Eliza

My eyebrows furrow at his words. Presents?

"Yeah, those exact ones you're thinking of. The picture frame, the mask, the mirror, and, oh look, that little photo album over there. I bet you were thinking to yourself, how random. Why would somebody send me these things? Well, I'll tell you, bitch," he says, as the smile vanishes from his face. "We all need picture frames to highlight different times in our lives - especially great times. I did you the honour of getting you one to remember a time when you loved your life... And yourself. You're going to need the mask, to hide the abomination that will soon become your face. You're going to need the mirror... Well, you're not. You're not going to want to look at the mirror again after this. I just wanted to throw that one in for a laugh." My breathing becomes even heavier, as tears form in my eyes at the ambiguity of his words - he is explaining things but nothing is making sense. "And last but certainly not least, the photo album. Well, it's similar to the frame really. You're going to want to put all your old pictures in there when your new life begins. Hope you've taken enough pictures, Eliza." He suddenly removes his hand from my mouth, and I get the impression that is because he wants me to ask the question he knows I am thinking.

"How do you know my name?"

"Because, Eliza. I've been watching you. Isn't it obvious?" He grabs me by my hands and slams me roughly against the wall, creating insatiable pain against my back. "That was to make it hard for you to get away. You know, if you decide to be brave and get away." His hand comes back around my mouth, and I see him reach into his pocket, where he brings out a large stone. He then reaches into his other pocket, where my eyes grow incredibly wide at the sight of a box of matches.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I ask, as he pulls out a matchstick from the packet. His focus on what he is doing gives me the motivation to begin running, but the pain in my back slows me down, and I can hear those familiar footsteps behind me again. A force is suddenly applied to my neck, as I am slammed, on my front this time, into the wall.

"I had a feeling you would try to be brave," he snarls as he spins me around, whilst sending me a look of absolute animosity.

"Please, I haven't done anything to you. I don't know you," I whisper.

"Oh, Eliza. Hasn't anyone told you? Not everything is about you. The world doesn't revolve around you. And after today, nothing will," he says, as he brings up the matchstick to my vision. "And this time, if you try to run away, I will catch you. And I will kill you." He lights the matchstick in a hurry, as I wonder what next action he is going to take, although I think I already know what. He applies the fire to the stone, and blows out the slight fire that forms on it. "I've been dreaming of doing this for so long," he says as he presses the object hard against my left cheek.

I instinctively let out a horrifying scream, but it becomes nothing but a missed sound as he covers my mouth one more time. He twirls the stone around on my cheek, as the pain seeps through every particle in my skin.

"I'm sorry that this had to happen to you," he speaks. "But revenge... Revenge is the only way one can properly sleep at night," he continues as my mind is filled with the riddle of who he is. "He... That bastard... That son of a bitch. He left me for dead. And he didn't turn back. He might have thought I forgot about it, and moved on, but I've been plotting all this time. And when I saw where he was living, with you, and saw him out with you. I couldn't let that lifestyle continue." The heat travels to my brain as the realisation of who this man is finally sends shivers down my neck. Theo's stepdad. The stepdad he almost, but couldn't quite tell me about. "I had to show him who the man is," he continues. "I had to show him who won." He lights another matchstick, and repeats the same process he did last time, ending in him rubbing the fresh heat against the same weary cheek, but this time he moves it upwards. "At first, I was going to kill him. He was going to be dead meat. But then I realised that he wouldn't suffer if he's dead. He would only suffer if someone he truly cares about... And loves is suffering. His mom's a bitch that let him down; I can tell he hates her. But you, Eliza... You're all he has. Which is exactly why I chose you," he hisses through his teeth. "Well, at least I think he loves you. He might just be using you to live at that fancy house of yours. But one thing's for sure, he will be led right to my house, and if I have to kill him, I will." He fires up the stone one more time, blows it before applying it to my cheek again. "So, Eliza. You can tell Theo a personal message from me. Tell him I say hi; tell him I say 'I won.' And tell him that this is all his fault. All he had to do was be nice," and at that, he removes the object from my face and throws me to the ground in a rage. "It was nice meeting you, Eliza, you really were a beautiful girl." He saunters off joyfully, leaving me on the floor, as the tears feel free at once to flow.

I slowly rummage through my bag for my phone, and dial my mom's number. The tone of the ringing on the line seems as long as ever, before it finally stops. I call her again, and this time she answers immediately.

"Honey, I'm at work," she says.

"Mom," I cry. "Mom, I need your help. This man-he-please come and help me," my voice shudders into the phone.

Theo

My eyes spring open as the sunlight from the window irritates it. I look up at the clock to see that it is ten minutes to nine, which causes me to jump up instantly, remembering what Eliza said about me needing to wake up at around eight. "Eliza?" I call, as I proceed into her room, but she is not there, and her bed is laid, giving me the impression that she's already gotten ready and left. Nevertheless, I head down to the kitchen, where I call for her one more time, but the only sound to be heard is the faint echo of my voice. I sigh in frustration towards myself for not waking up on time, when I'm usually up earlier than eight; but also in annoyance towards Eliza for not waking me up like I asked her to. I plan to go back upstairs to shower, but before my foot touches the bottom step, the draining sound of the doorbell embraces my ear.

When I open it, I am greeted by the sight of nothing but the clear air, leading me to look down and detect a little box on the floor. The same box that Eliza received at the park, on this very doorstep, and at the clothing store. I look at it suspiciously before picking it up and noting that it feels quite soft. I am surprised to see a piece of folded paper inside of it, as opposed to another gift, but the biggest surprise, shock and fear is instilled in me when my eyes read the words on the paper.

"Your girl's real beautiful. It's a shame I put her in hospital. What? You didn't think I wouldn't come back for you, did you? This one's on you, punk. Hope you enjoy the last present I left you." My eyes flow over every word thoroughly intently as the truth finally sets in. My hands begin shaking like they are an earthquake, as the box and the paper drop from my fingers to the ground. Time seems to stop still, and my brain becomes fragmented into little particles as I ponder all the possibilities of what he could have done to her. But all the possibilities that spring to mind send an unnerving wave of terror through me, and my fingers begin to outrageously yearn for her soft, homely touch. He's bluffing, I eventually lead myself to believe. He can't have touched her. Precious things can't get touched by creatures approved by Satan. The world can't allow that.

"No," I eventually say quietly, as I stand still, blinking heavily after each second. "No," I repeat, before I finally slam the door behind me, and begin running. I run onto the Main Street, before I stop and realise that I don't know which hospital Eliza is in, or how to even get there. I spot a taxi parked at the side of the road.

"Where's the nearest hospital from here?"

"The Mount Sinai Medical Center."

"Take me there. Now!" I shout, as I notice him not making any movements.

"I'm on my break."

"Please. It's an emergency. I need to- I'll pay you double, just take-take me there right now!"

"Alright, but only 'cause you said you'll pay me double. So, you better."

I sit back on the seat, my hands still shaking, and my breathing heavy. I wish for the car to arrive at the hospital already - I wish to just be able to see her. Right now. But, the New York traffic seems to be just another obstacle trying to keep us apart.

After what feels like a lifetime, the car finally comes to a stop, and looking at the hospital allows the reality of today to punch me in the face.

"That will be thirty dollars please," the man says as he turns around to face me for the first time. "Oh. You um-you don't have thirty dollars, do you?"

"I had to say something to get you to drive. The girl I-Sorry," I finish as I open the door to the taxi and begin running. I go through the doors and half expect the driver to catch up to me, and report me to a security guard, but I hear no pattering footsteps behind me. I spot a receptionist, and drag my feet to her, bumping into more obstacles in the process.

"Eliza-Eliza Hayes. Where is she?" I say, breathlessly.

"Are you family?"

"No, but-"

"Family only at the moment."

"Please, I need to see her."

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't. It's family only at the moment."

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I think I do. This happens very often."

"I love her. I really love her. I just need to see what's wrong with her. I just need to see her. Please, I have nothing. She's the only thing in my life that makes my life worth living. I can't- I can't lose her. I need to see her."

The receptionist appears to be in deep contemplation.

"You're lucky, because her mother is getting the results of her tests at the moment, so you have a few minutes. Wing 3, Room 12, Curtain 2.

"Thank you," I say as I run down the corridor to despair of more watchful eyes. I pass by Wing 1 and then Wing 2, bracing myself for when I arrive at Wing 3. I search frantically for Room 12, and take a deep breath before walking inside inside the room. I pause before drawing the curtain - hoping desperately she doesn't hate me as much as I hate myself - then finally open it to see a body lying in front of me, still. Her eyes are closed, and I instantly see nothing that could be wrong with her, until I stand by her side and my eyes fixate upon a bloody red mark all over the left side of her face. My eyes increase in size as I take a breath inwardly, but it's not enough. I run out of the room, slamming my back against the nearest wall I can find, and crunching down. My breathing seems to be going faster than normal, but simultaneously, I feel like I can't breathe at all. However, amidst the struggle of every single breath I try to take, one thing becomes clear to me: I need to find him.