C

It was a Friday evening, and I found myself driving through a neighborhood that seemed less than promising. Even though I worked as a Trial Clerk, a job that revolved around the legal field and crime. I typically did not care what others did in their free time. Which is why, I decided to go out with Corey. He was easygoing, different from the office type she was used to. He smoked pot, which was fine by me, even if I didn’t indulge. I knew that when he said they’d go to the movies, I would be meeting him at his house first. What I did not expect, though, was what my eyes saw.

I pulled up to the address. The house was a small, run-down place tucked between two crumbling buildings. The yard was overgrown with weeds, and there was a tire on the porch, half-hidden beneath a pile of mismatched furniture. My heart raced a little as I parked. I was not used to clean, sterile places—places that were organized, this really was not out of the ordinary . My eyes darted around, analyzing everything—anything suspicious. I took a deep breath, reminded myself that not everyone could afford nice things, including myself. I was not there to judge.

I walked up to the door, still feeling out of place. I did not even raised my hand to knock before the door swung open. Corey, grinning from ear to ear, stood there in a worn T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice a little more sluggish than I expected.

“Hey…” I smiled, something was extremely off.

“So, uh, ready to head to the movies?” I asked, hoping he was not as nervous as I was

Corey scratched the back of his head, looking around as if searching for an excuse. “Actually, I gotta finish up a few things first. You don’t mind waiting, do you?”

I hesitated. Something about the way he said it, the lack of urgency, made me feel uneasy. But I couldn’t just leave now, could I? I did not want to be rude.

“Sure,” I said, though I was already mentally trying to figure out an exit strategy.

He stepped aside to let her in, and I walked into what could only be described as a chaotic mess. The smell of stale air mixed with something unfamiliar—maybe incense, maybe old food? I was not sure. It didn’t help that the living room was filled with stacks of papers, pizza boxes, and laundry that looked like it hadn’t been folded in days.

I tried to focus on not freaking out, taking a deep breath as I turned to face him.

“So, uh, you just need a minute?” I asked, noticing the TV in the corner where an anime series was playing in the background.

Corey plopped down beside me on the couch, stretching his legs out. “Yeah, just gotta finish a few things, no biggie. You watch anime?”

I laughed nervously, unsure of how to respond. “No, not really. I, um, don’t really have the time for it.”

The conversation shifted quickly after that. He talked about how he was into all sorts of things—cars, mechanics, music, and, of course, smoking pot. I was not shocked to hear it, but hearing him mention it so casually was another thing.

“I smoked before you came over,” he said, as though it was a confession. “Helps with the anxiety and stuff.”

That wasn’t the worst thing in the world, right? I nodded politely, though I was starting to realize this wasn’t exactly the “date” she had imagined. The movie was off the table. I was stuck there now.

“So, what do you do to relax?” Corey asked, his eyes glazing over a little as he leaned back into the couch.

I hesitated. How much could I really say about her job in criminal justice? It wasn’t exactly a soothing field. But maybe he could relate, she thought. Maybe he would panic thinking, if he did this to another girl he would be arrested. I don’t know.

“I don’t know... work’s stressful. And, well, I’m a little nervous right now,” I admitted, feeling my anxiety rise again, even though I knew it was irrational. I glanced at the door as if it could somehow provide a way out.

Corey seemed to take that as an invitation to dive deeper. “Yeah, man, I get it. Anxiety’s a bitch. I deal with a lot of that, too. And depression... but, you know, I try to push through it.”

I nodded awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t the first time I had heard someone talk about their mental health struggles, but there was something about Corey tone, so flat and matter-of-fact, that made my skin crawl. It didn’t help that the longer I sat there, the more his conversations dived deeper into his mental health.

“Yeah, I’m not great with it,” Corey continued, clearly lost in his thoughts. “But hey, you ever think about aliens or demons?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Aliens. Demons. I firmly believe a demon in my basement,” he said, voice low and conspiratorial. “I hear it scratching at the walls sometimes. Screaming, too. It’s been like that for a while.”

I stared at him, trying to process his words. Was he serious? Was this a joke? The room felt like it was closing in on me and the mess around me, the unsettling sounds in the background, only made things worse. I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation settle over me. Maybe the demon in his basement was his ex-wife he kept complaining about.

“I... I think I should go,” I said, standing up quickly, my heart pounding. “My babysitter doesn’t last long?”

Corey looked at me, surprised but not offended. “Yeah, sure, no problem,” he said, getting up from the couch too, though he didn’t make any attempt to walk me to the door.

I did not want to stick around to hear more. I walked quickly toward the door, my mind racing. As soon as I was outside, I practically ran to my car, barely pausing to look back at the house.

As I drove away, I let out a deep breath, trying to shake off the strange feeling in her gut. Maybe I should stick to her safe, predictable world from now on. No more mechanic potheads with demons in their basements.