It Followed Me Home

A Story by Angel Boy

A little fan fic I wrote for The Mandela Catalog - it can be read as its own thing

It Followed Me Home

“-there was a new victim last night…”

“Have you heard what they're calling these things?”

“Alternates�"”

Mark sighed softly as he overheard the conversation, walking along the tiled epoxy floors. The air reeked with the smell of cleaning supplies, meaning the janitor had recently cleaned the flooring.

The school hallways were loud and crowded. The last bell of the day had rung. Kids were going home or grouping up with friends. Mark pushed open the double doors leading out of the school, taking only a single step before he was hugged from behind.

“Amar!” A familiar, upbeat voice called from behind. It was Cesar, Mark’s best friend and partner.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” he recalled, looking over his shoulder to see Cesar's toothy grin and freckled face.

“You need to stop worrying, amar. There are barely any Español speakers here in Mandela County.”

Mark let out a sigh at his words. Cesar was probably right. If anything, Cesar’s family might be the only fluent Spanish speakers in town. But it still worried Mark. If the church found out that he was dating the same sex, he would be done for.

“Alright, but just tone it down a little, okay…?” he requested.

“Sí!” Cesar agreed, releasing Mark from his bear hug.

Mark started walking along the cracked sidewalk. Cesar followed beside him, skipping over the cracks. Someones in a cheerful mood.

“What do you say we head to my place? Pasar el rato?” he suggested as the two continued to walk along the sidewalk, leaving the boundaries of the high school.

“Can’t, my parents are out of town and my sister is at a church camp. I’m stuck on house-sitting duty,” Mark explained.

A pout appeared on his partner's face.

“Está bien, I’ll see you on Monday then, sí?” Cesar asked, earning a small nod from Mark. Cesar waved goodbye as he turned the corner into an alleyway. Mark gave a small wave back as he watched Cesar trudged through the moss-covered cobbled path.

Mark continued walking along the sidewalk. The chilled breeze blew through the air, causing an occasional shiver despite the sweater he wore. He could see the oak trees lined up against the sidewalk gently swaying in the wind, the occasional leaf being plucked off and carried away by the breeze.

After a while, Mark made it to the front steps of his home. The wooden material of the house was in mediocre condition. It was not splintered nor was it polished. The white paint that covered the wood was slowly peeling away. There was a small overhang over the porch, with little arches along the outer ring of the porch. There were a few windows here and there, possessing more height than width, and the roof was made out of bland, rustic-red bricks with a chimney perched on top.

Mark pushed open the door and dashed upstairs to his room. He should have gone and hung out with Cesar. Suck up whatever punishment his parents would have given him. He shut his bedroom door and swung his bookbag from his shoulder onto the carpeted floor.

Mark's room was nothing special. The walls were colored a bland boring tan color. There were a few posters scattered here and there that Cesar had gifted him, complaining that his room needed more decorations, and honestly, Mark agreed, only if his parents would let him.

A cross hung over his bed, along with a dark oak nightstand beside the left side of his bed, which was a medium four-post, unlike Cesar, who had one of those beds with the curtains on the sides. Mark thought it was a little girlish but never told Cesar his opinion.

A mahogany desk sat in the corner with a small ash-colored lamp pushed in the corner of the desk. His leather-padded journal and bible sat in the middle stacked on one another. A bookshelf made of the same wood as the desk housed a few books and trinkets, more items Cesar had gifted Mark. The last piece of furniture in his room was a walk-in closet, that housed nothing but his clothes.

He didn’t own that many items. His parents were weird.

Mark pulled off his sweater and tossed it on the ground, grabbing his journal and a pen from the desk and flopping down onto his bed. He flipped open the journal and started to doodle on the pages.

�"

Mark was jolted awake by the sound of the downstairs phone ringing, rolling over to see the time on the analog clock on his nightstand. Three twenty-four in the morning.

Mark slid off of the bed and made his way over to the door, pushing it open and navigating his way down the stairs in the dark. Eventually, he made his way over to where the landline phone was hung on the wall, he plucked it up and held it to his ear, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“Mark! Oh, thank God you picked up,” Cesar called out through the other end.

Mark’s sleepiness disappeared with the sudden shock of hearing Cesar’s voice on the other side, so much so he didn’t even register the wrongful use of the Lord's name.

“Cesar, it’s three in the morning, why are you calling so late?” Mark questioned, he could hear heavy breathing on the other side, and… crying?

“Are you crying…? Cesar, what’s going on?” It hurt him to hear Cesar crying, even more, that he couldn’t physically comfort him.

“It’s my mom, she’s…” Cesar trailed off. Mark could hear heavy sobs coming from him.

“Hey there, love, it’s going to be alright. Cesar, please tell me what’s going on.” Mark reassured.

“Ella esta muerta, I think It was an Alternate…” Cesar softly spoke, Mark wasn’t fluent in Spanish at all, but the mention of an Alternate only left one possibility: Cesar’s mom was dead…

“Are your windows and doors locked? Are you somewhere safe? Have you called the cops?” Mark inquired, immense worry in his voice.

“Sí, sí… Everything’s locked and I’ve called the cops.”

“Then get somewhere safe, I’m sure they're already on their way over�"”

“No! Por favor, come over, I wanna be with you, amar. I’m too scared to be alone…”

Mark stood there, the phone threatening to slip from his grip. He desperately wanted to help, but it would be dangerous to go out at night, to go to a place with an Alternate lurking around. But Cesar was in trouble, he couldn't leave Cesasr to defend himself. Mark couldn’t leave him there to die, he can’t lose him…

“Give me fifteen, I’m on my way over, get somewhere safe. Please stay alive…” Mark spoke before hanging up the phone and rushing to his bedroom. He plucked his sweater off the ground, and quickly put it on. He stood in the doorway, glancing over at his dresser.

He mentally yelled at himself as he went over and dug out the handgun. He vowed never to touch this. Someone else's life is more important than a vow.

�"

Once Mark made it to Cesar’s place, red flags popped everywhere. The wooden door was wide open and a few windows were cracked open. But even then, Mark carefully crept up to the porch, peering in through the door. He was immediately hit with the smell of iron, blood.

He stepped through the door, the house was pitch black. The smell of iron hung heavy in the air. He called out to Cesar, he was met with silence in response. Mark anxiously walked around the house, coming across Cesar’s room. The door was slightly ajar.

A dim light shone through the opening, everything was telling Mark to go back, to leave, but he continued forward. Carefully pushing open the door, tightening his grip on the handgun he stepped inside, and was immediately hit with a sight he never wished to see…

Cesar’s cold, lifeless body laid on the floor, the blood spewing from his neck stained the polished wooden floor. His gingered hair was a mess, his eyes were wide open in shock, pupils dilated. Crimson blood coated his tan skin, along with dripping down his clothes. There was a kitchen knife sitting a few feet away from his body.

The more Mark started at the sight, his mentions slipped through the cracks. He was overwhelmed with guilt, grief, anger…

Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as his knee buckled out from under him, falling to the ground. His grip on the handgun was so tight his knuckles were turning white. Why? Why Cesar? Why couldn’t it have been him?

Mark’s breakdown was short-lived as he heard footsteps around the halls, that thing was still here. Mark shakily stumbled up from the wooden floor, clutching the door frame as he looked around. Tears blocked his vision as he tried to scan around in the dark, looking for the source of the footsteps.

That’s when he heard it, laughter. It sounded like metal grinding against each other. Those creatures were good at copying appearance, but not voice. Mark quickly reacted, running out of the room and through the front door.

�"

Mark had frantically locked every door and window in the house, before returning to his room and sitting on the bed. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm himself, but the image of Cesar’s body was still there. That’s when he heard it, the soft footsteps of the creature. It followed him home…

“Mark~” The voice called out, it somewhat resembled Cesar’s voice, minus the grinding and distorted sounds mingled in there.

“I have a surprise for you~” It sang.

Mark’s heard the new reports and the rumors around school about how these creatures work. About how they tempt their victims to kill themselves with psychological warfare, how they only become hostile if attacked, and how they steal their victims' identities afterward.

Mark wasn’t going to fall for it, he couldn't, not only was it a sin, he had to stay strong for Cesar, he had to stay alive for him. Mark curled up under the covers. It had to go away by morning, right? It wouldn’t stand outside of his door all night, right? They weren’t that persistent, were they?

Mark awoke to the sound of… scratching? He groggily sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Mark~” The Alternate called out. It was still there. Mark was effectively trapped in his room, with no way to call for help. The only phone in the house is down in the kitchen, and there was no way Mark was opening his bedroom door with an Alternate lurking outside.

He would just have to wait, wait, and hope that the creature goes away, or that help arrives, and hope that help arrives sooner than later.

“Mark~”

The best thing to do was to keep himself occupied. So, he grabbed his notebook and started doodling.

The Alternate didn’t seem to be in a hurry. It just stood outside the door, not attempting to break it down. It didn’t seem to be in the mood to play mind games on Mark either, only calling out his name.

Maybe he was safe.

�"

It was now day two and the creature was still there, calling out to Mark and scratching at the bedroom door, hunger and thirst were already starting to get to him. He didn’t keep snacks and drinks in his room, his parents wouldn’t allow it.

Ignoring the Alternate was becoming difficult, not only was the mimication of Cesar’s voice starting to affect him mentally. He just didn’t have many things to distract himself with. He’s tried reading the few books he owns but it became difficult to concentrate on with the constant scratching on the door.

Eventually, his paranoia started to get to him. He pushed his desk chair against the door knob. Once the sky began to turn to dusk, he started obsessively checking the lock on his window. Every footstep he checked, every scratch he checked, every spoken word he checked.

He was on and off with doodling and writing in his notebook, but just didn’t have the energy, and after a while his emotions caught up to him again. The events that happened that night, Cesar’s body… He curled up under the covers of the bed and wept in his grief until he passed out from exhaustion.

�"-

It was day three and Mark had already lost his mind… curled up in the far corner of the room. He hadn’t stopped sobbing ever since he reawoke. Thoughts ran haywire in his head, along with a loud ringing sound that filled his ears.

He clutched onto both his rosary and the bible, with the handgun lying a few feet away from him. He had started rehearsing lines and phrases to bring comfort to himself. He would occasionally get down on his knees and pray with the rosary, desperately pleading for someone to save him from this hell, for God to forgive him.

Mark didn’t understand what he had done to deserve this. Why was he being punished like this? Was it his and Cesar’s relationship with each other? Even with all he has done to follow God's rule and while keeping Cesar happy, it still wasn’t enough.

As he wept in his self-grief he felt the handgun hit his foot, he glanced up, looking around in confusion before his eyes landed on an…angel…?

Their figure was tall and slim, with soft facial features. Long, curly golden hair flowed down to its shoulders, it was wearing long, white silky robes, along with a pair of tanned sandals. A pair of big, fluffy bird-like wings were folded behind its back.

“Do not fear, little lamb. Your prayers have been answered,” The angel softly spoke, Mark gazed up at the angel in awe, his prayers had been answered…

“I’m here to bring you to paradise,” The angel calmly spoke, picking up the handgun off the floor and offering it to Mark. He looked up at the angel, puzzled.

“I don’t understand…” He murmured, the angel's smile grew wider.

“The living can’t enter Heaven,” It explained, Mark was taken aback, the angel wanted him to…

“But it’s a sin!” Mark replied.

“Says who?” The angel questioned.

“The Bible-”

“You humans made up your own rules, you don’t follow the rule of God.” The angel interjected.

“What about my family?” Mark meekly asked, and the angel softly giggled.

“Don’t act like you care about them now.” The angel mocked, “Don’t you want to see Cesar again?”

“Cesar, he made it up there?” He questioned, the angel nodded.

The angel's smile grew even wider as its pupils dilated, shoving the handgun into Mark’s hands.

“Pull the trigger.” It tempted, holding onto Mark's hands and positioning the handgun under his chin.

“Pull the trigger.”