Adam is everywhere.

I cannot escape from him. I’m desperate. I’m here, pleading for your help.

Worse of all, Adam is not supposed to be here. He is on a business trip to France. I know this. I waved him goodbye at the airport. I watched his plane take off.

But when I got home, he was there when I opened the door.

“Adam?” I said, surprised.

He said nothing, just smiled that smile that made my heart sing and dance and made me relieved he’s home. Maybe the plane had to make an emergency landing or something. It did make sense, storm clouds were gathering on the horizon and followed me home. When I got out of the cab it was raining cats and dogs.

I was glad anyway, and I slept peacefully that night. When I woke up, he was gone, but when I entered the kitchen, he was there. In the corner, standing as still as a statue, watching me eat. His eyes did not leave my face.

His eyes followed me as I left the house. But when I boarded the cab, he was sitting there. He turned to face me when I sat down, his face splitting in an unholy grin. He was wearing a suit and tie. His face was strangely smooth, like plastic.

Unnerved, I turned away and stared out the window. But he was there at work. Sitting next to me with that big grin on his face. He was there when he got home as I ate dinner.

When I closed my eyes, I saw him in my dreams. No matter where I turned, he would be there.

To be honest, it’s starting to creep me out. I repeatedly tell him to leave me alone, but he would just tilt his head and stare at me like he didn’t understand. I packed up and went to a hotel to stay the night, just to get away from here, but he was standing at the entrance as soon as I opened the door.

One night, I killed him. I was desperate! Went up to him with a knife and stabbed him to death. Then I dragged him to my back garden and buried him there, deep into the ground. But when I went back in, he was there when I opened the door. Despite the fact I *personally* saw his blood spilling out in a crimson fountain, there wasn’t a scratch on him.

As I desperately scratched my head for a solution to get away from Adam, my phone suddenly rang.

It was from my lawyer.

“I have some bad news. Flight AA113…crashed over the Atlantic Ocean. A thunderbolt struck the wing of the plane and it fell into the sea…Everybody on board was killed instantly.”

“I’m sorry.”

The colour drained from my face. As I hung up, a drop of saliva fell on my shoulder.

Adam was crouching on the ceiling. He twisted his face to grin at me.