Last night was a trip; he’s never had a hangover this bad. There are gaps, blank spaces from the night past of which memories refuse to form. There are bits and pieces, but that’s all. The phone rings. And rings. And rings. He wants to ignore it. Call back later, he tries to will his tormentor.
It doesn’t work.
He lifts it, and there’s no name. No caller ID. It says unknown. He figures he shouldn’t. He knows he ought not to. Mama said don’t talk to strangers. Maybe the caller can fill in the blanks. Shed some light on his nocturnal activities.
He answers.

“Quite the party animal, eh Michael.”
He doesn’t recognize the voice. And why is he calling him Michael?”You don’t have to say a word. I know what it’s like. You may want to cut down some; drive slow”
The caller goes on, punctuating the last remark with a laugh.
He wants to say something, and ask a few questions, but he worries that if he opens his mouth, he may hurl. He keeps it shut. Waiting.
“Pretty insane the way you two were all over each other. Like some starved animals. Were you starved Michael. Of course, you were. I’ve been starved too. . . Famished.”
The voice starts to register. Slowly.
“So where did you end up? Bet you went to her place. You tend to lose the keys to your apartment when you get that way.”
It couldn’t be. It had been a while. They said he had gone away.
“You still careless, huh? Still messy?”
That he wouldn’t come back.
“Quite the sloth, eh?”
He sees the clothes strewn on the floor. His….and then another set.
The voice on the phone is a distant murmur as he realizes he is not in bed by himself.
He turns his head. It hurts. Then he sees a flash of skin.
“Did you at least consider your safety, you arse! Or was the hunger so strong?”
He looks at the cabinet next to the bed. There’s a pack of condoms. Sealed.
“I didn’t think you would, so I slipped you some protection. You were too far gone to offer me so much as a thank you.”
He feels beads of sweat form. One leaves the group and glides, a solitary glide, down the side of his face.
“You ungrateful bastard. Some form of acknowledgment would have sufficed.”
It can’t be. They said he was cured.
The body next to his stirs. She strokes him.
Who is she?
“I gotta compliment you on our taste, though. They don’t come finer than that, do they?”
He notices a used condom on the floor. Prays it was his.
“Hey Michael, are you still there? I bet you are, you’re not going anywhere.”
Michael? That name! Only one person called him that, but the people in white coats said he’d gone away. That he was free.
He shuts his eyes. Willing the call to end. The voice to go away.
“I wouldn’t expect you to believe everything you hear. You know better. I never really left.”
They lied.
“I’ve been waiting.”
He was there the whole damn time.

Biding his time.

Scheming.

“She looks pretty, doesn’t she? Jus’ like old times again, eh? I tag ’em, you shag em.”

His mind was no longer his. It was like old times. No free will.

“Now get up. We have work to do. . .”

Click*

He opens his eyes. He sees the phone on the floor. It was a dream.
He feels a wave of relief.

Then he sees them—the clothes on the floor.

Fear comes rushing back. It engulfs him.

Surely it was all a dream. It wasn’t real.

There’s a stir beside him. He sees a flash of skin from the corner of his eye.

Then the phone rings. No Caller ID.