, the other six are going to be picked off one by one. — Nov.1/16

Evan ignored the message and called the police. He went back to the door, and pressed his back against it. He was shaking so bad, but he had to call them, he couldn’t have this happening again. If...that man...gets arrested, he won’t have to worry about it anymore. He’ll be safe. 

He gasped as the door to the bedroom was slammed against, and he lost hold of the phone in his hand, almost losing his strength on the door before pushing it back. He pushed and pushed, listening to someone grunting on the other side as they kicked the door several times before it went quiet, soft panting breaths were the only indication that they were still standing on the other side. 

Evan heard the slightest sound of something scraping along the wood of the door, followed by a low chuckle. 

“Vanoss,” he whispered, the scraping continued, “come on out, Vanoss. You’re not going anywhere else, why do you think this was a good idea?”

“I already called the police, asshole,” Evan said, trying to sound confident in his frightened state. 

“Did you now?” 

Evan looked down at his phone, and knew that they must’ve either hung up, or they heard the loud noises. He really hoped that they heard and were coming to his apartment to make sure he was still alive, or still here. 

The last time this happened, he was kidnapped and taken to an old warehouse of some kind in the middle of nowhere. Now, this was going to get worse if this guy tries to come into his apartment and beat the shit out of him, or worse, kill him. 

“Come on, come on, come on,” Evan whispered, reaching for the phone, at the same time, wishing for the cops to already get to is apartment. 

“Are you jerking off?” he asked, laughing. He sounded menacing, a lot more than the last time they saw one another. Not like Evan wanted to see him, right now, he hoped this guy stayed on the other side of the door until the police come to arrest him. Even then, he’d rather not look at his clown painted face, and the hockey mask he wore over it. 

“Fuck off,” Evan said, grasping for the phone and letting out a sigh of relief. He was still shaking, and sweating, the room either got too cold or too hot in the last several minutes, but that didn’t matter, he had to tell his friends that they were back, and it wasn’t going to end well. 

The sliding of something on the door was making Evan think that what he had in his hand was a knife. Maybe a spoon, or a butter knife, or nothing. Nothing was better than what he actually held. 

Evan texted Brock, and before he can send the message. The door was shoved hard again, and Evan wasn’t ready for it, and he stumbled forward, dropping the phone. He twisted around, about to shove the door shut, but it was shoved open, hitting Evan in the leg, and he yelled in pain while his attacker stood above him, he wasn’t wearing the mask this time. 

He looked almost the same, the clown makeup was splattered on his face, and there was a blue toque covering his dark hair, while his blue sweater was unzipped, revealing a dark shirt underneath. And Evan’s fears came true at the sight of the large knife in his gloved hand.

Evan clenched his teeth back, moving away, but he was kicked in his bad leg, and was shoved down, the knife placed to his neck, while a grin stretched across his attacker’s mouth. 

Evan breathed hard, chest heaving. 

“Hello, Vanoss,” he whispered, leaning close to his face.

Evan swallowed thickly, and said, “Hello, Delirious.” 

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Not long enough.”

Delirious sneered. “Shut the fuck up. It was difficult looking for you.” 

“I made sure that it would.”

“Smart ass,” Delirious said, pushing the knife into his neck, and Evan was frightened to move, even if he was being too sarcastic in this situation. He couldn’t think of anything besides this guy leaning placing his leg on his arm, and the knife to his neck. 

He smelled of peppermint. 

“I called the police.”

Delirious wrinkled his nose, “This is just a calling card.”

“You texted.”

“And you don’t understand.” Delirious slowly slid the blade away from Evan’s neck. “This isn’t like before. We got some new people in our group, and I think you lost some.” He chuckled. “The next time I see you, Vanoss, it won’t be like before, it’ll be a lot more different.”

Evan said nothing as Delirious got up and sprinted from the room. He slowly sat up and heard the front door slam shut, and the quiet wrap around the house. His phone laid a foot away from him, but he couldn’t move besides his hand that reached up to his neck.

It was small, a slice leaving a dribble of blood on his fingertips. 

“Fuck,” Evan whispered.

The silence was interrupted by knocking on the front door of his apartment. He heard the door open and a police officer wandered into the bedroom as Evan was now sitting on the bed, holding his phone after he sent the message to his friend, Brock. 

He needed to talk to his friends before this escalates.