The Face of the Wicked

er of the dimly lit room, nestled on a plush couch next to a crackling fire, seeking refuge from the dreary weather outside. The w

drifting back to the mysterious figure I had a glimpse of in the shadows

that I was in until he spoke, his voice pulling me out of my reverie. "Thi

aying at the corners of his lips. His dark hair was tousled from the rain, and his piercing

om me. "No, not at all, it is all yours," I replied, m

aze never once leaving my face. I felt a blush creep into my cheeks und

ware of each other's presence. I pretended to read my book, though my eyes kept drifting back to

e feeling that something significant was unfolding between

t filled with a quiet confidence that drew me in. "We should do this ag

tain about how to react to

g at the corners of my lips as I met hi

of farewell before disappearing into the rain-soaked str

eived a text. Oh, it is from Sarah. "Hi, sorry for not making i

e to the nearby park. I wandered around aimlessly,

e the encounter on my birthday returned with a vengeance. I couldn't shake the feeling

in my chest as I searched for any sign of danger lurking in the darkness. But try a

take another step, he appeared before me li

elody that washed over me like a balm to my

name on his lips. "Who... who are you?" I asked, my voice barely ab

to me. "My name is Dylan," he confessed, his voice a low murmu

e was alive. Did they know each other when she was younger? Did she babysit him? A torrent of qu

been following me?" I pressed further, taking a step back, my heart pounding with

oundings, my anxiety intensified. "I am sorry, but I have to go. I know you might mean well, but I really must leave," I said urgently, spinning on my heel wantin

aloud, my thoughts racing as wildly as my emotions. I didn't even know that guy, and now he is saying that I'm in danger? It's all so confusing. The wind whipped aro

I made my way into the kitchen and spotted a note on the fridge. "Working late at the hospital, there are le

gile. We never broach the subject of my mother's death, and I'm too afraid to bring it up. I wonder if

ey have ever crossed paths before. Maybe they have. I just can't make sense of what happened tonight in the park. Why did Dylan sa

full name. Determined to find some sort of clue, I decided to browse through my mother's friends list on social media. Eventually, I found him. "Well, this isn't much to go off of," I remarked to myself, feeling a bit dis