The noise came first.
A dull, repetitive sound, like metal biting into soil. Slow. Methodical.
Vanessa stirred in her sleep, her body heavy, mind fogged. The sound crept closer, louder now, insistent enough to pull her awake. She swung her legs out of bed, the cool hardwood floor a stark contrast to the warmth of her sheets. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness The sound came again.
From the backyard.
She stood up and moved toward the back door, each step cautious, her pulse ticking in her ears.
The moment she opened the door, the night air rushed in, sharp and damp. The backyard was dimly lit by a single flickering bulb near the fence. And there—by the far end of the yard—someone was digging.
The figure's back was to her, shoulders rising and falling with each movement. Dirt piled beside the hole at his feet.
It was Mark. He was on the same Dracula cloak he wore with her to the Halloween fare, spreading around him like wings.
"Mark?" she called, unsure of what he was digging all alone, in her backyard at this ungodly hour. Her voice sounded small in the open air.
No response.
He kept digging.
"Mark!" she called again, louder now. "I've been calling you."
Still nothing.
As she stepped closer, her breath caught.
Her chest tightened.
"Mark?" she whispered.
The digging stopped.
Slowly, the figure straightened but did not turn. Vanessa's legs felt heavy as she closed the distance between them, dread creeping up her spine. She reached out, fingers brushing the cape.
"Why aren't you answering me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You saw my message. You always answer me."
She grabbed his arm and pulled.
The face that stared back at her was Mark's, yet not Mark's. His skin was pale, almost grey, and his eyes were glassy, lifeless. His mouth was frozen in a silent scream, revealing teeth that were yellowed and rotting. Vanessa stumbled back, a scream tearing from her throat.
She tried to run, but her feet felt like they were stuck in quicksand. He grabbed her, his hands cold and clammy, and pushed her to the ground he was digging . Dirt slid around her, closing in. She tried to grab the edge, to scream again, but her voice disappeared as the darkness swallowed her whole.
She jerked awake.
her heart pounding in her chest. She looked around her room, the familiar surroundings slowly coming into focus. She was in her bed, the sheets tangled around her legs. It had been a dream. Just a dream.
She reached for her phone on the bedside table, the screen lighting up to reveal the time - 6:47 AM. She sighed, her body still trembling from the remnants of her nightmare. She unlocked her phone, her fingers hovering over Mark's contact information. She wanted to hear his voice, to reassure herself that he was okay. But she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the call button. "But he left without saying a word" Vanessa pressed it instantly, her fingers moving before her mind could catch up. It beeped and requested for her to leave a voice mail.
"Oh God, she cried out softly"
She opened her messages, her heart pounding as she searched for Mark's name.
Nothing.
No missed calls. No texts. No explanation for where he had gone the night before.
She sank back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. The dream clung to her, heavy and unsettling, replaying itself in fragments—the sound of digging, the pale look on his face, the way he pushed her in.
"It was just a dream," she murmured aloud, forcing the words out. "Just a dream."
Her alarm rang, it was 7 o'clock. Reality reclaimed her.
She tossed her phone aside, her mind made up. She wouldn't call him. She wouldn't worry him with her silly dreams. She would just get up, shower, and start the day like any other.
Vanessa rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, letting the routine ground her.
***
The hot water felt good, streaming down her back and relaxing her tense muscles. Vanessa let out a sigh, her eyes closed as she let the water wash away the remnants of her dream. She was just finishing up when she heard a knock at the door.
She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Who could it be at this hour? She turned off the water, grabbing her robe from the hook on the back of the door. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. "Who is it?" she called out, her voice barely audible.
"Vanessa, it's me," came the response, Mark's voice muffled through the door. She let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, her body sagging with relief. She opened the door, her eyes widening as she took in his appearance.
Mark stood in the hallway, his hair rumpled and his eyes tired. He was wearing the same inner shirt and pants we wore inside his Dracula cloak the night before. The shirt wrinkled and the trouser rumpled.
There was no trace of the anger from the night before. No hint of the coldness that had settled between them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke
He looked up at her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, Ness," he said, his voice soft.
Vanessa hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back, his body warm and solid against hers. "I missed you," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.
"I'm sorry," Mark said quietly.
The relief that washed over Vanessa was instant and overwhelming. She hadn't realized how tightly she'd been holding herself together until that single sentence loosened something inside her.
"I shouldn't have yelled," he continued, stepping inside. "I was having a bad moment. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
She nodded quickly, her throat tight. "It's okay."
He looked at her then, really looked, his expression softening. "I love you, Van. I just… I need things to move slower. That's all. I don't want us to rush into things and ruin what we have."
The words settled over her like a balm.
"I understand," she said immediately, too quickly. She always did. "I do."
Mark reached for her, pulling her into his arms. Vanessa let herself melt into him, pressing her face into his chest. She closed her eyes, breathing him in.
Something was off.
The smell reached her slowly—faint but unmistakable. Like sweat that had dried and lingered too long. Mark was always meticulous about his hygiene. Always fresh, always clean.
Her body stiffened for a second.
She almost pulled back. Almost asked where he'd been.
But the memory of his raised voice from the night before flickered through her mind. The sharpness of it. The way it had made her feel small.
She stayed silent.
Mark kissed her, gentle and familiar, and she kissed him back, choosing comfort over questions. She just wanted to be here, in his arms, where everything felt normal again.
After a moment, she smiled up at him. "Why don't you go freshen up?" she said lightly. "You look exhausted."
He chuckled softly. "Yeah. Probably a good idea."
He left his phone on the coach as he headed toward the bathroom.
Vanessa turned away, exhaling slowly, her heart finally beginning to slow.
Then the phone buzzed.
She glanced at it without thinking.
A message lit up the screen.
"I miss you. Hope you're safe."
Her breath caught.
The name at the top of the screen wasn't hers.