The Deadman

He sat alone in his dimly lit apartment room, his eyes darting back and forth as if following unseen movements. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his breathing was shallow and ragged. He clutched his head in his hands, as if trying to keep something from bursting out. Suddenly, he let out a blood-curdling scream and collapsed to the floor, convulsing wildly.

Tendrils of ethereal mist began to seep out of his ears, nose, and mouth, taking on the shape of a wraith. The wraith hovered over his body, its eyes glowing with malevolent glee as it began to do something to him. His screams turned into maniacal laughter, and his body twisted and contorted in ways that seemed impossible.

The wraith's tendrils reached deep into his body, as if searching for something. It was almost as if the wraith was trying to match the man's very essence with his own, leaving nothing but an empty shell that could be worn like a suit at any time. His eyes turned cold with an unearthly glow and empty as he then slumped down on the floor.

He breathed out. He looked around him as if something would pounce on him suddenly. He had not left his apartment in days, and had barely spoken to anyone. He was consumed by fear and anxiety, unable to shake the feeling that something was watching him, waiting to possess him. He had heard stories of wraiths, malevolent spirits that could take over a person's body and mind, and knowing one was coming for him?

He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't focus on anything but the fear that he would be possessed. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help it. He was trapped in his own mind, unable to escape the paralyzing fear that consumed him. He was too scared to leave his own apartment, too scared to even open the curtains, for fear of what might be waiting for him outside.

He was isolated, alone, and consumed by his fear. He was too scared to seek help, too scared to tell anyone what was happening to him. He knew they would think he was crazy, that there was nothing to be scared of. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was waiting for him, that it was only a matter of time before it possessed him.

He would stay awake for days at a time, staring at the wall, waiting and guarding for the wraith to come for him. He was in a state of constant anxiety and depression, unable to find any relief from his fear. He knew he was slowly deteriorating, both physically and mentally, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was trapped in his own mind, prisoner to the fear of the wraith that may possess him.

Kato wondered if this was the price of taking another man’s body? Is this the same fear the previous owner felt when he was moving his body? Did Robert Oswald feel this same fear as his mind and soul disintegrate?

Every waking moment was filled with dread. He was plagued by nightmares of the Deadman possessing him, taking over his body and mind. He would wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, convinced that the Deadman was in the room with him. He would spend hours pacing his apartment, checking every corner and crevice, looking for any sign of the Deadman.

The once tidy apartment was now cluttered with books, articles, and notes about wraiths and possession. He had become obsessed with finding a way to protect himself, to keep the Deadman at bay. He had tried every method he could think of, from exorcisms to charms, but nothing seemed to work.

And yet Kato knew that the Deadman would still come for him when the time came.

Kato’s physical health began to deteriorate as well. He was losing weight, his skin was pale and dehydrated, and he was constantly tired. He had become a shell of his former self, consumed by fear and obsession. He knew that he needed help, but he was too scared to reach out. He was convinced that the Deadman would take over if he left his apartment, and that it would be the end of him.

He spent his days in silence, only communicating with himself in his mind. He would talk to himself, trying to come up with ways to protect himself from the Deadman. He would spend hours in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection, trying to detect any signs of possession. He had become a prisoner of his own mind, a victim of his own fear. He was suffering, and there was no one who could help him.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, his condition continued to worsen. He was becoming increasingly paranoid and delusional, convinced that the Deadman was closing in on him. He would spend hours barricading his doors and windows, using furniture and other household items to fortify his apartment. He had even begun to wear a necklace of charms around his neck, believing that it would keep the Deadman at bay.

His physical health had deteriorated to the point that he could barely stand. He was emaciated, with dark circles under his eyes and a wild, haunted look in his gaze. He hadn't bathed or changed his clothes in weeks, and his apartment was filled with the stench of sweat and fear.

His mind had become consumed with thoughts of the Deadman and how to protect himself from him. He was convinced that it was only a matter of time before it possessed him, and he would spend hours researching different methods of exorcism and protection. He had become so obsessed with the Deadman that he had lost touch with reality.

He could feel it. The brand on his left hand ticking, pulsing, and mocking. Continuously reminding him that the brand will be summoned and he will lose the body to the Deadman to fight some creature.

***

Julie had been worried about her friend for weeks. She hadn't seen him in a while and none of her messages reached him. Although it felt like it wasn't her business. She recalled the look on his face when he visited. The asshole had the look of a man trapped, cornered by something this man actually fears. She decided to check on him, figuring he might need some help. And that she couldn’t lose her customer to her already bare bar. She knocked on his door, but there was no answer. She called out his name, but still no response.

Fearing something might be wrong, she decided to let herself in. She found the door unlocked and walked inside. The apartment was in a state of disarray, furniture overturned, and papers and books scattered everywhere. The smell of sweat and fear filled the air. She looked at the books placed on the side.

“Was he into these kinds of things?” Julie wiped what seems to be a grimoire.

As she walked through the apartment, she found him lying on the floor in the living room. He was not moving. There was a snapped rope next to him. She immediately checked for a pulse and found none. She began performing CPR, compressing his chest and blowing air into his lungs while calling for a paramedic to arrive. She didn't give up, even when the paramedics arrived, she kept performing CPR until they took over.

The paramedics were able to revive him and he was rushed to the hospital. Julie was relieved that he was alive, but deeply concerned about his condition. She couldn't believe that he had been living in such fear and despair. The scene was disturbing, and she couldn't shake the image of him lying there, alone, consumed by fear. This man held no fear in Julie’s eyes. He was the kind of professional mercenary that wouldn't flinch at the sight of a gun. And yet he was lying on the floor, helpless, unable to even breathe. How could someone like Rob be put into such a place that would warrant him into becoming like this. She didn’t understand. It just doesn’t sit well with Julie how it was possible.

Or was all that bravado and stoic fearlessness merely a mask? Did the dam keeping his emotions contained finally broke? Julie didn’t know. A good part of her wanted to just let him solve it by himself.

But she couldn’t do it.

She does admit she can be quite an bitch, but she wasn’t the type to leave her friends in such a state of helplessness. She knew the feeling. Being trapped and cornered. It may not be as much as what he seems to be in, but nonetheless she could understand it.

She knew she had to help him, and she would do everything in her power to support him and help him while he’s in this state. Julie stayed by his side throughout his recovery at the hospital. She learned about his fear of wraiths and how it had consumed him to the point of attempting suicide. She listened to his story and could see the pain and dread in his eyes.

Hearing about it made her think that it was all metaphors, but she has a gut feeling warning her that learning more about that side of the story would endanger. She kept telling herself that it was all metaphors for his demons and how bad it was that he started referring to them as wraiths, ghosts, magicians, and demons. Sincerely believing, at least hoping to believe, that this was all a coping mechanism for him.

She knew that he needed more than just physical healing, he needed emotional and psychological support as well. She tried to reach out to his family, but found none. She did find help through his previous Boss and Gu was willing enough to watch him over when she felt tired. She couldn’t abandon her job so most of the time she would have Gu, who was happy enough to watch him over as long as he was being paid and could watch his shows to take time to watch him. As for money, although she helped out, Rob had a lot of money in his account that covered most of the treatment and recovery.

After he was discharged from the hospital, Julie helped him move into a new apartment, at least near her apartment where he could start fresh and she can check up on him in case he does something stupid again. She helped him find a therapist who specializes in treating anxiety and phobias, and she visited him regularly, providing him with emotional support. But the therapist didn’t work out well. He almost punched the guy for some reason. She had to pull her out. He had enough money in his account and was able to survive without working to which Julie envies. Though she must admit that she was also making use of this helplessness of him to eat better meals and she didn’t know why, but she wanted this asshole to be better.

Slowly but surely, the man began to heal. He started to eat better and take better care of himself. He began to sleep better, and his nightmares of this monster began to fade away. It's still there. But in a way he seems to accept his fate of being possessed by this monster. Though there are times where he was asking if someone else visited him. And every time Julie said there was none. There was a deep sadness that came to Rob’s face. It took more weeks for him to regain spirit and slowly he was able to get that fire back on his eyes.

His dried up, emancipated figure was no longer around. Though she does admit she did like the muscular yet dehydrated look he had.

Julie was happy to see him recover, she felt that she had played an important role in helping him overcome his fear and she was glad to have been there for him when he needed her the most.

“You look fucking happy,” he said, while lifting a set of weights.

“Rob, I think I’m a good person. Aren’t you glad that I'm your friend?”

He shook his head. “Well… you took at least 50k from my bank account.”

She grinned and crossed her arms. “For your own good. Also, never make me do this again. I’d kill you. Leave you to rot in that place.  Fucking asshole.”

"I'll try," he looked away.

Despite it all she could sense that her friend had accepted something. She hated the look. And yet she knew it well that this was all she could do for him.