text: 1. where do we begin... i guess, if i had to say, it would start in my home. if home is what they say, if home is a place of comfort, then home is what it was. so i hesitate to bring it up. i am unclear as to what it means to be alive in that place. if part of me is here, i survived, while part of me will always be left behind, broken glass on torn bed frames, still it lives in there. in those crevices in my mind i don’t care to visit. that i won’t visit. if that is home, then it’s the perfect place to lay down my heart. 2. it’s a school day. i remember because mom woke me up. i am five, or four, and there is that smell of morning. i don’t smell the morning anymore. i went into the kitchen. breakfast was served: eggs with cut up hotdogs. we get ready to leave. there in the closing of the car door, i hear it. softly, at first, a hummingbird wasn’t this quite. then, at once, an eruption of sound came from behind my seat. i covered my ears as mom opened the door. “what’s wrong?” i don’t answer. i wouldn’t even know what to say. 3. i am eighteen again. eighteen and drinking shit beer with shit friends that i’ve partnered for a lifetime. these are girls. these are guys. these are the people i would kill for and lose with. we are out of town. the city limit miles behind. the sky is growing dark. i turn, stumbling over to piss. my eye sight is foggy, i can hear Mike shouting “don’t go too far!” with my dick in my zipper and my hand on a beer i start to pee into some bushes. how does it always know, when i am alone or afraid? i hear it... a soft humming of wind and voices. it’s as if all these people crammed into a room, speaking in whispers. then it shouts. one voice among them louder than hell. always in that same place. in that place right behind your peripheral vision. i turn around as fast as i can and trip with my dick still out, spilling beer and embarrassment all over my jeans. it was Mike this time. he laughed, high as a kite “you alright man, you look pale” i put myself away as he helps me up. i spook around trying to see clearly. looking all around as if nothing had just happened. 4. it was my eight grade graduation. my mom is looking proud in the audience. for a while there, i wasn’t sure i would make it. i wasn’t sure i would walk with my class. this was two years after the accident. i had developed behavioral issues and was removed from my classes due to anger management. they wrote me up this plan. this plan that would get me back on the road to success, they said. as i sat there waiting for my name to be called. a man stood in the back of the cafeteria where they hosted our event. he didn’t look like a parent. he didn’t look like a person, really, as i blinked twice before looking at him again. my name was called. i stood up to walk over to the principle to receive my certificate... the humming began. the sounds of those people faded. my mom looked so proud of me. so proud. as i screamed, he handed me my certificate. his hand was made of leathery black skin. his face was featureless. and his eyes. those empty shark gazes as we touched. my skin turned cold. i blinked twice. and he was gone. the principle stood there “good job” i looked around, the crowd of parents and teachers clapping for the next kid who stood up after me. and my mom. so proud. so pleased. 5. it was raining outside. i always loved the rain. i would get up early and chase the dog through the mud. we had a big backyard. as big could be for me, age seven or eight. i ran around barking. i loved the rain in those days. i loved the mud and the wet earth smell that crept up from the ground. the rain began to pour harder. my dog stopped and stared. “what’s wrong boy?” “why did you stop?” he began to cower. his tail coiled up under his butt as i bent down to grab him. he was whimpering. i couldn’t tell what was wrong. the rain pouring down. and even in that whitewall of water, the humming began. i looked up. and there he was. only a few feet in front of me. he didn’t look wet at all. the rain didn’t touch him. and his eyes were fixed upon me. “what do you want?” he raised his skeletal hand. black as night. black as the color of the void must feel. lifting only four or five fingers. i blinked twice. my dog found it’s voice and barked. i blinked twice before falling over into the mud and ground. i sat there and cried as the rain came to a sudden halt. 6. it was summer once again. twenty-one and in the back of a mustang with the top down. the song playing was eighties rock. for whom the bell tolls, time marches on... for whom the bell tolls. Mike was driving and Hector was in the front seat. i was waving my hands in the air. all of us singing along to the song. Hector turned to me, handing me a shooter of Jameson, before handing one to Mike. we were coming up on the big drop. the little dipper, we coined it. it was this patch of road that went up and instantly fell down. Mike was going thirty-five as he approached it. we blew past the speed marker: 25. he pressed his foot down on the gas. we jumped up to sixty in half a second. the little dipper ahead. i closed my eyes. threw my hands up after we all slammed our shots. we came up the slope and flew over the drop. time stood still. time wasn’t constant in this state of being. the music died. the car disappeared. and thats when i saw him. waiting at the bottom of the road. as if he’d been there all night. he was always there. Mike swerved. Hector flew out of the car. his body a rag doll. i grabbed on to the seat belt around my waist. we slammed into a ditch and the car made this awful noise. crunching up like a wad of tin foil. “did you see that?” “where’s Hector?” we got out of the car. shouting for Hector. “Mike, do you see it?” “see what?” i pointed. we both froze. he was standing over Hectors body on the asphalt. he leaned down and touched him. he visibly touched him with the red tint of tail lights lighting his hand. Mike ran over as i froze. “help me!” i couldn’t move. 7. i was snorting blow with these two girls i met at the bar. they were both laughing and taking bong rips as i emptied out my bag on a movie case. i cut up some lines and rolled up a twenty dollar bill. “i want next” one of the girls said before coming over to sit next to me. i snorted my line. the lions share of a line. and my nose began to burn. “who wants shots?” the other girl stood up and walked into the kitchen of this shotgun style apartment. the girl next to me took my rolled up twenty and snorted loudly over the movie case. “do you always do your blow on a weird movie case?” i looked back at the movie. and there he was. a shadow covered in white. i panicked. “we have to leave” my arms turned pale. my legs began shaking. she reached over and grabbed my leg. i blinked twice as i met her face... it wasn’t her sitting next to me anymore. 8. Hector didn’t die from the impact to the road. Hector was hurt, covered in blood that wasn’t his own. the report said he died from acute organ failure. he was still alive when we got to him that night. he looked at Mike and started to tear up. he reached over to me as i slowly walked over “it’s you...” he croaked. “it’s always been you...” 9. i shut my eyes before remembering that home. that house where time floated by and you floated along. if there was life there, it surely swam alone. i began to see it, unwillingly. i didn’t want to see. i blinked twice and there i was: twenty-six. successful. in a career. in a house under my name. with a car out front. i sat in that house alone. even though i knew, deep down, that i was never, truly, alone. it began with a frenzy. i smashed the walls with an axe and then began on the decor. i walked over to the stove. began to light everything that was remotely flammable. i entered my room. chopping the bed frame, ripping the curtains as the fire in the kitchen began to spread. with the smoke filling up behind me. i walked into the bathroom and slammed into the mirror. and as i fell to my knees, there he was on the floor... 10. the day of the accident was a mistake. i didn’t fall from the quad, no, something pushed me. i was going twenty before it swept me off. the last memory of my youth escaped me. my final moment was full of fear and regret. i was eleven or twelve. i was there and then i wasn’t. he looked at me, as my brain began to swell. internal bleeding. he looked at me and i looked at him. a creature without a face with a sharks gaze. it was hungry. and i knew it was time. i reached out and it took my hand. i fell through the world as the earth escaped from underneath. left behind. who was the man in the mask... 11. we left Hector at the front doors of St. Mary’s hospital. we left him there and ran. Mike’s uncle picked us up a block or so away. we were covered in blood and he didn’t ask why. Mike cried. he looked at me “why did you tell me to leave him there?” i couldn’t respond. i had no words. i began to cry harder. the alcohol fueling a bursted rage. a fury locked up in my throat. my eyes stinging. my nose backed up with snot. we left him there on that concrete slab just outside the automatic doors. i forced Mike to listen. Hector was gone and the faceless man took him. Mike didn’t believe me. even after the funeral. that was the last time we ever stood in the same place. Hector was gone. only his tombstone remained. 12. you can run from it all your life. you can run away and graduate and have a family and kids. but his surviving words still read: a beloved son. and the days taste stale. the food is always dry. and the faceless man is there... watching. waiting. i need only look in a mirror. 13. end.