We were alone.

“You- you’re not Sam!” My eyes widened with fear as he tossed my phone onto my bed.

“No shit. Now sit down and shut up.” He eyed me. A mask covered his mouth and he wore all black, shaggy like his hair.

He walked over and unzipped his bag. He pulled out a knife and shoved me onto the bed with one forceful push.

”I remember you- wait! aren’t you Sam’s old middle school friend? D… something?” I tried to rack my brain to remember. I had seen him at school only once before in class and Sam had mentioned his name in passing.

He didn’t reply, but instead chuckled. It wasn't a no.

He began to rummage through my drawers pulling out all of them. The knife still in hand. He turned his attention to the closet.

“Sam gave you a key on the third date y’all went on and told you to keep it. Where is it?” He pulled out clothing and other junk from the drawers.

“How did you-?”

“I watched as Sam gave you the key that night and then I followed you home after he left you at the restaurant.”

This key means a lot to Sam and he wouldn’t just hand it over to someone he didn't care for. He stepped closer to me as my heart beat faster.

I curled up on the bed as I felt his hot breath linger in my face. What a putrid smell. His eyes looked me up and down until he caught sight of the chain around my neck that was barely showing from my shirt.

I immediately clutched it and he put the knife up under the chain. I could feel the cold smooth blade touching my skin.

“Stop!” I shouted.

“I know that you have the key!” He countered. He traced the blade along the chain and pulled out the key.

It glimmered in the evening light. He grinned with a wide smile, still admiring the key.

Now was my chance. I leaned forward and put my hand on his chest. The knife balanced between my life and death. I leaned forward, my lips a few millimeters away from

his.

“I didn't take you for a cheater,” he purred.

“And I didn't take you for a thief, but here we are.”

He seemed dazzled by me and for a moment his hand loosened. He realized my intentions and tightened his grip on the knife.

In one swift motion he cut the chain necklace and the key fell into his palm.

”Didn’t Sam tell you?” The fake Sam started to laugh as he twirled the key between his fingers.

“Tell me what?”

“Sam has terminal cancer and that key is his life.”

It made sense. No wonder Sam showered me with gifts every time we went out on dates and told me he loved me every chance he got. Tears began to flow from my eyes. I wasn't afraid of the knife. I wasn't afraid of this man, but I was afraid. Afraid of losing Sam.



“Why didn't he tell me?”

”He tried to.” He sheathed the blade. Inside of his pocket he withdrew a letter that Sam wrote.

“I guess he just didn't… care enough to tell you.” He lifted the key and the letter to my line of sight and pocketed them.

“Where did you-?”

He put his finger to my lips to shut me up.

“Your mailbox, obviously. I read it before I walked in. Troublesome, isn't it? Not knowing when he could die and yet he didn't have the heart to tell you the truth,” he continued.

“Now… if I were your boyfriend. I would have told you on the second date. I’d get you invested first and let you down slowly. Romantic, right?” he circled around me.

“Romantic!” I goffed. “Please, even Sam’s name is romantic.”

He unsheathed the knife and in one fell swoop put it under my chin and whispered in my left ear, “Mmm… but he can’t beat mine. In case you were wondering it’s Damien.”