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Ford opened up the kitchen cabinets, hoping he had something. He thought about the last can of beans he’d opened that morning, only realizing after he was finished that it was the last one. Loathe as he was to admit it, he couldn’t work with an empty stomach.
Even the fridge was bare save for a half gallon of milk.
He felt sick, knowing that he’d have to leave his home. He’d long since cut off his deal with Bill, but he could still hear him, mocking him, laughing at him.
His stomach growled.
Plucking up his courage, Ford walked to the front door and turned the knob. He told himself he’d be fine as he stepped out into the crisp autumn air.
He kept his head down as he walked to the store, unable to stop thinking of ways it could go wrong. What if Bill possessed him again? What if he fell asleep?
He couldn’t go one night without hearing that horrible laugh, knowing that it was his own foolishness that led to it. If only he hadn’t ignored the warnings.
Bill had nearly destroyed Ford’s sanity, and he couldn’t know if he was gone. Bill was smarter than that. Ford used to think he was smarter than that.
He walked into the Dusk 2 Dawn, barely acknowledging the cheerful voice from behind the counter. As he scanned the shelves, he felt himself being watched.
Slowly, Ford looked from the can of beans he held, and his blood turned to ice. There were about six other people in the aisle, and they all turned to look at him. Their faces were blank, their eyes wide.
And the eyes glowed a toxic yellow. A voice filled his head.
“NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN, SIXER.”
He dropped the can, and it rolled across the linoleum floor. Spinning back and forth, he demanded, “Bill! What do you want from me?! Leave me alone, you monster!”
All around him, their mouths curled upward into grins so wide he could see their gums, and the eyes glowed brighter, burning into him like golden laser beams. Suddenly, he couldn’t care less about his hunger. He had to get out of here.
He ran for the doors, but they slammed shut all by themselves. He pushed on the doors, but they wouldn’t budge. He slammed his entire weight onto them. Nothing. All around him, laughter filled the store. He looked up to find everyone closing in on him, eyes still glowing, arms outstretched. He curled in on himself. “Leave me alone, Bill! LEAVE ME ALONE!”
“Sir? Sir!” The voice was distant, like he was just waking up. Just crossing the threshold between a dream and the real world.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. He found himself curled into a fetal position in front of the door. Looking up, he realized the entire store was staring at him, looking shocked at his outburst. Distantly, he heard mocking laughter, and he looked down at his shaking hands. There was no blood. That was a good sign.
But it didn’t stop the terror filling him. How deep had Bill rooted himself in him? Deep enough for him to have a psychotic break? Deep enough for him to harm others?
He heard whispering from the people crowded around him. One suggested calling a doctor, another the police.
Suddenly his growling stomach hardly mattered. Not bothering with an explanation—they wouldn’t understand—he stumbled to his feet and practically bolted out of the store.
Bill was still infecting him. There was nothing to do, nobody to trust.
Not even himself.
THE END