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I was fourteen when I first saw Peter.

I was at a friend’s party at the time, and aside from strobe lights, it was almost pitch black inside. As it was dark when I first saw him, I thought nothing was wrong. Gradually though, I sensed something was… off. The boy (I estimated that he was around eighteen at the time) was just standing still, staring at me. Shadows seemed to gather around his eyes, and I quickly looked away. The sight of that shadowy boy, who I would later know as Peter, freaked me out; the way he stood still in the middle of the moving mass of people, his black eyes staring straight at me. Worse, none of the other teenagers in the crowd seemed to notice him. I left shortly after.

For about a month after the party, things were pretty normal. I played video games and went to the Mall of America, all the things normal Minnesotan teens do. Then one day, while at the park, I saw him again. I thought he must have lived around that area. He was staring at me again. I stared back, fascinated by his appearance. He was fairly normal looking: tall, slightly skinny but with obvious muscle, shaggy golden brown hair, and a light smattering of freckles. That wasn’t what I was enamored with, however. Behind his lips, firmly in a grinning smile, were his teeth. They were short and pointy, colored a normal, yellowish-white. And then his eyes… they were a deep black, and the tiny veins were flooded with black as well. His pupils and irises were pure white. I sneezed then, and somehow in that short amount of time, he vanished. I got up to see where he went, and while I didn’t find him, I found a trace of him. 

A trace in the form of a box. 

I walked over to investigate, against my instincts. It had my name on it. I carefully opened it, and a letter and necklace spilled out onto the bench. By this point, my brain was screaming at me to get the hell out of there, but being the dumb fourteen-year-old I was, I ignored the logical part of myself. I picked up the letter, unfolding it. It read as follows:

Helloooooo Rylie!

I’m Peter!! I want to be your friend! I enclosed a necklace for you, please keep it safe. Don’t go looking for me, I’ll find you!

There was a smiley face scribbled beneath the letters. "Creepy, but harmless," I thought. Maybe he was disabled or something - it would explain his teeth and eyes. I shrugged and figured that the note was harmless. He probably got my name from someone at the party. I stuck the note in my pocket and tugged the necklace on. It was made with a cheap plastic chain from a craft store, one that could be clasped and unclasped. A red, agate-like stone, clumsily wrapped in wire, was strung on the chain. I started back home, the necklace heavy on my neck.

When I got home, he was waiting for me in my room. Obviously, I screamed. But no one reacted or asked if I was okay. Peter was standing there with a grin, like something from a nightmare.

“Wh-what the fuck,” I croaked out.

“Your family can’t see me, only you can,” he replied, his smile growing wider. “They can’t hear you talking to me either.”

I thought I was going insane. It seemed as if Peter knew what I was thinking, as he giggled.

“You’re not going insane, just think of me as your imaginary friend,” he said in response to my unvoiced concern. I tried to climb out of the window, but Peter stopped me with inhuman strength and speed. 

“I just want to be your friend!” he said angrily, tossing me on the bed. As I struggled to sit up, I heard a knock at the door.

"Honey, is it that you?" My mom poked her head around the door. "How was the park?"

"Fine, mom. I'm going to bed now, alright? I'll see you in the morning." As my mom closed the door, I looked around for Peter; but he had disappeared again.

Over the next few weeks, I grew used to Peter’s presence. I even came to enjoy his occasional witty comments. Once I got in trouble when all the jams went missing, and when I asked Peter later, he said he had eaten them. After that, I bought him jam once a month. 

Time passed, and though I grew, Peter stayed the same. I almost forgot that I had ever had a life without him. I did what he told me to, and things worked out fine. For my fifteenth birthday, he gave me a bracelet. When I asked where he got it, he just shrugged. The next day there was a death on the news: a girl my age was found dead, her eyes stabbed out and a smiling face carved into her stomach. I was more respectful towards Peter after that.

After my sixteenth birthday, things started changing. Peter was almost always around, and he got violent if I didn’t do what he wanted. For instance, when I needed to do homework and couldn’t play hide and seek with him, he slammed me against the wall. When I made a noise of pain he let me go, and even helped with the homework, but I never forgot the look on his face. It was pure hatred, with no room for any other emotion. 

I’m eighteen now, and a couple of days ago, he started asking if I’d "be his friend forever." Now, I’m not a very superstitious person, but I’d been getting a very bad feeling about him ever since my fifteenth birthday. I did some research and concluded that he was either a fairy or a demon. Considering that I didn't know what being his friend forever entailed, I told him I wasn’t sure. He threw a lamp at me.

That was five days ago. He asks me the same thing every morning. I’ve been telling him I need more time to think, but I can tell his patience is wearing thin. I wanted to tell my mom about him, but I’m scared she’ll send me to some sort of insane asylum. So I’m writing this on a website for people who get a kick out of scary stories. Maybe one of you can help. Peter will probably come soon - I need to go.