Page 5 of Of Monsters and Mazes

I hit send, hoping he would pick up on the distaste through my diction.

Jericho: That’s because it’s not a joke. Nor is it a fantasy. I was quite clear from the beginning, Sela.

I kept waiting for an indication of laughter or a “just kidding” or that saving reference to his underground tabletop RPG group—anything at all that broke the feeling of being threatened. I thought we were doing the sexy banter thing, not sharing his plans for executing his next victim.

It was worse than that though. The references to drugging someone and making them fight for their life—even with the backdrop of monsters and mazes—didn’t come off as innocent, playful fantasy. It read like a subtle confession from someone who felt so powerful and in control that he didn’t need to hide. He was the villain who knew he’d already won.

Me: If this is some kind of game you like to play with your dates, I’m not into it.

I made one more attempt to lead the conversation elsewhere, just for my own peace of mind. As if I might feel less powerless under the oppression of his words if I could get him to admit it was just a creative writing exercise.

Jericho: You’ll warm up to the idea, I promise. And if you don’t, you’ll be dead, so you won’t care. Though I expect you to try your very best to stay alive. I don’t like it when my women die too easily.

Bile settled at the base of my throat.

Jericho: Any other questions? I suggest you ask now, while I’m in the mood to answer. Even if you beg, I won’t be helping you anymore after this.

I drew in a breath and held it. Don’t let him rattle you.

Me: No need because I won’t be playing. This whole game sounds like some one-sided sick fantasy. Why would I risk life and limb to beat you when I already have freedom?

Jericho: Because you won’t once I find you.

Pins and needles. Those words hit me with unexpected force, and I dropped my phone through my shaking fingers. I could physically feel the extra beats in my chest as my heart picked up pace. A cold sweat bloomed from my pores, and a very real sense of fear radiated through my veins.

Pumpkin tried again to come to my aid, nudging me with his cold wet nose, but not even his impossibly soft fur was enough to break my haze.

I stared at those words for entirely too long, still desperate for some disturbed sense of humor in his tone. I gave him ten more seconds, partially to compose myself, and partially in hopes that he would say something to take it all back, but neither came to pass.

Me: I think you can fuck off now, thank you. You can go ahead and forget my face and forget we ever spoke.

I sent one last message, then I fumbled for the block button. I hit confirm, but it hadn’t been fast enough to miss his one, final message.

Jericho: I’ll be picking you up tomorrow. I can’t wait for you to join my collection, Sela Ariti.

My eyes rounded, my lips slackened, and I stared vacantly at the words on my screen.

There was no reason he should know my last name.

Why the FUCK did he know my last name?

How?

I inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to force myself to gather all my wits back into a safe pile, but my whole body was shaking, and my skin was cold and damp. I was going to end up on a missing persons list if I entertained men like this. He’d started out with all the right words, but they always did, really.

It… it was fine. I was reading too much into it.

I was easy to find on a quick search if someone knew my first name and my job. I had credits and interviews all over the web. It wasn’t like I’d told him where I lived, so there was no need to panic. All he actually knew about me was my name and how I looked in a two-year-old picture. It was impossible that he could find me in a metro area that was over 30,000 square miles and had millions of people in it with so little to go on.

Deep breath.

It was much too late at night, and I lived entirely too alone to be flirting with some narcissistic psychopath. It was completely within reason that I’d gotten a little spooked, so I couldn’t be too hard on myself for the feelings in my chest at the moment. Considering how the conversation started, he was probably just talking like that to get a rise out of me. Maybe a guy with a weird LARPing kink, or some dumb teen boy trolling women because his mother didn’t raise him right. The chances of him being a real life stalker or kidnapper or serial killer were slim to none.

Think rational, logical, statistically realistic thoughts, Sela.

Imagine waking up every day as a creep whose only hobby was trying to scare girls on the internet for fun. I bet he was jerking off to my block notification. No need to dwell on this.

I said all of this, but my body was responding intensely in a way that was hard to shake. There was no good reason goose bumps were covering my arms right now. Nothing to justify the instincts that were telling me to lock all of the doors and windows, despite living in an apartment on the tenth floor.