❝𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕛𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕝❞creepypasta investigation

he wants me alone₍ₚₑᵣₛₒₙₐₗ ₑₓₚₑᵣᵢₑₙcₑ₎

Something is wrong.

People shift between warmth and cold, their affections flickering like a faulty signal. One moment, they love me. The next, they recoil, as if something unseen has whispered in their ear, telling them to stay away. I can feel it happening—conversations cut short, glances that linger just a little too long, as if they're afraid of what they see when they look at me.

But my lover—he sees more than the others. He feels it. The presence. The weight of something just out of reach. He tells me he doesn't want me to be alone, not now, not with that thing watching. He never says its name. Maybe he thinks that will keep us safe.

But it doesn't.

One night, he woke trembling, drenched in sweat, eyes darting around the room like something was lurking just beyond the edges of the dark. He told me he heard a voice. He felt something standing over him. And then, just as suddenly, he changed.

He said he didn't love me. That he never did. His words hit like ice, his face a stranger's. And then he was gone. Days passed in a haze of confusion and panic, my chest hollowed out with grief, and just when I thought I had lost him for good—he came back. He held me close, whispering that he wanted to grow old with me, that he was sorry, that he didn't know what had come over him.

I forgave him. I had to. I love him. I won't lose him to the faceless one.

I'm not crazy.

But that night... I swear to God, for just a moment, he had no face.

I wrote it down immediately, scrawled it in my diary so I would never forget the fear, the tears, the choking, breathless horror of it. When I told him, he went pale, jaw tightening as if the words had burned him. Never mention that again, he said. And I don't. Ever.

But it's still inside me, buried deep, like rot beneath my skin.

The faceless one doesn't like my lover. He comes to him in dreams, twisting his mind, filling his sleep with screams. Some nights, I wake to find him clawing at the blankets, sobbing in terror at something I cannot see. And then, just as suddenly, everything is fine. Life smooths out. We're happy. We're in love. He doesn't interfere.

But it's a lie. A trick.

I know what this is. The calm before the storm.

Because He never leaves. He waits, patient, lurking in the silence. Watching. And I know what He wants.

He wants me alone.

So I hold onto my love like a lifeline, as if my touch can sew him to me, as if I can keep him from slipping away into the same shadows that swallowed so many others before. I tell myself that if we are together, we are safe. But who can protect us from Him?

No one.

My mind is unraveling, fraying at the edges. The panic attacks claw through me daily, my thoughts spiral, my chest tightens until I can't breathe. I cry more than I sleep. My life has never been easy, but now... now I don't know if I can hold on anymore.

The faceless one doesn't show himself to me like he used to.

He doesn't have to.

He's here in the sickness that clings to the people around me, in their sudden coldness, their exhaustion, their resentment. He's in the way they look at me with something close to disgust. Like they're sick of me. Like they're done with me.

I know what He's doing.

He wants me broken. Isolated. Vulnerable.

But I won't let Him take my love. I won't let Him win.