Jeremy could still remember his screams.
He had to have waited a half hour in that gym, sitting at the table waiting for his girlfriend to return. He started getting worried at the fifteen minute mark, and by thirty he couldn't stand it. He stalked off in the direction Tesla had, clutching her phone in her hand. With how long a phone rings, there was only one logical escape from this noise in that time frame.
That's where he found her. Leaning against the wall, face white in death, eyes still open. She looked glamorously gone.
Oh, how he screamed. He screamed, cried, clutched the soulless body of his girlfriend as more people came to investigate. He heard their gasps, their screams to call 911 and yet he stayed.
It's the day after, and it won't leave the back of his eyes. He stays away from shadows and corners, instead choosing to sit in the dead center of his cell. Detained for investigation, they said.
All of the police and visitors think he's gone mad. They question whether, in his insane state, he was capable of murder. No, they're all wrong, his actions are logical and of a sane man's mind.
He's afraid of the dark in which she died. Afraid of deteriorating as she did. He's afraid of the unknown and that alone.
How did she die, you find yourself asking. I find myself asking that too, at times. But then again, it's not good to question my nature.
Oh, I'm sorry, are you lost? Have you been mistaken this entire time as well? This story is not that of fairy tales, nor has it been told in third person omniscient. It has always been in first person, of my encounters of the great Tesla Coast.
The little thing just wasn't strong enough to evade me, and few ever are.
I am Nalusa Falaya. I am the Great Black Being. I am the soul-eater, and you should certainly be afraid of the dark.