I don’t like being the friend Sarah vents to, but she won’t leave me alone Another boring, meaningless day draws to a close as I dump my barely touched takeout in the trash. I don’t have much of an appetite these days, sometimes I feel like I’m stuck where I am. Nothing really sparks an interest in me anymore, not since Sarah started making her nightly visits. I groan and trudge reluctantly towards the kitchen sink, which is filled with dirty plates and bowls caked in dried, crusted chunks of food. I had been putting them off for a week now, and I know I can’t leave them there forever. I wash them. It takes forever since my shitty rag can’t scrub anything off. I feel like I’ve been working on this for years when a sudden, numbing spike of dread drives itself into the back of my neck. I freeze, and my eyes glance at the wall mounted clock next to me. It reads 10:20 PM, and I know exactly what that time means. I tear my eyes away from the clock and focus solely on the dish mountain in front of me. Don’t turn around, I command myself. Just stay focused, ignore it. The front door slowly creaks open, even though I am certain I locked it. I hear the sound of boots dragging themselves towards me. My breath shortens and my body tenses. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray it leaves me alone. I feel its eyes boring into the back of my head, and I only relax the slightest bit when I hear it take a seat at the kitchen table. “Hey, Jeremy,” it greets, almost casually if not for the clipped edge in its tone. “Got a second?” I exhale slowly and resume scrubbing away at a fork. “Y-Yeah,” I force out. “H-How’s it…going?” A scoff. “It’s going like shit, honestly!” it exclaims, and I can imagine it throwing up its hands in frustration. “First I wake up late for work because that goddamn neighbor I keep complaining about kept partying all night AGAIN! Seriously, I have half a mind to make a fucking noise complaint already! I caught sight of that asshole when I got in my car too. All smiles and waving at me like he didn’t give me sleep deprivation. Seriously, what a dick!” I nod in agreement, even though I know that neighbor committed suicide six months ago after his girlfriend cheated on him. Behind me, there’s a subtle shift in movement that sends alarm bells ringing in my head. The chair groans with age as the thing sitting it stretches and sighs. “So of course I get to work and my boss is just THE WORST!” it continues with a bitter snarl. “He’s saying dumb shit like ‘you made a commitment to the team’ and ‘we need every cog in order to function’.” It’s getting frustrated. The atmosphere plummets into a freezing temperature. I see my breath condense in front of me, and it’s getting hard to breath. It feels like water fills my lungs. I grip a bowl so tight it cracks down the middle. The thing stops talking and I feel it gazing at me again. “You okay, Jeremy?” it asks, almost innocently. “…” I open my mouth but no sound comes out. It still feels like I’m choking. A sensation of cold, bitter water rushing into my throat prevents me from speaking. I almost collapse but grip the sides of the sink like a lifeline. Instead of speaking, I nod silently. A moment stretched over an eternity passes by. The thing sighs and I hear it lean back in its seat. “Anyway…” it trails off, still gazing at me. I wave for it to continue, and it does. “So now everybody is acting like the reason we’re behind on our project is ME, which is bullshit! Like hell it is, I’m the only thing keeping these idiots afloat, they’d all be clueless without me. Especially the boss, I swear he only got the job because of his daddy’s money!” It’s true, but what I don’t say is that the boss got caught in a laundering scandal that got him fired and disowned by his father a year ago. “So I’m basically strong armed into staying in late while everybody else gets to go have fun, you know? So now I’m doing everybody else’s work like ALWAYS, except this time there’s no getting a thank you afterwards. It’s complete bullshit, you know?” It growls angrily and I hear its nails claw into the wooden kitchen table. It lets out a short, shallow breath and grumbles something under its breath. “So finally I get out at like 10:15, and I just can’t wait to get home at this point. But then just when I’m passing over the bridge, I find this asshole is tailing right behind me. And of COURSE his fucking high beams are practically blinding me! So I’m trying to speed up to get away from this guy but he just keeps following me, and then if you can believe it-“ It stops talking. Silence hangs over us as it lets out a wet, shaking breath. “It…bumps into me,” it whispers. “And I lose control of the car and…and I…I-“ Sadness fills me as it struggles to comprehend what happened. I want to comfort it but I can’t bear to look at it. I’ve only caught a glimpse of it once before and I wouldn’t wish that sight on my worst enemy. Pale and bloated, covered in a slimy sheen of river water. Half its face rotted away, glaring at me with eyeless sockets… A misshapen, bloated hand rests itself on my shoulder. Terror strikes me like a bullet as I realize it had crawled to me. I begin to hyperventilate and shiver intensely as a ragged, waterlogged breath caresses my ear. Shit, shit, fucking shit! It’s not supposed to be this close! Why is it on me?! I wonder if I’m going to die, if it has finally become too lonely and wishes to bring me into its eternal suffering. “It’s just not fair, is it?” it whispers to me. My eyes sting with tears as a vile, ungodly stench that reeked like cold, rotten meat permeated around me. It’s broken nails dig deep into my shoulder, drawing out pinpricks of blood. “Why did today have to be so shit? What did I do to deserve this? To live like this?” I have no answer, I can’t think of a single thing I could say to salvage this. I become aware of piss streaming down my quivering legs. This is it, this is how it ends for me. “…” Silence, until finally a deep forlorn sigh breaks the tension. The nails retract from my skin and the clammy hand pats my shoulder. “I guess you wouldn’t know,” it decided, and I feel its presence fading from my side. “Have a good night, Jeremy. See you tomorrow?” No. No, dear God, no! “O-Of course…” I groan weakly. “Thank you…” It’s gone, and I collapse to the floor in a heap. I shift into my stomach and upheave everything onto the floor. I’m practically swimming in my own vomit but I’m too relieved to be alive to care. I begin to sob, not only for my situation but also for what that thing that visits me used to be. Three years ago, my best friend Sarah lost control of her vehicle, causing it to crash over the town bridge, leading to her drowning in the river. Before she crossed the bridge that would lead to her death, she had sent me a text asking me if she could come over and vent to me about how bad her day was. I said yes, and she’s been coming over ever since.