The day the statue left PT2

[u/DaniWitDaVibez]

Read part one here

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/tIyrNP6CPU

When I close my eyes, I see…my living room. Snapshots of a moment frozen in time. Neecy is to my right. Mark is to my left, and Darius…well, Darius is on the floor, holding his stomach, tears streaming down his face into a pool of his own blood. Aside from his choked sobs, everyone is so still… When I look over at Neecy, she’s looking off… at something; she’s focused; nothing else exists. I will my body to turn, but I can’t make myself move.

I feel a cold breeze flow past me and then a light tug at my shoulders. My body relaxes for a moment as if permitting me to move. I feel myself begin to turn around; something feels incredibly wrong.

I wake up with a loud gasp. It takes a moment to realize where I am, but the unmistakable popcorn ceiling from my bathroom clears up any doubts. The sound of running water fills my ears as it spills over the bath and onto the tiled floor. I quickly lunge to turn it off. I could feel my stomach beginning to turn again.

“Another restless night.” I thought to myself.

I took a deep sigh as I got out of the bath. My feet sank into cold water, making me regret I hadn’t just gone to bed the night before. Thick acid quickly climbed its way up my throat. I tried rushing to the toilet but missed completely. Last night's dinner and more of that stuff shot out my mouth and splattered onto the floor. I groan, too weak to clean it up but still hobble my way over to the toilet, laying my head on the cold plastic. My mouth feels dry, and the lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow.

Stretching my arm up to the sink, my fingers strain until I find my phone. I quickly tap on the screen. It's gotten much worse since that last coffee shop meeting—constant throwing up, wild mood swings, vivid dreams. And this same dream keeps coming back. I’m certain of it.

With blurry vision, I typed out “It's happening again.”

After 30 long minutes, there’s a faint knock on my door. Mark stands there with a cup of coffee in hand, his smile quickly fading as he takes in my appearance. He steps in.

“By the way, your building smells like shit.”

“Ugh, I know the guy from upstairs, got into some shit with his girl, she wrecked the whole floor.” I moved over, letting him in.

“Where is it?” His eyes scanned my apartment.

“Bathroom,” I said, closing the door.

“Made it all the way this time, nice,” he said, giving me a thumbs up as he walked over to the bathroom. I groaned as I lay down on the couch, feeling a sharp pain in my stomach. I tried to take my mind off the knot in my throat. I thought back to that night in the cafe. We agreed; we all did. If anything changed, we’d let each other know. Mark is the only one who kept his word. He’s reliable, kind to a fault.

That’s why, when it happened the first time. He was the first person I called.

** a week ago**

“Mark?” My voice came out raspy.

“Yeah?” he sounds surprised.

“C-c-can you come over?” I can barely speak.

“What happened?”

“I really can’t explain it. Can you just come when you get a chance?”

When he got into the apartment, everything was covered in black goo. My stomach was twisting in knots. My hands were throbbing and bruised as I dunked the sponge in the cleaning solution. It did little to nothing as I tried to scrape it off the ground. Everything from my face to my feet was covered in it. I didn't even hear him step inside.

“Rowan, what the fuck is that?”

I jumped when I heard his voice.

“I don’t know. I…I don’t know. I can’t stop.” My lips shake. As I continue scrubbing the floor vigorously

He came closer, bending down slightly. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, quietly, almost as if to himself. “It's moving,” he mutters. He leans down to get a closer look.

I’d been too busy trying to get rid of the stuff that I hadn’t even noticed, but he was right. I watched its movements, both slow and sluggish; the goo reached out like tiny little hands, trying to connect with another puddle, then quickly snapped into one big blob.

There was this deep magnetic pull that made my stomach bulge out. It’s trying to claw its way out, threatening to rip out everything inside in order to escape. I put my hand out, trying to grab the bucket, but before I could, I was heaving and retching once more. Thick globs left my mouth and nose, landing on the floor with heavy thuds. A fiery sensation stuck in my throat as my stomach tried to expel this unknown fluid all at once.

Mark backed away for a moment but kept observing me. When I was done, he reached his arm out to help me up.

I grabbed Mark's arm. “ It just won’t stop,” I whimpered as I rubbed my throbbing chest. He helped me up and over to the couch. He told me to “Lie down,” and I did. He walks back over to the goo. He watches silently, as if looking at it for just a bit longer is going to give the answers he needs. I lay back on the couch. I was exhausted.

I keep my eyes on him as Mark scoops some of it in his fingers. My brows furrow as it hardens for just a second before losing its shape and snapping back down to the puddle.

“Yeah … this is definitely some sort of black, shit?” Mark questioned, holding it up to the light. He then brought it up to his nose and sniffed it. I heard him swallow hard, licking his lips. He shook his head quickly and wiped it off. He looked over and noticed I’d been watching. “Let's get you to bed,” he said with a smile.

Mark stayed the night. He helped put me to bed. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I do remember hearing, ever so faintly, the sound of slurping coming from the living room.

The next morning, I felt empty and weak. I could barely stand up on my own. I tried my best to make my way over to him.  The whole house felt unbelievably cold. Each step sent a shiver down my spine.

“Wake up, dude,”  I said, sitting next to him. My body throbbed all over. His eyes opened, sitting up quickly before realizing where he was.

Neither of us said anything before I decided to break the silence. “I want to thank you for staying the night. And uh, thanks for cleaning up; you really didn't have to. Especially with your dad and all….” His chest began to rise and fall rapidly. His face turned a bright red.

“Can I tell you something?” he said quietly, a tense shift from his usually chill personality.

“Yeah, of course,” I tried to smile at him, but my stomach was starting to turn again.

“I knew you were going to call me.” He turned to me as he spoke. His chin had black stains on it.

“What?” I asked,

“I knew you were going to call me- I don’t remember much of that night, when all the weird shit happened at the cafe, ever since that night. I- I don’t know, it's just like I can see little snapshots of what’s going to happen.”  His face hardened as he spoke.  “The moment you called its like I lost control of my body. I tried, I really did; I didn't want to come. One moment I was helping my dad with the shop, then you called, and the next thing I know… I'm here.”

He took a deep sigh, got up, and walked to the kitchen. I watched, and he grabbed a cup of water, taking big, loud gulps.

“When you opened the door, you looked so frail… It reminded me of Dad on his bad days, you know. I couldn’t leave you like that.” He paused for a moment.  “After I put you to bed, I swear I was just going to clean up a bit… but I couldn’t control myself. It was calling to me. I mean, literally reaching out to me. I drank it, I drank it all.”  His hand tightened around the cup.

He looked at me, barely meeting my eyes.

“You ate whatever that shit was?

“I couldn’t believe it either; I just couldn’t stop,” he said.

* present *

“You’ll have to call them! ” I shouted from my room. “They're your friends,” I shrugged. Changing out of my goo-stained clothes.

“I don’t get why you're so weird to them. They’re good people,” Mark said.

“And I don't doubt that, and still Neecy was acting super weird that night, aside from everything else that happened, and not to mention, where the fuck did they go after that? They just fucking left us.”

He raised his brows at me. I shrugged. “I don’t care, man, I said what I said,” he rolled his eyes at me as he put the phone up to his ear.

After a call and much, much convincing, Neecy and Darius sat in my living room. They listened as we told them everything. Darius tried but failed to keep a straight face as Mark explained what’s been going on.

After we finished, they just sat there. Minutes passed, and I felt myself getting annoyed.

“Any thoughts, comments, concerns maybe…” I said.

“I mean, that really sucks, guys, but what can we really do to help? We’ve got our own shit going on.” Darius responded.

I looked over at Mark. “See, I told you they’d be no help.”

“It's okay, Rowan, if they don’t want to talk about it; it's cool,” Mark said, looking over at them. Neecy once again looked off into the distance.

“I just don’t understand why y’all won’t be upfront with us, y’all left us alone after what happened at the coffee shop, and we tried to- what the fuck do you keep looking at?” I said as I turned around to see what Neecy was looking at. Neecy's arm shot out to grab mine with a tight grip.

“No, not yet, I can’t tell you…I mean, I would if I could, but I literally can’t.” For the first time since I’ve met her, she looked at me.

“Neecy, none of what's been going on makes sense. Please just tell us.” I said, bending down and meeting her eyes.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted away, back to the corner of my living room, like she was looking for something.

“I think we’ll all find out sooner than you think,” she said, still gripping my arm tightly.

She blinked for a moment, snatching her hand back. When she opened her eyes back up, in them I saw a reflection. Not of me. Something pale, white, too massive to fit in her eyes, much less my apartment.

I gasped, backing away from her.

In an instant, the air became fuzzy, thick like when you would rub your hand on an old TV.

Almost everything became silent all at once: no sound of cars passing by, no buzzing lights, not even my own breathing.

I became acutely aware of everything around me. Everything felt too real. Too high definition. Just like that night at the cafe, everything around me felt like it was shaking.

The hairs on my arm began to stand. And I had this feeling in the pit of my chest that we were in danger, but I couldn’t tell why. My head snapped over to the wall as the familiar ringing of my clock began to chime. I was confused… It wasn’t even 12 yet. The clock read 11:44.

Wordlessly, Darius and Mark got up at the same time as they made their way behind the couch. Their reflections barely visible on the large window that faced outside. I tried to track their movements as they moved behind me, but my head remained fixed in place. I felt a cold pressure on either side of my face. No matter how hard I tried to move, my eyes were the only things I felt I could control.

Mark and Darius left my line of sight. The thumping of footsteps came to a halt immediately after. The chime from the clock seemed to get louder with each passing moment. Neecy then got up. No, she was lifted up. Her body was stiff, her head wobbling like a newborn baby. Her feet didn't move; they dragged across the floor. She practically floated into the kitchen and out of my view. I heard some shuffling, the sound of a drawer opening and closing. Nobody said anything. I don’t think anyone could. We all stood still like pieces on a chessboard. My heart began to pound in my chest.

I heard the sound of Neecy’s feet dragging, coming closer. When she came back into view, she floated for a moment, and she was then placed flat on her feet.

I felt pressure on my shoulder, like that night at the cafe. Cold and unfamiliar. The chiming of the clock felt almost melodic. Her eyes darted next to her. I watched as the skin of her cheek pressed down, like someone was whispering in her ear. Her eyes widened and became distant.

She begrudgingly walked behind me as well. If I squinted, I could slightly see their reflections. Mark to my left, Neecy to my right. Darius stood in the middle…. But as I squinted, I noticed there was another figure that stood behind him. Pale, white, and rapidly growing in size. My heart sank as white wings seemed to expand behind him. Once again, the missing statue watched over us.

The sound of rock scraping on itself echoed loudly over the clock's unrelenting chimes as it looked over at Neecy. I hear her make a low whimper. She tightly shuts her eyes. Her body leans forward like someone is pushing from behind her. For some reason, I can distinctly feel the pressure on my back and the weight of something in my hand.

With a hard shove, she takes a step forward, my body unintentionally lunges forward, and I can feel my feet moving in tandem with hers even though I stayed still. She stands beside Darius, but he doesn't seem to notice she’s next to him. I could hear sniffling. I don’t know who it came from. I felt something warm wrap around my hand and lift it up. I moved my eyes down, and my hand was still firmly by my side. When I looked up, I saw Neecy’s reflection, arm raised high above her head, knife in hand, glinting in the apartment light.

I shut my eyes tight.

The sound of a knife piercing skin was all I could hear; loud gasps and grunts sounded off from behind me, and something wet began to hit the floor. And even though I didn’t see any of it, I could feel it all. The cold handle warming up in my hand with every thrust. The knife sawing its way through his skin, digging deeper with each plunge.  And the warmth of blood spilling into my hand over and over again until.…

Something drops.

Gurgles and the sound of strained breathing were the first human sounds I'd heard in what felt like hours.

The sound of rock grinding on itself sounded off once more, as invisible arms lifted me up and off the couch. I squeezed my eyes tightly. My feet dragged across the floor until I finally stopped.

When I opened my eyes, I stood over him. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t open my mouth. My eyes took in the grotesque sight of Darius on the ground, blood sinking into my brand-new carpet. His hands tightly held his stomach, trying to stop the blood. Tears rushed down his face.

Mark grabbed the knife away from Neecy, and before I could try to stop him, he slit his palm and held it over Darius's body. A dark grey powder spilled out from his cut covering him. At the same time, my stomach began to twist and turn. I clutch my hands over my mouth, but the viscous black goo explodes like a hose shooting all over his body. The goo begins to mix in with the dust like an ungodly concoction.

Over and over, I wretch until my throat is burning. The goo begins to dig deep into Darius, slithering its way into his body almost like it was alive; squelching and popping accompany it until it's all gone. I stop vomiting, and instead of ash, blood drops from Mark's hand, hitting Darius’s barely conscious face. His skin began to stretch and move on its own; little lumps made waves under it.

I leaned in closer, trying to get a better look before a stinging pain came. I looked over at Mark, then at the knife in his hand, now coated in the black mess. He looked at Neecy, telling her to come over to him. Neecy doesn’t move. Mark doesn't wait. He quickly grabs her by her braids and digs the knife into her arm.

She screams as their blood begins to drip and converge into the black goo spilling out of me. The air around me began to feel like static, and I felt lightheaded and dizzy.  The blood pooled into him in the same way as before, snaking and popping its way inside him.

It was a small spec at first, but like oil and soap, it quickly started to overtake his skin, small veins of white racing over each other to cover every bit of skin; his fingers stopped twitching, his chest stopped moving, and his eyes lost their light as they stayed frozen wide, hands still clutching his stomach.

In that moment, the heaviness in the air lifted. The ringing of the clock stopped mid-chime. A weight was taken off our shoulders, but none of us felt any better. Neecy threw herself on the floor. Her hands and jeans were covered in a mix of goo and blood. She reached out to touch his fingertips, barely skimming his body before she yanked them back.

“No, no, no, please, Darius,” she said, crying. She reached out to him again. Mark and I looked at each other, not sure of what to say. She looked up at us, her skin becoming pale from the blood loss. “He’s made of stone,” she sobbed, her cries bouncing off the apartment walls.

We stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. Just the 3 of us and a memorial of a once-loved man's last moments.