I think he only hurt me for a few seconds, but it seemed to go on forever. It was a while after he stopped before I could get any words out.

“Take the pictures! Erase everything. I don’t care. I won’t tell anyone. Just leave me alone — please!”

“Tell me why you photographed him.”

“I didn’t! I was just taking pictures of the bar. I didn’t see him!”

For the first time, an emotion crossed his face: surprise. Then he looked thoughtful.

“You never saw it?”

I shook my head. Big mistake — it hurt.

“Did you see the one in the cemetery?”

“No! There was nothing there.”

He stood up and leaned back against the counter, thinking. I slumped back against the wall and took deep, shuddering breaths.

“Have you ever taken any other pictures that showed weird things?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I only started taking pictures last year. Everything I’ve taken is on that computer.”

“Any back-ups?”

I shook my head.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Why did you start taking pictures?”

My fear started receding a bit. It wasn’t that the situation seemed better. I think it’s just not possible to maintain that level of terror for very long. In its place came exhaustion. I sensed it was almost over, maybe that I was almost over.

I looked up at him, not really focusing.

“Tell me why you started taking pictures.”

“I got the camera.”

His eyes narrowed.

“I mean, I won the camera in a raffle, so I just started using it.” I stumbled, trying to get the words out quickly. “It makes me feel better. Less anxious. I don’t have so many attacks. Panic attacks, I mean.”

He was silent for a while. Then he rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Fuck.” He knelt down and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. For the first time, I really saw his face close up. It was harsh and heavily lined. No, a lot of those were scars, not lines. His eyes looked too dark. He was terrifying.

“Someone’ll come talk to you about this soon. For now, don’t tell anyone I was here. Don’t take any more pictures. Don’t show your pictures to anyone. Don’t talk about them with anyone. Don’t leave town. Don’t attract attention to yourself in any way. If you do any of those things, you’ll die. You understand?”

I couldn’t have spoken for the world. I just jerked my head.

He stared at me for another few seconds, maybe to make sure I really got it. Then he stood up and left.

For a long time, I just sat there on the basement floor, staring at nothing. I had no idea what to do. I felt oddly listless and distant, as though most of me was far away, connected to the rest of me by a thin tether.