Marie sat at the edge of her bed, stretching with a moan. I looked at the time -- 7:19pm. She was on night shift again and had to be at work by ten. She leaned over me, checking if I was awake. My eyes were slightly open. Smiling, she kissed my temple. I reached around and touched the skin on her hips. A feeling of safety washed over me, which was making it impossible for me to stay awake.

She walked to the washroom, a towel hanging from her arm. I sat up. "Go back to sleep," she said.

"It's okay. I'm up," I mumbled.

"Just stay the night. There's food in the fridge."

"It's okay, I'll leave with you," I yawned and lied back down. "Just ten more minutes."

"Stay here."

Only half awake, I heard the shower turn on. Time skipped, and I heard the sound of her blow dryer. I rolled over to her side of the bed and smothered my face in her cool pillow, breathing in her scent, falling into an even deeper sleep.

I woke up to perfect blackness and silence. The clock radio showed 11:18pm. My head ached from too much sleep.

"Marie?" I called out, my eyes slowly focusing and making out shapes in the dark room. The cross on the wall sent a prickly shiver up my back. I sprung up and searched the wall for the light switch. Finding it, the light bulb on the ceiling brightened the room, revealing a picture of the Virgin Mary looking down on me with palms open, exposing a bloody hole on each hand. I lumbered across the room and it seemed like her eyes were following me.

In the living room, the statue of Jesus loomed over me, and I stared at it for so long that I thought I saw the figure breathing--its rib cage rising and falling. I made a mental note never to look at it again, and turned to the clunky computer beside it. As the computer loaded, my eyes wandered to Jesus again, his eyes rolled up in hellish pain.

On the computer, I see a new email message from my therapist.

Date: September 22, 2022 3:35:09 AM GMT-04:00

Subject: Next Appointment

Please contact me to schedule your next appointment. Remember, attending regularly scheduled sessions is essential to your rehabilitation. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.

I deleted the email and opened the CityNews website. An ad popped up, forcing me to watch a thirty second commercial about a new weight loss drug. I thought about making coffee, but the ad finished before I could get up and I clicked "continue".

The home page featured an article about the Blue Jays beating the Yankees and clinching their first AL East title in 22 years. Below the article ran a column of thumbnails and headlines – a photo of Idris Elba with the headline "Guess what the stars had to say about TIFF 2022" – a photo of a car wreckage with the headline "Street racing a possible factor in fatal Highway 401 crash".

I scrolled further down, catching up on older news I had missed in my two day stupor, and then a single photo caught my eye, alluring me – the burnt face of a two storey building complex, its second floor windows blackened and shattered. There was a small Trinidadian grocery story on the first level, and the rear of a fire truck was jutting into the photo from the left of the frame. The headline read: "Arson investigators on scene after 60 year old man dies in west end house fire."

I clicked on the thumbnail. The full article read:

09/20/2022 12:04 PM by Toan Nguyen

The arson and homicide units are investigating the death of a man found inside a burning apartment in Toronto's west end early Wednesday morning. Police say they are treating the incident as suspicious.

Around 4:30 a.m. emergency services responded to the 1500 block of Queen Street West, arriving to find heavy smoke pouring from the two-storey structure.

"Fire crews did encounter flames and smoke coming from the building when they arrived," said fire department spokesman Grayson Bosch.

The man, identified as Daniel Brewer, was found after the fire was quickly extinguished.

I read the sentence again.

The man, identified as Daniel Brewer, was found after the fire was quickly extinguished.

Was this Daniel? We had met in Toronto's west end, on Queen Street West – but it must be a coincidence. This couldn't be the same Daniel.

Investigators are working to determine the cause of the fire. The two-storey complex is still standing. A second level window is smashed out near the back of the home and the siding around it is blackened from the incident. Three windows on the front end of the home are also broken.

Police say neighbors spotted flames at this house shortly after 4:30 a.m. They have reason to believe the fire was no accident but no one is in custody.

The crime has stunned neighbours.

"He was a very good person. He was so polite, so intelligent," Meghan McMath said. "I cried most of the morning."

My ears rang. I looked up at the bleeding image of Jesus above me. Flashes of Mindy entered my brain, her charred skeleton outstretched on the floor of the tool shed, and the ringing in my ears grew louder.

I Googled "Daniel Brewer" and the same article came up in different news sites.

The man, identified as Daniel Brewer, was found after the fire was quickly extinguished.

Will was there at the bar when I met Daniel, I thought to myself. There was a man sitting alone in the corner -- that must have been him -- or the man playing pool by himself.

Will was following me – harassing me – I was convinced.

Was Daniel's murder a gruesome message meant for me? Was Will a sadist, tormenting me, as he tormented Mindy, out of some twisted sense of love?

A boom from the furnace startled me. The religious faces oppressed the room – Christ on the wall beside me, the painting of St. Joseph behind me, the Last Supper in the kitchen – the painted, somber faces mocked me. The shadows of the branches outside casted finger-like silhouettes on the wall, reaching for my head. I tried to stand but staggered, disoriented.

My pills – I needed my pills. A yearning seethed inside me – a heavy and terrible urge to swallow my nerves away. But the pills were in my apartment. Suddenly, I longed for the emptiness that kept me safe all those lonely years. My hunger for the pills turned into a feverish withdrawal, sweat seeping from all the pores of my body. I needed to get out of there.

I darted to every light switch in Marie's apartment, switching them all on. I dressed, buttoning my shirt inside out. Snagging the only set of keys hanging from the rack, I ran up the staircase and into the cool night air.

The neighborhood was quiet – too quiet. Will could have been anywhere, I thought. The townhouses and streets looked so different in the nighttime. I trudged forward to the bus stop and paced in front of the bus shelter. A black man wearing head phones approached and stood under the shelter, bobbing his head to music, and I felt some comfort knowing I wasn't alone. I checked the box of free daily newspapers – empty.

The bus rolled to the curb, breaks squealing. At the back of the bus, a man wearing a hood lowered his head, cloaking his face. He was tall, and thin, and could be Will.

At the next stop, another man stepped onto the bus wearing sun glasses and a back pack. He could be Will.

Arriving at the station, I waited for another bus at the terminal -- standing with strangers under a long awning. The number 89 bus pulled up and we filed in. The driver was tall and thin, his head turned away from me. Was he Will?

Finally, at my stop, I got off alone. The street was empty. The bus motored away, leaving me in uneasy stillness, and I looked over my shoulder instinctively. Making my way down the rows of buildings, I shot nervous glances into each alley. The thought of Will vexed me and my legs moved faster.

A voice screamed ahead. I thought about darting in between two parked cars beside me. 

"Fucking shape shifter! Die you fucking shape shifter!" The bum wandered out from the side of a building and onto the sidewalk, shouting. He walked towards me, stumbling, coming closer. I didn't cross the street as I normally would. I was sick of dodging him – I was sick of his voice and his invasive shit smell in my nostrils.

"Fucking shape shifter!" he approached, his shoulder threatening to brush mine. The bum took another step closer and I lunged at him with a raised fist.

I shouted, and the bum recoiled sideways onto the grass. I saw his eyes for the first time under his long, wiry hair. They were opened wide, terrified. Fury surged through me and I stood there trembling. The bum backed away cautiously, mumbling to himself. The fear that filled me – the fear of Will – the fear of the real world and its stench – all reached its tipping point in my chest and boiled over into hard anger. As the anger grew inside me, my posture straightened in a Will-like dominance, and I had nowhere else to lash out. "Come here!" I yelled, and the bum stumbled away faster. Blood ran warm through me.

He was the walking garbage and I wanted him gone. I imagined the burnt bodies of Daniel and Mindy and I wanted to see him burnt, too. He was a stain on existence with no record, and no name. There would be no trace of him, unlike Daniel on my blog, or Mindy on Facebook. All that will remain of the bum is the vision of his filthy body engulfed in orange flames, and that vision engraved in your mind, right now, as you read this page.