Part 1

Originally posted on r/nosleep in 2018. Edited for spelling, grammar, and flow. It's still not great, but it's old. Cut me some slack.

Garry was an asshole. He was one of those people you could tell emanated an aura of pure douchebaggery from the moment you met him. He was a manipulator and a narcissist who took pleasure in making everyone's life a living hell. He was also incredibly charming and could talk his way out of nearly any situation, making it hard for upper management to take complaints against him seriously. Should you ever find yourself working with someone like Garry, you had better learn to keep your personal life private because there was nothing in the world he loved more than exploiting others. Well, except maybe himself.

My coworkers kept family photos and mementos of trips and triumphs scattered around their cubicles, little reminders of why they pushed themselves so hard for a corporate entity that cared very little about them. My cubicle was spotless, free of any clutter that could give away too much information about who I was outside the office walls. Similarly, I rarely talked to anyone I worked with. Sure, there were a few people I genuinely liked, but only a couple who knew anything about me. Doris the cat lady and Randy the hardcore wrestling fan. Doris was a highly religious widow, and Randy had high-functioning autism. They were the only people in the entire office who knew how to keep their mouths shut.

I had the misfortune of having a cubicle next to Garry's. Garry knew everything there was to know about everyone in the office. Hopes, dreams, likes, dislikes, fears, kinks. Everything about everyone, except me. I was a mystery to him, and he didn't like that. So, he spent more time trying to pry the information out of me than working. One of his strategies was to brag about himself nonstop until I got so annoyed that I had to try to one up him with stories from my own life. Of course, I never fell for it.

So last night I had an amazing three-way with Travis from accounting and that cute little receptionist downstairs.

That's nice. I hope you remembered to wear protection.

Yeah, I got a great-uncle who's about to kick it. And once he does, I'm up for a 5-million-dollar inheritance.

That's very nice. I'm happy for you.

So, Meg, what are you doing for vacation this year? I thought I'd hop on my dad's yacht and spend the entire week just partying it up with the sexiest people this city has to offer.

Oh, that sounds like fun. I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet.

Eventually, he realized he wasn't going to get anything out of me with idle chitchat, so he started talking about more personal things. He went on and on about his amazing family - his 5-year-old prodigy niece, his brother working his way up in Hollywood, and his friends - all of whom he'd manipulated into being his friends one way or another. Still, I wouldn't give him what he wanted.

Then he resorted to talking about fears. I suppose he was trying to make me feel like I could trust him by confiding in me about his own supposed fears. He claimed his biggest fear was spiders. He said the anxiety they gave him was crippling, that he always had to check every surface of any room he was in to ensure there wasn't a spider nearby. He mentioned how he once tried to get over his fear by holding a friend's tarantula but flinched and sent the poor creature flying across the room.

I guess he expected me to confide in him in return. Instead, he reluctantly slunk back down his cubicle wall after I held his hand and told him, "It's okay. Someday, you'll be able to conquer your fears. Just take baby steps."

Garry took it to a whole new level when I arrived at work one morning to find a giant, fluffy tarantula slowly making its way across my keyboard. I scooped it up in a box and took it to my supervisor, suggesting that someone must have "lost their pet." When no one claimed it by the end of the day, we sent it to an exotic pet shop across town.

Another day, I found a simple brown box sitting on my desk. I opened it, and out crawled dozens of cockroaches. My coworkers in nearby cubicles lost their minds as the disease carrying pests scattered across the office, but I kept my cool. Then there was that time I found my cubicle walls plastered with posters and pictures of clowns, and a human-sized clown doll sitting in my chair. It was actually quite cute. I calmly took down the pictures but kept the doll on my desk for a week until my supervisor got too many complaints about it being creepy. I still have it. I keep it in my car as a night driving buddy.

One morning, management came to us pitiful drones and announced that the crew that normally cleaned our building had gone on strike. Being that they were the cheapest cleaners in town, they refused to hire another company. Instead, he offered everyone in the office some extra cash, paid under the table, if we'd stay late to do the cleaning. Nobody else seemed all that excited to stay after hours to clean someone else's mess, but Doris, Randy, and I took the offer. Money is money, and it wasn't like any of us lived particularly exciting or busy lives outside the office.

By that time, Garry had stopped trying to get in my head. I figured he'd done all he could to coax my fears out of me. Dozens of surprises meant to shed light on my one weakness, all gone to waste. Anyone else would have given up.

Garry was not like anyone else.

We'd been cleaning the building for a week and had a system set up. Doris cleaned the first floor. Lobby, cafeteria, two conference rooms, and bathrooms. I cleaned the second floor. Main office, bathrooms, hall, and break room. Randy took the third floor. Executive offices, bathrooms, and conference rooms. The first one to finish would help whoever had the most left to clean. Randy was usually done first, and Doris always needed the help.

Late Friday evening, I caught movement through the long, thin window of the office door. It wasn't unusual to hear the elevator stop on the second floor and for someone to walk through the hall since I left trash bags outside the door that Randy would take down with him. Naturally, I assumed it was him.

A shadowy figure blocked the light from the hall, then ducked down. The door shook as something violently hit it over and over. I ran over to see what was happening, but the figure was gone and the door wouldn't open. I could hear the elevator doors open again and the elevator descend.

I banged on the door and shouted for Randy or Doris. Nobody came. I tried my cellphone, but there was no reception. Upstairs, I could hear Randy singing out of tune as he went about his duties. He always listened to music on his phone when he cleaned. His headphones and the distance between us silenced my cries for help. And Doris? She was deaf in one ear and wore a cheap hearing aid in the other. She couldn't hear me from five feet away.

I walked to the nearest cubicle, intending to use one of the phones to call for help, but just as my hand touched the receiver, the power and phone lines cut out. The office was dimly lit by the orange glow from the streetlights outside, giving me just enough light to see the silhouettes of the cubicles

This is not good, I told myself. My breathing grew heavy and unsteady.

I felt my way to the door and tried to open it again, smashing my whole body against it when it wouldn't give. I shouted for Randy and Doris again and listened for any sign of movement in the emergency stairwell, but there was only silence.

Suddenly, I became aware of a presence in the office with me. It was heavy and cold, and I could feel it inch closer to me with every passing second. I turned around and noticed the glow from the streetlights was gone. The office was completely black.

I backed up towards the door, intent on holding on to the handle for dear life. I hoped that if I could just hold on to that handle, if I could stay in this realm of existence, nothing could get me. But it vanished as I reached for it. The handle, the door, the wall - they didn't exist. Even the floor beneath my feet disappeared into a pitch-black void over which I dangled.

In the distance I could see a spot appear. In the blackness it was a blinding light that cast no beam. It swayed as it slowly came closer. I knew what it was. I knew what it had in store for me. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I don't even think I opened my mouth. I was paralyzed. The spot's movement was fluid and snakelike. Although it had no visible body, I could imagine a long, black form behind it, slithering gracefully across the void.

As it approached, its hauntingly familiar details became clearer. The spot was a face, oval and completely white with soft, doll-like features. Its small, button nose and pouty lips were eclipsed by two gaping holes for eyes and appeared to be carved from stone. It got closer to me and examined my face. It tilted from side to side, as if trying to remember who I was, and although its expression remained unchanged, the feeling in the void changed from utter emptiness to familiarity.

How long had it been since we'd last met? Seven, eight years? I had done a good job of never being alone in the dark until then. I suppose a visit was long overdue.

The face stopped inspecting mine and pulled back. It stood still for a long time. My mind raced as I awaited its next move. Why aren't you moving? Is this it? Is my punishment finally over?

Then, quick like a viper, it lunged forward. Dozens of previously unseen black hands groped at my body. Wispy fingers, much longer than any human appendages, entangled themselves around my arms and legs. I looked down and saw that they were gone. The void was taking over.

I gasped and struggled for air as more fingers snaked their way up my chest and gripped my neck. They didn't strangle or apply any pressure, but the feeling of them on my skin made it difficult to breathe. They were made up of cold nothingness, like still midnight air in December.

The fingers made their way up to my face and began interlocking around my head, starting from the chin. I gasped harder as they covered my mouth, then my nose, then my brow. Only my eyes remained uncovered. Everything else was gone.

Finally, I was still and unable to breathe. I felt the world around me begin to spin as my brain begged for oxygen. The face drew closer.

Please stop! I shouted in my mind. I've learned my lesson! Just stop!

The face drew closer again until we were nearly touching. My eyes fixed on its hollow pits. The stone skin began to fade away until I was left alone with nothing but the void around me and the hundreds of slithering fingers binding my body. Again, I tried to scream, and nothing would come out. My lungs were empty. The fingers penetrated my open mouth and forced themselves down my windpipe.

I don't know how long I was out. I just remember Doris holding me as I screamed and begged for light. I only calmed down when I saw the glow from the streetlights. Randy picked me up and carried me down the emergency stairs while Doris guided us with her phone's flashlight.

Outside, the air was unseasonably cold. Randy still held me while Doris checked me for any physical damage. They asked me questions. What happened? Did I see who nailed the office door shut? Did someone try to hurt me? I don't remember what I told them. The frigid air made me think of the face and its slithering fingers. Of course, I couldn't tell Randy or Doris about that. They would think I was insane. I declined their offers to take me to the hospital. I said I just wanted to go home. The ever-motherly Doris protested, but I assured her I would be fine once I got some rest.

I sat in my car for a while with the overhead lights turned up on high. The face was gone, at least for now, but I could still feel it. The truth was, I had always felt it, even when it wasn't around.

When I started my car, the headlights illuminated Garry's red and black Challenger, parked at the opposite end of the parking lot. It sat empty. I scanned the outside of the building. At first, I saw nothing, but in the faint glow of the streetlights, I caught movement. A person, tall and slender, trying to keep close to the building's walls. They had a familiar shape, one I saw every day at work.

Garry.

I didn't even have to question if he was behind this. Of course he was. He finally got his way. He finally found something he could exploit.

My biggest fear.