The Faceless Obsession

Emília Gray 

I was three months behind on rent.

I didn’t know how to pay it, much less where to get the money I was missing. I was already working as much as I could in a day, being a medical student, but it wasn’t enough. If it were, I certainly wouldn’t be drowning in debt.

"Either you pay this week, or you’re out."

The first option was almost impossible, unless I sold my body, my soul, or something like that.

The second option couldn’t be real. I was too young to be homeless.

"I’ll try," I replied.

"I don’t want attempts, Emília. I want the money, no excuses."

I walked the route to college with my head throbbing. I considered stopping by human resources, trying to convince them to give me a spot in the campus housing. But the answer wouldn’t change. Even if I was a scholarship student, the best in my course, I had no guarantee of a room.

My life would change if I got that spot. I wouldn’t spend my time doing monthly calculations and saving coins just to guarantee some food in my stomach. And yet, there I was, considering squeezing more hours into a day for yet another side job.

I spent classes distracted on my phone, looking for jobs that didn’t demand too much from me. I already worked at a laundromat. It wasn’t heavy work, but it was hours I lost just to earn a third of a minimum wage.

I was screwed.

"Do you want one?" Kayleen Cullbert asked, offering me a cigarette.

As soon as classes ended, I decided to go to the rooftop of one of the campus buildings, hoping to clear my head. My problems were hammering against my neurons nonstop, making silence in my mind impossible.

"Stop being a bad influence. I already told you I’m not smoking anymore," I grumbled.

She laughed.

"You’ve been saying that for two years."

"Forgive me if I relapse," I mocked, and she stuck her tongue out.

"You’re the gymnast. You shouldn’t even be holding a cigarette."

"What cigarette? I don’t even know what you’re talking about."

I rolled my eyes.

"Where’s Penélope?" I asked curiously.

My best friend shrugged.

"That’s a question with many possible answers."

"I’m here!"

The girl’s shout made me turn my head in her direction. I was lying on the cold ground, and Kayleen was leaning her body against the safety railing.

"Where have you been?" I asked as soon as she arrived, out of breath, and sat beside me.

"Watching our athletes’ open practice."

"Ugh. Disgusting."

"Cut it out!" Penélope gave my leg a light slap. "You missed a great show of butts and muscles."

"I didn’t miss anything," Kayleen defended herself. "Actually, my eyes gained a lot."

I couldn’t hold back my laughter.

"Penélope, you’re beyond saving," I commented.

"You two don’t know how to live. By the way, hot Asher was there."

My mood soured.

Kayleen’s eyes landed on me, but I avoided reacting. I had gotten used to sharing the same space with those boys over the past few years. They walked around the university like any other students, just like me. Four years ago, the four boys had been declared innocent, so no one could take away their freedom.

Like me, they had also been affected by Dante, who left marks so deep they reached the organs. I believed the betrayal hadn’t only affected me, yet I kept questioning why they acted as if they didn’t know each other.

The five boys who were once united by sharing the same trauma now acted like strangers. It was as if that bond no longer existed.

"He’s not that hot," Kayleen commented, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"You two need to see an ophthalmologist."

"Speak for yourself."

My best friends kept debating nonsense, which made me choose to stand up and lean against the rooftop railing, contemplating the upper grounds of the campus.

I noticed how far we were from the ground. One fall and I would break every bone. One simple mistake and my heart would stop.

I always wondered if death would solve my problems. If it would be willing to erase my pain, giving me access only to the good things I had in life. Because every day, when my eyes opened, nothing good crossed my mind. I only had bad things to cry about.

I only had bad things to hate.

I didn’t like holding grudges, but whenever I remembered him, my heart turned into a starving beast, consuming every good part I had. It was a constant pain.

He planted a cruel side in me, hungry for revenge, but useless. I had no way to fight him.

Why was I thinking about him?

I tormented myself with guilt. I believed him and was naïve enough to ignore the warnings.

But even as I condemned myself, it was impossible not to hate him for the cracks he left in my chest.

"Emília, are you okay?" Penélope interrupted my thoughts.

I sighed, turning to face them.

"I’m going to be homeless."

"What?"

"Why?" they both asked in unison.

"I don’t have money to pay. My landlady gave me an ultimatum."

"Oh my God, girl," Penélope sighed. "You can stay with me and the girls. Seriously."

I shook my head immediately.

"I don’t want to depend on you."

"You won’t be depending on anyone," Kayleen stated. "You’re being stupid by not accepting help."

"Honestly, I don’t even know why I brought this up," I admitted, walking to grab my backpack and leave the area.

But they stopped me before I could move.

"Don’t even think about turning your back on us," Penélope warned. "We know you’re stubborn as hell, but not about this. We’re offering you a place to stay."

"For how long? I don’t know if I’ll ever have enough money to get a new place. It was the cheapest one in the city, and even then, I failed," I gritted my teeth, furious at my own financial problems.

"And the inheritance?" Kayleen dared to ask, and I had to fake disinterest.

"I don’t want to live based on that."

"But it’s your only option."

"Nonsense," Penélope muttered. "Emília’s going to be an amazing doctor. You’re almost done with your degree."

"That’s if I can finish," I lamented, exhausted. "Let’s change the subject. I’ll figure it out on my own. Don’t worry."

Kayleen and Penélope exchanged glances and silently agreed to accept defeat. But I knew that sooner or later, they would bring it up again and do everything to make me accept their terms.

"Let’s head home. I’ll give you a ride," Penélope suggested.

As soon as we went down to the park, a crowd caught our attention. Groups of students were whispering among themselves. Even after so many years, rumors were still the city’s greatest source of entertainment. And Olympus University’s too.

"People are staring at the players’ asses, aren’t they?" I asked, scanning the area critically.

"I think they’re talking about the Empty Faces."

Several thoughts crossed my mind in that second, flooding me with strange, erupting feelings.

They had many names. There was no exact definition of what they were, how many there were, or what they wanted.

People treated them like a secret society. The mystery surrounding them was only fed by word-of-mouth stories from people who claimed to have seen them.

According to descriptions, they wore black coverings from head to toe, wandering through the night as if they were Gods of Death. Some said they had only seen one. Others claimed there were more than ten.

Some believed they were mystical figures, waiting to hunt the first sinner who crossed their path. Others believed it was impossible for anyone to have a story to tell. The Empty Faces didn’t let anyone who saw them return to normal life.

They would be killed, tortured, completely annihilated.

They were discord, recklessness, danger.

The police didn’t comment on the matter, so there was no way to know if they were as real as we imagined. According to the newspapers, the deaths and disappearances didn’t always have any connection to them. They were hunting something. That was certain. They dug, explored, and longed for a goal that was beyond our understanding.

Not everyone was their victim.

So the only remaining question was: who were their true targets, and who would be next?

"I don’t know why people find this so entertaining. What those monsters do is serious," I commented.

"You thought Dante was part of it," Kayleen jabbed, making me swallow hard.

I hated myself back then.

I investigated everything I could about the so-called Empty Faces and found nothing that satisfied my curiosity. I could have sworn he was involved, but I came to the conclusion that I was just behaving like someone obsessed, feeding my anger and resentment with the idea of tying him to my past.

Whatever these Empty Faces were, it wasn’t his profile.

Dante was shaped by night, shadows, and danger. His essence was painted in the same colors as the word cruel. Anyone knew what he was capable of, but everyone also knew it was for his own revenge. He didn’t move in groups. It had been proven that he acted alone.

So the possibility of him being involved was almost nonexistent.

"And I realized I was wrong," I concluded.

The girls accepted my answer. They knew how much I couldn’t stand the idea of thinking about him, which only got worse if we actually talked about him.

Dante was all my worst parts, and I was trapped in them forever. Even in death, I wouldn’t escape the life sentence of having my mind tied to him in the most twisted way possible.

"Yeah. You’re right."

We got into Penélope’s car. She was the only one of us who had one, besides being the one with the most money.

I didn’t envy her, but I felt inferior when it came to the two of them.

I needed to turn my life around, but I knew that would only happen once I had my inheritance.

I stepped into the modest apartment. The space was small, quite cozy and warm. I shared it with the landlady herself, who gave me a room of my own, plus access to the kitchen and bathroom.

For years, I had grown used to a larger space, to maids cleaning every inch I stepped on or dirtied, to food always ready on the table, with the fridge overflowing. That’s why it was torture to feel hungry and open the tiny cabinet full of dust and find only a single can of corn.

I sighed.

I had a few coins to buy something on the way to the laundromat, so I better start walking.

I decided to slip out quietly so the woman wouldn’t look me up and down, judging me for the late payment.

I zipped up my black coat and pulled up the hood, with some difficulty since my curls tended to gain volume as the day went on.

Since it was winter, even though it was only six in the evening, the streets were already dark. The city’s lighting was something the government didn’t care much about. They had abandoned it after crime rates worsened and part of the tourism shifted to other cities.

There could be a plausible explanation for why the news was always led by someone who had disappeared, children who had been kidnapped, or families who had lost their women. But no one offered a real theory. People simply accepted that our world was a walking nightmare and that our lives were targets the moment we stepped outside.

Of course, I couldn’t be a hypocrite. I knew the many forms a nightmare could take, and I had once found it beautiful. Now I was resigned to living in misery and dealing with the consequences of my actions.

Anguish pulled the trigger on my regrets, and I wanted to cry immediately.

How I hated my life. Hated the choices I made. Hated how my heart had been such a damn idiot to put me in this situation.

I hated the thirteen-year-old Emília Gray. The one who accepted the outcast boy. The one who loved him.

The one who, one day, would have been stupid enough to die for him.

"Shit," I cursed, furious at myself for the tears running down my face.

I turned at the first corner to hide.

I hadn’t moved on. I replayed the same figure, once painted in vivid, striking colors in my mind, now sordid and vile. The memories I had of Dante were false and corrosive.

The sound of his violin, his laughter, the way he used to call me beautiful things no longer gave me butterflies. They bred bacteria in their place.

I took two breaths before continuing on my way because I had a job to get to, but I collided with someone.

"Oh my God, I’m sorry. I was—"

I froze when I noticed the dark details covering him.

As soon as I looked up, my stomach dropped.

I tried to find eyes, an expression, but I was lost in darkness.

He had no face.

I couldn’t see it.

It was empty.

His large body, every inch of his skin covered by a black cloak, the hood hiding even what I imagined to be the level of his eyebrows. His face was wrapped in what looked like a dark filter that allowed him to see out, but prevented anyone from seeing him.

A thousand thoughts crossed my mind in that instant, and the first of them was to run. But before I could escape the alley, my neck was seized by large hands and my mouth was covered by the same.

"Where are you going, princess?" he whispered, like poison. "We have some unfinished business to settle."

I tried to strike him with my elbow, but he was strong.

"Behave. Don’t you want to be a good girl for the captain?" he mocked.

My lungs squeezed out what little oxygen remained in them.

I recognized that voice immediately, and the unhappy memories flooded in.

I couldn’t believe it. It had to be a lie.

But he was back.

My nightmare had returned.