July 17

Tick, tock. Tick, tock...

I watched anxiously as the clock slowly ticked away. The bird wall clock's hands were placed in the position of 10:44, the minute hand placed across the captions of the nine 'o clock bird: the Red-Winged Blackbird.

Athena had gone to bed two hours ago. I told her I was going to binge-watch Star Trek or something. Instead, I had been drinking apple cider and staring at an old photo, waiting to walk to the re-training mentioned in the masquerade ball letter. Being sentimental and all, I kept many photos and objects, much to the great displeasure of my roommate.

The photo had been taken a few years ago. It showed my friends from C.D.A.D.U.O. and I hanging out at one of the San Francisco outposts and meeting points, the one I was going to tonight. We were seated in a line in front of a bar counter. The dark bar was illuminated by a purple neon sign that read "Brighton's Bar." Behind the counter was the owner, Brighton Rose.

I sat in the middle of the line of five women. On my right-hand side was Anne Arlington and Olivia Walker. They traveled the globe doing opera shows and plays. As C.D.A. agents, their real mission was to gather information, which was why they were part of the department of WCEE, or Worldwide Comms, Ears, and Eyes. Brighton Rose also worked in WCEE. The many things you can pick up from a bar counter are amazing.

On my left was Ava Sencen, part of the Frontlines Exchange program. Frontlines agents did all the action business, like taking enemy organizations down. As a retired, then re-activated Fronlines agent, I knew first-hand how dangerous the job was. I left because of the consequences. The Exchange program sent agents to different outposts all over the globe. Ava Sencen worked six months in Greece and six months in the U.S.

Anne and Olivia always sent us letters updating Athena and me on how they're shows went; That or they just wanted to make sure I hadn't encountered any trouble in the Quiet Life, which was unlikely. Ava had sent us a postcard from Greece expressing her excitement for our rendezvous vacation there. Thankfully, Athena remained clueless about our secret jobs.

Tonight, all of us from the picture would be reunited in the same place, except for one who wouldn't be able to make it.

To my far left was a face that caused me great pain and guilt.

Dabria Jones.

No. I couldn't think about her now. I had returned to an as-normal-as-it-gets job, and I wanted to keep it that way. I flipped the photo over as if some horrible demon would be released if I didn't.

Tick

The clock had finally reached 10:45. I set my glass of apple cider on the counter with a clink. Before stuffing it into a page in a book I had plucked from my pile of books, I glanced one last time at the photo. We had been so happy then. Would it be the same tonight? I shut the book closed, grabbed my beige trench coat from the couch, and walked out of my apartment.

The empty hallway was eerily silent. Packages and beach supplies littered the doorways. As I rounded the corner at the end of the hall, I heard the familiar creak of one of the doors opening. I froze in my tracks, coat hem swishing in my motion breeze. Hesitantly, I backed up to peek my head around the corner. It seemed just as lifeless and abandoned as it was a few seconds ago. I mean, it's not like an entire corridor can change in a matter of seconds.

Still, I had heard a door opening; or, at least, thought I heard a door opening.

I reached into my inner brain. Metis, I called.

"Yes?"

Enable Ghost Vision. 

"Loadi-" Metis' voice drowned in static, like an old car radio being switched to a new station.

Metis? Metis, what's happening?

A buzzing sound reverberated inside my brain, like a vibrating toothbrush. It tickled my uvula as if I had just sneezed really hard. My vision kept flickering from Ghost Vision (a.k.a. X-Ray vision) to normal. Black and white splotches bounced in and out. A splitting headache shot from my temples to my forehead.

My knees were buckling underneath me. Panting, I struggled to stay on my feet. I frantically reached for the hallway corner. Instead of coming in contact with plaster, I touched something soft. It was smooth and gave me the impression it was delicate, like a rose petal. I felt around more. There was a main part, and then it spread into four...five thin parts.

The realization hit me before I looked up. A hand. My gaze crawled up the arm, to the shoulders, to the head. I sucked in a sharp breath. As much as my heart was screaming and pounding against my ribcage, my vocal cords could not. I stared at the face of the hand's body. I could tell for sure that it was a she. But it was her face that made my stomach freeze, squirm around, and then leap into my esophagus.

The thing was: she didn't have a distinct face. Where her eyes should have been were skinned-over sockets. Her nose was nothing but a Voldermort stump with slits for nostrils. Her mouth--or what should have been her mouth--was...nothing. Like the eyes, her mouth was nothing but smooth skin. Her skin looked thin and resembled burnt skin that had gradually healed over time, then plastered over in a smooth, clear resin layer. Framing her face-but-not-a-face was a frizzy halo of brown hair. 

I realized my eyes had started to dry from staring for so long. As soon as I blinked, the no-faced woman vanished.

I blinked in confusion. What happened to my Ghost Vision? Why was Metis not responding? And who the heck was the faceless woman? I shakily stood. As soon as I did, I regretted it. I felt the blood rush through my body, leaving me dizzy. It was like I had been sitting on the couch for too long.

When the floor's swaying slowly faded, I called into my head.

Metis? Metis, what's your status? Did you just see that? 

I waited for Metis to reply and say she had played a very cruel joke on my Info-Lenses. Unfortunately, nothing. Metis remained silent, most likely because of a--for an easier way of saying it-- "circuit shortage."

Out of paranoia, I peeked around the corner one last time, just to support the possibility (or hope) that I had hallucinated. The corridor was as eerily silent and empty as any corridor would be at this hour.

I stumbled to the elevator and jammed the button. My own apartment was playing tricks on my eyes. A shiver raced down my spine as the elevator doors opened and I stepped inside. I took one last look down the hall as the doors slid shut. With any luck, I'd make it to Brighton's Bar in one mental and physical piece without any more faceless people ambushing me.