Annabelle left her bar shift late that night. She walked back to her apartment at a brisk pace, her tidy ponytail swinging from side to side. She would have asked Matt to walk her home, but he hadn’t answered any of her calls. He was probably still mad at her for the other night.

She really didn’t think he was being serious when he said that he was being followed by a muscular bald man with sleeve tattoos and a handlebar mustache. Annabelle had laughed so hard she’d almost spilled her second glass of wine. “Ooo how scary, a circus performer from the thirties is following you home! Wait until the bearded lady joins him!” She said between fits of giggles. “It’s not a joke, Annabelle!” He snapped. She should have been more sensitive. Her brother wasn’t a joker.

But his story was just too absurd, and she was just too tipsy to handle it the way she should have. Matt kicked her out of his apartment that night. She tried to apologize, but the calls went straight to voicemail and the texts were left unread.

She really wished he would respond now. She hated walking home late, with only the street lights and the occasional homeless man for company.

As Annabelle approached west 52nd street, she decided to veer off her normal path and find Matt’s building. It has been two days without communication now, and she couldn’t handle it much longer.

As she started walking down the street, she noticed someone on the other side of the road. He was fairly built, probably in his late thirties, wearing a black beanie and glasses, and… weird, she thought. He had a handlebar mustache. Her heart started beating faster, but she brushed it off, dismissing the absurd thought that popped into her head. There are probably a ton of guys in the city with handlebar mustaches.

She continued walking, but realized that the man across from her changed directions, now heading the same way she was. She picked up her pace a bit, but ignored the man. She was just a couple blocks away.

First, the man removed his hat. Bald. Annabelle chuckled nervously to herself. Weird coincidence, she thought. She still picked up her pace though. Next, the man rolled up his sleeves. Tattoos. A sleeve of them.

Annabelle’s breathing sped up. Almost there, she told herself. Just a few more steps. She practically ran to the apartment complex, frantically pressing the buzzer for apartment 24C. “Matt, let me in please!” She said hastily, checking over her shoulder. The man was beginning to cross. Shit. She pressed the button again. “Matt, I believe you.” She whispered.

No answer. The man was within six feet of her. She checked her purse for the spare key. No luck. The man was right behind her. He touched her shoulder and she screamed. “I’m sorry ma’am. Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wondering if I could get into my building?” The man said in a smooth southern accent. Annabelle sighed in relief. Of course this man wasn’t following her. This was just his apartment building.

“I’m sorry about that.” She said, moving so he could unlock the door. “Are you trying to reach someone?” He asked. “My brother is ignoring me, if you don’t mind letting me in, I’d like to speak to him.” Annabelle said. The man smiled. “Why of course.”

Annabelle stepped into the apartment building, the man holding the door for her on the way in. “I’m over in 25C.” The man said. “Wow, right across from my brother!” Annabelle said. They walked up the stairs together and Annabelle knocked on the door. No answer.

Annabelle grunted in frustration. “I might have another key, hold on a minute.” She said. The man waited patiently, not opening the door to his own apartment yet. Annabelle’s hand enclosed around a small, metal object. “A-ha!” She proclaimed.

Annabelle put the key into the lock and twisted. The lock clicked and she turned the knob.

She let out a small gasp before a hand clamped her mouth shut and held her waist firmly. Matt sat tied to his dining room chair, mouth duct taped closed, and eyes carved into two X-es. Annabelle felt a sharp pain in her neck and started to loose consciousness, but not before seeing a slender young lady emerge from the bathroom, twirling the ends of her long beard between her finger tips.