His eyes flicker between mine, wide and frantic, like he's searching for a lifeline.
"I don’t understand. I know you protect yourself, hold yourself back out of self-preservation, but I’ve never pushed." His cheeks flush as he looks away, and I instantly know he’s remembering our last date. Pinning me on the couch.
I set a hand on his arm, drawing his attention to me, and away from his guilt. "You’re right. I do protect myself. You’ve been patient, kind, and perfect in every way."
"The old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line," he sighs, twirling his noodles.
I’m desperate to take the sting out of my rejection. "Miguel, I can’t tell you what our time has meant to me. Before you, I’ve never even had a friend, much less a doting boyfriend."
He blinks rapidly, eyes wet, full of confusion and concern. "Evie, whatever it is, we can work through it."
"You don’t understand," I reiterate, "and that’s exactly why I can’t let this go any further."
Words balance on the tip of my tongue. Can we please be friends? Enjoy meals and movies together?
But I know with his feelings, this relationship will remain unbalanced. It’s unfair and cruel of me to hang around like a parasite, keeping him from moving on. It’s selfish to linger in his life like a parasite, stealing space where someone else could give him everything I can't.
I truly mean that he is my first and only friend, and that’s exactly why I’m giving him up. Because I care enough about him to put aside my own wants for what’s best for him.
We both sit there for a long moment, the air thick and heavy.
"If this is what you want, Evie, I’ll respect it. But I wish you’d give us a chance." His voice is tinged with sadness but also with an understanding that breaks my heart all over again.
A deafening crash reverberates through the restaurant as the front wall of windows shatters.
The howl of a deranged monkey echoes all around us. A long, gangly neck stretches into the restaurant, supporting a massive face that is an abomination—a cyclopean eye socket devoid of any eye, an open void into nothingness. Two massive horns curl like a ram’s from its skull.
My heart slams up into my throat and my palms turn sweaty as fear and shock rocket through me.
Is this a nightmare? Am I asleep?
The gaping eyehole is surrounded by decaying flesh pulled back into a macabre grin, revealing a maw of jagged, dripping teeth.
A sickly green moss or fur, interrupted by patches of rough, scarred skin, clings to its body. The eight-foot monster lumbers in through the broken glass wall of the building.
Human screams pierce the restaurant, and I know for sure I’m not asleep. This is actually happening. Every muscle in my body freezes up, petrifying me where I sit.
The creature lets out a sound—something between a howl and a raspy laugh, echoing with a depth of malice and hunger. The weight of its stare, even without a discernible eye, is palpable—a gravity that draws in all light and hope.
People panic and scramble, tables overturn, dishes shatter. The creature lets out another disturbing howling laugh as it scans the room. When its empty eye socket lands on me, I know—it’s found what it’s looking for.
I find my voice. "Miguel, get down!" I cry, launching up to run, but he’s already pulling me behind a toppled table. Themonster ignores the people fleeing the restaurant. Because it’s here for me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"What the hell is that?" His voice is filled with disbelief and rising panic.
"You need to leave, now!" I order.
But Miguel won’t leave. He grabs a broken chair leg and stands his ground as if he’s going to take on this creature from a nightmare. It’s both brave and incredibly stupid.
The cyclops-creature unfurls a set of dirty wings and lunges. Every fiber in my being begs me to save Miguel. I can’t let him get hurt—not because of me. With a surge of adrenaline, I shove him violently out of the creature’s path, its gnarled, spindly fingers reaching for me.
Miguel loses his balance and crashes into a table, his head striking the corner. He slumps down, unconscious.
"Miguel!"
The creature lets out a victorious caw, gripping my arms with its crushing force. Bright pain turns my vision red a moment as its razor-sharp claws sink into my triceps, piercing flesh, my blood running down my elbow and soaking into the sleeves of my sweater.
