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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Manofmystery202 on 2024-11-02 04:06:56+00:00.


Yesterday I shot my girlfriend’s brother. I know how that sounds, I know people are going to think I’m a murderer. But I’m not, because he never existed. Before you scroll, hear me out. I’ve known my girlfriend Marie since middle school. We’ve been dating since freshman year, and it wasn’t until I was 24 years old that I met her brother Scott. I had been to her house thousands of times. I was there the day her little sister was born. I was there the day her father died, I was there when her mother got remarried. I was there when her stepdad got arrested and we had to bail him out of jail. I’ve been there for every major family event. But not once have I seen him.

But the day he appears on our porch out of the blue begging for someplace to stay I’m supposed to be okay with that. Watch as my girlfriend greets this stranger like she’s known him her entire life. I pressed her on why I’d never met him. She replied our paths just must have never passed. I asked why she’s never mentioned it. She tells me she has plenty of time. I wondered why he wasn’t there for any of those mentioned family events. She insisted he was the best man. I pulled up pictures from the day of her mother’s wedding. He’s not in any of them. I show her this and she says he must have just been unlucky when it came to catching the camera.

I was immediately suspicious of this man. All this time there is no reason our paths should have never crossed. But he knows me, he calls my first name, he knows my dad, he knows where I work, he knows my dog’s name. I ask how he knows these things, he says Marie told me. I ask why we never met he says what do you mean we’ve met plenty of times. 

We sit at the dinner table, and Marie and Scott share stories of their childhood. Some stories I’ve heard before, some stories seem so out of character for my girlfriend. Marie has always been a shy girl and she hates all social events. I was her only friend growing up but all of a sudden I’m hearing of sleepovers with friends I never knew existed. I once tried taking Marie to a party but she began crying the moment we pulled up. But now Scott’s talking about how rambunctious she was constantly partying and getting in trouble with the cops. Bull shit she’s never done anything illegal in her life. She chews me out if I don’t stop at yellow lights. But she sits here and says these stories are true.

I don’t want to argue but it seems impossible she could have done these things. We’ve dated all of high school. How had I never heard this? I begin to think she’s hiding things from me, maybe she isn’t the girl I thought she was. But then he slips up and he tells a story that couldn’t possibly be true. He tells me how she got caught hooking up with her prom date during sophomore year. I snap, it’s impossible, she didn’t go to prom that year. Prom night we sat home and watched scary movies. I say we’d been dating since freshman year. There’s no way. Scott looks annoyed with me. Marie tells me I must be mistaken, we didn’t start dating till senior year.

I leave the room convinced Scott isn’t who he says he is. How do I prove it, an idea comes to me. I went out to the backyard and called Marie’s mother. I ask her about her son, and for a moment she’s confused. It’s not till I say his name she suddenly sparks to life nonstop talking about him and all the great memories she has of him. I don’t care, I ask if she has any photos of him from when he was a child. She says there in her scrapbook. I asked her if she could send me pictures of them. She agrees, and after a few moments, she gets confused. She can’t find the photos, I ask her about Scott’s birthday, she doesn’t know. She’s in shock, rambling, and she hangs up the phone. That night I can’t help but feel like something’s watching me sleep.

Scott has been at our house for a week now. I’ve heard plenty of stories, I’ve caught him a lie a few times. He never eats, at least I never see him do. He never goes to the bathroom, he doesn’t pay attention when we watch TV. That night I caught him staring into our bedroom. His face sticks right past our door frame. I woke Marie to tell her what he was doing. She tells me Scott sleeps and walks. Scott sits at the dinner table, he tells a story of how he broke his arm, it was so bad he had to go to the hospital. A thought crossed my mind and I smiled. 

I leave the room and call a friend who works at the same hospital. “I know you’re not supposed to do this, but I need the medical records for a man named Scott Tillem.” After some harassment, my friend relents. He pulls up his name but tells me there was no one by that name to ever visit that hospital. I have my proof.

I don’t tell Marie, I just say I want to take Scott out fishing. She doesn’t question. She says it will be a good bonding experience for the two of us. That night I caught Scott standing above my bed. I don’t move, I don’t wake Marie, I just sit there and listen. Scott’s frustrated he mumbles to himself. I hear him say “Why can’t I get into your head.” He leaves the room still mumbling.

It’s time to take him fishing, that’s the cover story at least. I make it look as real as possible, I pack lunches, I bring all my fishing supplies, and I tell him the best bait to use. We chat on the ride and he tells me more stories. I don’t listen, I just nod and half-ass reply. I drive us as far out as I can. He doesn’t question it. I ask him one question: what he does do for a living? He says he’s lost his job, that’s why he came to stay with us. I ask what he did before he lost his job, but he can’t answer. All those stories and he couldn’t make up a job.

We arrive at our destination and tuck something into my pocket. It’s cold, and the wind blows but Scott doesn’t wear a jacket. We fish for a couple of hours and grab a sandwich from the cooler for both of us. I offer one to him, he says he isn’t hungry. “Weird you didn’t eat dinner last night you should be hungry by now,”  I tell him he has to eat it. He tells me he just doesn’t eat much. Now’s my time, and I pull the item from my pocket, it’s a .38 revolver. I tell him to take a bite of the food. I point my gun at him but yet he refuses.

“Scott, I know you’re not who you say you are, some of your stories are impossible, there are no photos proving your existence, you don’t have medical records, and your own mother doesn’t even know your birthday. But I’m willing to look past that all. I’m willing to accept your reality, as long as you take a bite of that sandwich, and prove to me that you’re real.”

He smiles and says “No one will ever believe you, I’ve put enough memories in their head to make sure of that.”

I smile back at him and shoot. He falls instantly, whatever monster he was, died just as easily as any human. I didn’t return home last night. If I returned home to Marie without Scott who knows what could’ve happened? I told her we got a little drunk and stayed at a motel. She tells me she hopes we had fun. I don’t know how to return to her now. I don’t know if I can even return home. I’m stuck how do I tell my girlfriend I killed her brother?