Tale 2: Follower

**Tale #2: FOLLOWER**

**“I know you’re there. You’ve been watching me for days now.”** No answer. **“If you have something to say, you might as well get it over with.”** Nothing. **“Look I’ll call the police.”**

**“No you won’t.”** The girl poked her head out from behind the bookshelf. Thankfully, everyone at the library was far too engrossed in their own business to bother noticing our interaction.

**“What makes you say that?”** I asked.

**“The police won’t help you. They didn’t before. Everyone in this town thinks you’re crazy.”** Well, she was right about that. Ever since I came back, I’ve been a social pariah. It didn’t matter to me though. The less people paid attention to me, the easier I could do what I came back to do.

**“What’s your name?”** I asked, conveniently skirting around the previous topic. The girl looked down at the floor.

**“Not here,”** she whispered **“follow me.”** I did as she said and followed her into one of the many small rooms in the back. I sat down at the small table as she closed the door.

**“So. You know who I am.”** I said. The girl nodded. The lighting in the tiny room allowed me to get a better look at  her. She had choppy black hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, covered by a thin gray hoodie. Her smudged dark eyeliner against her pale skin made me feel like I was sitting across from a literal corpse. She looked tired and paranoid and held an expression that I’d seen all too often before. She knew something.

**“People tell you stories, right?”** she mumbled **“Stories about this town that nobody else believes?”**

**“They do.”** I answered. The girl shifted in her seat and crossed her arms.

**“So, like, do you do anything? After hearing the stories, I mean.”** There was a moment of silence. I knew where this was going. This wasn’t the first time.

**“Has your friend killed anyone?”** The girl looked up at me and her eyes widened. For a moment, it almost looked like she was going to run out the door. **“Don’t worry,”** I sighed **“I’m not some vigilante or anything like that. Even if I wanted to take action, there are forces at work that would erase me from existence if I so much as thought about it.”**

**“So you just, you just let people get away with murder?”** She didn’t seem upset or angry when she asked that question. In fact, I think I even detected a hint of relief.

**“This town wears a mask so tight it almost believes it’s real. The people who buy into that bullshit are the same ones who failed me and everyone I ever cared about. Why would I lift a finger to help end the nightmares this place created for itself?”** I sat back in my chair and glanced out the door. I leaned over and grabbed two books from my backpack. **“Here. Act like your reading. If anyone sees us talking like this, they might get suspicious.”** The girl complied and opened one of the books to a random page. Looking down, she began to talk again.

**“I’m Deandra.”** The girl squeaked.

**“Nice to meet you, Deandra. My name’s Faith.”** I turned a page in my own book. **“So, what’s your story?”** Deandra turned a page.

**“I work in the mall at one of the clothing stores. I think-”** She paused, fighting back her own nerves before continuing, **“I think one of my coworkers is dead.”** I looked up from the book I was pretending to read.

**“A lot of people die here, Deandra.”** Deandra paused and met my gaze as she leaned in closer.

**“You don’t understand. He’s not just dead, he’s LIVING dead.”** I lifted my book from the table and sat back in my chair.

**“Go on.”** Deandra looked out the door to make sure nobody was around. **“If anyone catches you doing that they’ll get worried”** I said, **“just tell me what you came here to tell me.”** Deandra quickly picked up her own book and held it close to her face.

**“He doesn’t get hurt, he barely bleeds, at first I thought he was just super lucky or had some sort of health condition but...”** she paused. The same type of pause you would expect from someone who was about to get sick. **“The other day, I grabbed his lunch by mistake and took it home. When I opened it, at first I thought they were just french fries. But when I picked one up,”** Deandra’s lips started to quiver and her eyes began to tear up.

**“Deandra,”** I said softly, **“what did you pick up?”** She peered over the back cover of her book and I could hear the genuine fear in her voice when she spoke.

**“A human finger.”**