Dear Diary | Proxies

v. patched jackets and sleepy cuddling

Dear Diary,
You'd think I'd be wearier of strange men, but it seems not.

I was almost scared that I had scared all of them off after a few days of not hearing from anyone. It had only been three days, but the thought still ran through my head. I had thought to call Brian, seeing as I had his number, but I didn't want to seem weird. Well, as weird as one could get after I literally let him finger me in his car after knowing him for only a few days.

The masked figures were still here, though. They alternated between the frowny-faced one and the white and black one. I sighed as I leaned my head against the windowsill. It was almost nightfall, meaning they'd come back soon. I knew I was supposed to be terrified of them, especially after learning that they weren't my imagination, but I couldn't find it in myself to be. I almost felt protected.

I stared longingly at the moon as it rose through the sky, painting everything in pale shades of gray. My window was open so I could listen to the crickets, though I instantly perked up at the sound of footsteps. These were heavier than normal, though, and slower.

I had almost sunk into hiding, scared of something new popping up, but I caught sight of the white mask before I did. Why was he moving so slow? I stared as the moon reflected first on his mask and then slowly illuminated the rest of him.

I gasped. His normally clean cargo jacket and jeans were torn in places and covered with blood, almost as if he had been fighting an animal. I moved before I truly thought about what I was doing, barely catching sight of him reaching a gloved hand over to catch himself against a tree before he fell. I rushed into my bathroom and pulled out a cheap first aid kit I kept in my bathrooms for emergencies and ran out the backdoor, almost falling as I stumbled out.

The man seemed caught off guard at me going outside and took a hesitant step back before I yelled "wait!" He faltered, staring at me.

Oh, he was taller than me, six-foot if I were to guess right. I let out shaky breaths as I stood in front of him, holding out the first-aid kit.

"Can I- Can I patch you up, please," I spoke between heavy breaths, not used to running. "It's okay if I can't, but I don't want that to get infected." I haphazardly pointed to the deep cut on his forearm, his jacket sliced as well to reveal it. I could see so many more littered across him now that I was closer.

I watched him take a gulp and then a deep breath before he fell to the ground on his butt, his feet sprawled in front of him. I took this as a yes and kneeled down beside him.

"Can you take your jacket off so I can work better?"

He made a low grunt and leaned forward, unzipping the jacket slowly and shimmying it down his shoulders revealing a white tank top. I took a moment to stare at his arms in awe before quickly moving to work. He stayed quiet as I patched him up, not even flinching when I cleaned him with peroxide. He just watched me, only moving to check that there was nothing around us every few moments before returning back to watching. The most obvious injuries seemed to be on his arms, but I fixed one near the bottom of his calf as well.

I almost wanted to ask if he would take off his mask so I could see if I needed to fix anything on his face, but I didn't want to overstep my boundaries. Again, as much as you could considering he was the one constantly in my yard.

I sat still for a few moments when I was finished, listening to the crickets. "Is there anywhere else," I questioned, finally looking back at him from the ground.

He didn't move for a few moments and then slowly shook his head 'no' and began climbing to his feet.

"Do you talk at all?"