 The first time I saw him was about two years ago. I was at this old country gas station I used to stop at on my way to my sister's house. There were generally never a lot of people there unless my sister's town was having their summer festival. Then everyone wanted to be there and the gas station would be packed. But the night I first saw him was not one of those nights. That night, it was just me and him. A tall, trench-coated man standing in the edge of the shadows at a gas station, praying on anyone who would come there at the late time that I was there. At first, I didn't think anything of it. Maybe he was waiting for his ride, maybe he was just outside for a smoke. Either way, it didn't matter to me. I went inside to pay for my gas, leaving the man out in the darkness as I gave the cashier my card to swipe. He looked out the window to see where my car was parked. Twenty on number two? That's the one. I was right. Alright, here you go. He says handing me back my card. I put my wallet back in my purse as I head out the door but stopped momentarily. The man was no longer in the shadows, he was halfway between where he was before and where my car was parked. His head was face downwards, the shadow that his hat cast was covering his face. This now had me a little bit worried but I continued out to my car in order to put gas in. I could at least be a little bit quicker, even if this was nothing I could get out of there faster if I just hurried. But in my haste, as I was putting my keys into my purse, they fell straight out of my hand and onto the ground into the darkness. I got on my keys and began fishing for it, patting the ground everywhere around me until I finally caught them. I rose up as fast as possible to start putting gas in my car, but instead, when I came up, I was met with the man. He was now much closer, right at the hood of my car, still looking downwards, looking at nothing. I put my keys between my fists, sticking them out like a tiny knife like my mother has always told me to do if I was in a tight spot. Can I help you? No response. Can I help you? I said more aggressively. I wish I had never said that. He began to lift his head up at me, doing so extremely slowly, still completely silent until finally, he was facing me. That night, I was met with the man whose face would haunt me for decades, whose entire being would come to be my worst nightmare. His eyes were completely gouged out with only a bloody void left behind, his mouth non-existent, almost as if it were plastered over or erased. And he was staring with those non-existent eyes, straight at me. I stood there frozen, unsure of what to do. My eyes were washed over with coming tears as he stepped closer, closer, closer, closer. I closed my eyes, so afraid of what was happening until I felt his cold breath hit my face. I let out a small squeak, compelling myself to move to open my eyes and hit him or run. It was so hard to finally creak my eyes open, but as I opened them, I realized there was no longer anyone in front of me. I stumbled backwards, my foot barely just catching me before I fell. Where the hell did he go? Was I just imagining it? No, like I couldn't have. I felt his breath on my face that could not have been made up. That night as I finally drove away from the gas station, I vowed to never go back. I always filled my tank up in the city, always made sure I would never have to stop there ever again. But over the next two years, I would come to realize that my efforts to return wouldn't matter. That man, or thing, became the object of my nightmares for nights to come. It started as small things and dreams where I just assumed my subconscious was still afraid of him and making me dream of him. Maybe some background character in a good dream that would turn dark. He'd appear once or twice as an object of fear in a nightmare along with other monsters I dreamt about. Creepy stuff, but otherwise pretty normal. But soon, he would move his way out of haunting my dreams and manifest into what sometimes would feel physical. I never got sleep paralysis until about a year after being confronted by him, and when it started, I felt as though it was endless. It started as once a month, maybe every three weeks until my sleep paralysis would come every other week, then weekly and then soon almost every night. And every time it would happen, he was the one my brain would conjure up. Or, at least I thought it was my brain. One particular night, about a month ago, as I woke up to the darkness with every limb refusing to move, he was there. Nothing unusual. I mean, I was afraid of my sleep paralysis, I just expected it to happen. That is, until he began to walk closer. He sat on my bed, his non-existent eyes never leaving my line of focus as he did so. He leaned over my body, slowly, slowly, ghosting his hands over my wrist. My breathing had quickened as I tried to make myself move to get rid of this dream. Move, move, move, just move! I wiggled my toes and tried to clench my fist as hard as I could just as my sister had showed me a few months ago. It worked almost every time, but as I gained control of my toes and control of my hands and eventually my body, I realized he wasn't going away. No matter how many limbs I could move or what fingers I could control, he was still on top of me. Tears began to fill my eyes once again, this time it wasn't a dream. He wasn't part of my sleep paralysis anymore. He was here. Just like the night at the gas station, his cold, metallic breath brushed up against my nose. His face drew closer, a drop of blood coming down on my cheek from his empty, fleshy eyes. Help, help, help! I shut my eyes as hard as possible, hoping this time he would go away just as he did last time. And his hands grabbed around my wrist, but eventually I felt them come off. I still didn't dare to open my eyes, nor could I if I wanted to. I felt his body lift off mine. I heard his steps grow further and further away from me, and then the door to my apartment shut. I shot up and opened my eyes to see, and he was gone. Tears were coming down my cheeks like a waterfall and they wouldn't stop. I picked up the phone to call my sister. She was the only one I knew that would freak out just like me and I wouldn't have to feel so alone with my thoughts, but as I picked up the phone, I realized it was no use having to frighten people, not someone who got as frightened as she would. I put the phone back down. That night I didn't sleep. I locked the doors and closed my blinds and turned on every light, and even then I was still terrified. It's been about three months since I've seen him. At first this made me apprehensive as I waited for him to show his face again, but after a few weeks passed I was beginning to ease up. Well, until tonight. The night when I got a call I didn't even know I would dread, but it hit me like a truck. It was almost midnight when I heard my phone ringing. I got up out of my bed half asleep as I walked over to pick up the phone. Jenna, my sister's voice sounded so frightened. Claire, it's midnight. What the hell are you calling me for? Wow, thanks. I was hoping I could get a little sisterly comforting after nearly being kidnapped, but, you know, that's fine. There she goes again, taking a small situation and making it bigger than it needed to be. Claire, whatever you're calling about, I can almost guarantee you were not nearly kidnapped. No, I swear, you have to hear this one. You know that country gas station I stopped by near your place sometimes? Oh no. Yeah? Why? Well, there was this guy there, and I mean, I couldn't really see his face, but he was just staring at me the whole time I was there. I gasped. No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be him. He was gone. I was done with him. Hmm? What's wrong? You said you couldn't see his face? Yeah, why? Claire, I have to go. I'll call you back in a few hours, okay? Oh, sure. I hung up the phone. What the hell? First me and now my sister? I had to do something. What if he did something horrible to her? What if he attached himself to her like he did to me? I picked up my keys and went out the door to my car and immediately started the drive to that dreaded place that I hadn't been to in two years. The country gas station on the way to my sister's house. As soon as I arrived, I turned off my car and hopped out. Where are you, you creepy bastard? He wasn't there, but I knew he had to be. This is where it all started. He had to be here. I walked over to the shadowed area where I first saw him, but there was no sign he had ever been there. I know you're somewhere. I was just about to get back into the car and leave to the station when I heard Claire's voice. I turned to see my sister, hanging from his hands, blood oozing from her mouth. Jenna, help. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening. Let her go. I cried. Let her go. I bolted the man, ready to wrangle her from his arms, but he just disappeared. With Claire? Like a wisp of air he was gone. A vision? It had to be that. Maybe he was showing me what was going to happen to Claire. Maybe not, but I still had to get back to Claire before he did. I got in my car once again and sped out of the gas station, leaving tire marks behind me. The city lights passed quickly as I passed the buildings, each of the luminescent colors only catching my face for a split second. I arrived at her apartment building ten minutes later. I turned my car off and got out when I noticed a thing standing in the shadows of the building across the street. This time though, it didn't even acknowledge me. Instead, his eyes, or lack thereof, were locked on my sister's apartment window. I rushed through the double doors of the building and climbed the steps so fast I almost tripped, and as I finally reached the door I can feel him looming behind me in the air getting immediately colder. I turn around quickly to see him hovering over me like a towering streetlight blood dripping from his eyes onto my face again. But as I look at him, a thought fleets past my mind. This, this wasn't for Claire. This was a trap. I turn around and run for Claire's door, banging in as hard as I possibly can. Maybe if she comes out he'll go away like how the monsters did in horror movies. If only this was a horror movie. The creature slowly begins creeping towards me almost as if he was hovering forward and not taking steps. I banged on the door harder, hoping Claire would answer. God damn it, why wouldn't she just answer? I tried to scream to get her to let me in, but no sound would come out, only squeaks and bits and pieces of my voice. So I bang and bang and bang until I feel his hands wrap around my head. Slowly, carefully. I can't move. His grip is too tight. He picks me up as though I'm nothing more than a small pebble, so light, so fragile. I feel his sharp fingertips against my cheek as he forces me to stare at him, pushing his pointy, claw-like nails through the skin of my lower eye. The blood trickles down my cheek and it hurts, it hurts so much. I can't look away, not now. Not as he pushes his claw into my socket, not as I lose my vision in the same eye as I feel the tendons snapping and snapping apart. I try to pull away, but only break my arm in the attempt of getting out of his inhuman grip. This was it. My vision and my last remaining eye blurred as he began to work on it. I can feel it. My brain going numb. My limbs losing feeling until I felt nothing anymore. This was it.