At no point did I expect visitors, so you can imagine why this startled me:

"Heard you're sick."

My stomach sinks to the floor at the realization that HE is here. No, not that monster-in-human-skin Amon. Someone just as contemptuous. Sulk Young. I glance toward the back door that I'd stupidly left open to find a young man leaning against it. A short cigarette dangles from his dry lips while flecks of ash blow into the breeze. He looks like death, as usual. In truth, he's the complete opposite to Amon in every way, with ruby red hair chopped short, big eyes with small irises and dark purple eye bags to match. He's always got one eye obscured by bushy hair, giving him that scene look you see in old magazines. For once though, he's not wearing his signature over-sized coat. I've known the guy forever, though we're not close by any means.

He's a devil, you see.

The pair of slightly curved, pitch black horns, the long, wire-like hooked tail that drags behind him, and sharp, pointy teeth are all dead giveaways. He couldn't hide it even if he tried. Like me, he got his fair share of bullying growing up, and we never once stood up for each other. Maybe he resents me for that, because every once in a while he'd drop in like this to harass me. It's just my luck running into both of these guys in one day.

He takes a drag and cocks his head to blow smoke outside. "Nothing to say? Soar throat?" he asks, his groggy voice floating inside like the poison smoke he loves so much. 

All I can muster in response is "Oh" like a fish out of water. Here I am, in the kitchen still dripping wet from the bath wearing nothing but a raggedy beach towel around my waist. What am I supposed to say?

The staring contest persists until my brain gets a jump and I awkwardly fumble around the kitchen for a used shirt. "I'm fine," I mumble under my breath, wishing I'd kept the stupid face mask on. I bathed to wash off all the sweat and now I'm sweating again. 

"Oh," Sulk pauses a moment to put out the cigarette--I shit you not--in the palm of his hand. Because that's normal. 

I manage to snatch an old shirt out the seat of a plastic chair and struggle to get it on without my towel dropping. My hair hasn't dried yet so of course, I am once again dirty and wet. This is my life now. I glance at him out the corner of my eye, mind racing for something to say--anything at all to make this encounter less awkward. A tall order when you're half naked.

Eventually, a crooked grin splits his face, showing off every jagged tooth. His small brow twitches slightly but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls a fresh cig out his pocket, lights it, and bows out silently, disappearing somewhere behind the house. Just like that, I can breath again. 

When did I start holding my breath? ...I guess he still makes me uneasy.

Sulk's never done anything to me personally, but I can just tell by the way he looks at me: A mixture of disinterest and disgust. I'm someone who is below even him. The lowest rung on the social ladder. Even if the rest of the world treats him like trash, he can swing by my place for a good chuckle or two. In a way, it makes him even more intolerable than the guys who beat me up and spit in my face as a kid. I just wish he'd leave me alone, but I know he'll be back in a few days.

I wait until the sound of boots scuffing the dirt fade to silence before I fully relax again.

It's only hours later, while languishing on my beer-stained sofa, that I realize something strange.

"Heard you're sick."

What did that mean? Heard from who? I swiftly sit up, causing the book I'd been reading to slip down into my lap and slap shut. Didn't even get a chance to stick a bookmark in it. Drops of sweat come rolling down my neck and back from the relentless heat--which reminds me I really need to buy a working fan.

But back to the point. 

I can't get the words out of my head now. I don't talk to anyone like that, why would there be gossip about me being sick? The thoughts keep swirling round and round in my head but it doesn't make sense.

Then I hear it.

An odd dragging sound, like a heavy object being pushed along the dirt road outside my house. For the third time today, a twisted sense of trepidation ties my stomach in knots. I can't stress enough how odd it is to receive visitors, how isolated my house is, how lonely this road is. Because the only person who ever uses it besides me is Sulk.

Though it doesn't sound like him. A wild bear dragging a carcass from the woods, maybe? The mere thought of it sends me shooting off the couch to slam the back door shut and lock it. It's rare, but it happens. Morbid curiosity takes hold and I can't help but rush to the nearest window and peak outside. I'd be such a nosy prick if I had neighbors.

The sight that greets me is...

Well, it's not a bear. It's definitely unusual, and still fills me with a sense of dread.

Not too far uphill, I see Sulk's back. He's backing his way down the dirt path, apparently dragging something by the intermittent sounds and his bent form. I swallow hard as he draws closer.

The devil's dragging a naked body. 

Holy Hell why is he dragging a limp, naked body?!

My heart starts racing as the red-head passes by my window, making a point to look me in the face as he does. He wants me to open the back door, doesn't he--oh Gods, have mercy.

I must be more nervous than I thought because I can't even unlock the door, my hands are shaking so badly. I manage though, and Sulk is panting just outside with the dead(?) guy just laying on my doorstep. I swallow again and ask, "Who is that?"

Sulk hesitates a moment, this time not looking me in the eye. He pulls out a bent-up cigarette from his pocket but he can't properly light it. He's shaking too badly. "Do you mind, uh," he hesitates while his gaze lands on everything in my house except me. "Do you mind holding onto this guy?"

Excuse me?

Sulk must have noticed the look of pure 'no' on my face, because he grins crookedly, finally giving up on the stupid cigarette and shoving it back where it came from. "I'll go get help. Just...watch him, yeah?"

I stare incredulously from the body to the devil and back. "What do you want me to do if he wakes up? Who is this guy? Where did you find him? Did you do somethi--hey!"

At some point, Sulk slips away from me and he's up the hill faster than I've ever seen him walk. Thanks for nothing... Whatever. Now that I get a good look at the man, the naked stranger is actually pretty handsome, with a square jaw and rigid browline. He appears to be quite tall, though it's hard to tell when he's horizontal, and has the palest skin I've ever seen in person. Most everyone in Sundown or the other neighboring villages have relatively darker skin, so his tone is unusual in these parts, for sure. His ashy black hair is spiky and wild, yet somehow unreasonably stylish. Not to mention his body...

No no no, not going to go there.

...

It takes time, but I manage to scrabble together a decent sleeping area set up for the guy. The good thing is: the dude's still alive. So, no murder mystery to solve. The bad thing: I still have no idea how in the world Sulk came across this man, or why in the hell he thought it was a good idea to leave me alone with him?!

Am I the police? Am I a guard? Is this a prank? Some sort of twisted revenge?!

If I keep thinking about this I'll scream, or pull my hair till I go bald. Maybe this man took some mushrooms or something and had a bad trip... Or a very good one. The naked guy was heavy as a life-sized block of stone, weighed down by toned muscles that now act as dead weight. It would have been nice had Sulk at least helped me drag him inside... Anyway, I had pushed aside the end table in the center of the living room and laid out a dirty blanket for him to lie on. And for the sake of his dignity when he wakes, I also laid my beach towel across the... important parts? 

You get my meaning.

"I wonder if he's even coming back," I mumble to no one in particularly, every once in a while checking the window for anyone approaching the house. 

Mid day turns to evening in the blink of an eye and the fact that Sulk still hasn't returned has me on pins and needles. I ate, swept the yard, watered the crops, and waited for something--anything to happen before nightfall. I really don't feel comfortable sleeping with a stranger in my house, I have no landline to call the authorities, and I don't want to leave the guy alone here to get help by myself, that is if anyone would even be willing to help me. I might just get accused of something instead.

I'm absolutely stuck.

Another half hour ticks by. I get up to check the window for the fiftieth time when I hear a low, throaty groan. I get startled for a second thinking a frog got inside, but then I see dead-weight-man move and I startle again. "H-Hi," I laugh nervously, pressing my back against the wall as though I could pass through it if I back up hard enough.

The man stirs, moaning through a dry, rusty throat like a mummy waking after a thousand year slumber.

My heart starts racing as he sits up in one smooth motion, almost like a robot from a sci-fi movie. His eyes remain closed for about a minute, before long lashes slowly flutter open to reveal a sea of misty forest green and gold. For a minute he is unseeing, barely fazed by the soft evening light; and then he sees me. Those beautiful eyes lift to my face and my heart skips a few beats.

"Hello," I try again, a little more confident this time.

The room is silent long enough to make me fear he's still high or something. But you know my luck by now. His expression morphs from a blank slate to... recognition? His eyes widen, seem to darken even, all the while staring hard like a tiger would its prey.