The Skin Suit

The first strip arrived on a Tuesday.

Lila didn’t notice it at first. She stepped over the thin, folded package on her doorstep, keys already in hand, mind still halfway inside the long, draining shift she’d just left behind.

It wasn’t until she heard the soft stick under her shoe that she looked down.

The package wasn’t wrapped.

Just folded.

Carefully.

Like something meant to be preserved.

Her stomach tightened.

For a moment, she thought it was leather.

Then she saw the ink.

A thin black line, curved and delicate, just visible along the edge.

Her breath caught.

“No.”

She crouched slowly, hands trembling as she peeled the fold open.

It wasn’t leather.

It was skin.

Pale. Slightly gray at the edges. Too real.

And tattooed across it—

A crescent moon.

Exactly like the one on her left wrist.

Lila screamed.

The police came.

They always came.

Flashing lights. Rubber gloves. Calm voices trying to wrap something unexplainable in procedure.

“Are you sure this matches your tattoo?” the officer asked.

Lila held up her wrist with shaking hands.

The crescent moon stared back at them.

Perfect.

Identical.

“Could be a copy,” another officer said. “People replicate designs all the time.”

“On skin?” she snapped.

No one answered that.

They took the piece away in an evidence bag.

Asked questions.

Took photos.

Checked her locks.

And left.

“Call us if anything else happens,” they said.

Lila nodded.

Like she hadn’t already done that before.

It started six months earlier.

The messages.

At first, they were harmless.

You looked beautiful today.

I like the way you tie your hair when you’re tired.

That dress is my favorite.

She blocked the number.

Another replaced it.

Then another.

They knew things they shouldn’t.

What time she got home.

Which café she stopped at.

The exact tattoo on her wrist.

“You should tell someone,” her friend Dani had said.

“I did,” Lila replied. “They said there’s nothing to act on.”

“No threats?”

“No.”

“Then it’s just creepy.”

Just creepy.

Lila stopped sleeping with the lights off after that.

The second piece arrived two days later.

This time, she saw it immediately.

Placed neatly at the center of her doorstep.

Waiting.

She didn’t touch it.

Didn’t even get close.

She called the police before stepping outside.

They came slower this time.

Less urgency.

Less disbelief.

More questions about her personal life.

“Anyone you know who might do this?” the officer asked.

“No.”

“Ex-boyfriend? Dispute?”

“No.”

“Anyone you’ve rejected?”

Lila’s jaw tightened.

“Is that what you think this is?”

“We’re just trying to understand the situation.”

The piece was larger.

A strip from what looked like a forearm.

And inked across it—

A cluster of small stars.

Exactly like the ones along Lila’s collarbone.

The officer didn’t comment on that part this time.

Just bagged it.

Left.

Lila started checking her body every morning.

Every inch.

Every tattoo.

Counting.

Verifying.

Still there.

Still hers.

But something felt wrong.

Not missing.

Not changed.

Just—

Off.

Like looking at a reflection that blinked a second too late.

The third piece came with a note.

Folded beneath it.

Lila stared at it from the doorway for a long time before picking it up.

Her fingers shook as she unfolded the paper.

I’m getting closer.

Her stomach dropped.

Closer to what?

Closer to her?

Or—

Closer to finishing something?

She stopped going to work.

Stopped answering calls.

Dani showed up one night, pounding on the door until Lila let her in.

“This isn’t normal,” Dani said, pacing the living room. “You can’t stay here.”

“I don’t have anywhere else.”

“You have me.”

“He knows where I go,” Lila whispered. “He knows everything.”

Dani stopped.

“What do you mean everything?”

Lila hesitated.

Then pulled her sleeve back.

The crescent moon stared up at them.

“I didn’t always have this.”

Dani frowned.

“What?”

“I got it last year. After…” She swallowed. “After I started noticing him.”

“Noticing who?”

“I don’t know,” Lila snapped. “That’s the problem.”

Dani stared at her.

“You think he’s been—what—copying you?”

“I think…” Lila’s voice faltered. “I think he’s not copying.”

The words hung there.

Unfinished.

Unacceptable.

The fourth piece arrived at night.

Not on the doorstep.

Inside.

Lila woke to the smell first.

Metallic.

Rotting.

Thick in the air.

Her heart pounded as she sat up, scanning the dark room.

The front door was closed.

Locked.

But something felt—

Occupied.

She slid out of bed, moving slowly toward the hallway.

“Hello?”

No answer.

The kitchen light flicked on with a soft click.

And there—

On the table—

Another piece.

Larger.

Fresh.

Laid out like an offering.

And tattooed across it—

A line of script.

Lila’s breath caught.

She knew that one.

Without looking.

Because she could feel it.

Across her ribs.

The words she’d gotten inked during a time she barely remembered—

This body is mine.

Her hands shook as she lifted her shirt.

The tattoo was still there.

But faint.

Fading.

As if the ink itself was being drained from her skin.

“No…”

A sound came from behind her.

Soft.

Wet.

Lila turned.

The hallway stood empty.

But the air—

The air felt closer.

Thicker.

Breathing.

She didn’t call the police this time.

Didn’t call Dani.

She locked herself in the bathroom and stared at her reflection.

At the tattoos.

At the skin that suddenly didn’t feel like it belonged to her anymore.

“How are you doing this?” she whispered.

The mirror didn’t answer.

But something else did.

“You’re giving it to me.”

The voice came from behind her.

Inside the room.

Inside her.

Lila spun around.

The bathroom was empty.

“No,” she said, backing into the sink. “No, no—”

“You chose it.”

Her reflection moved.

A second too late.

Her breath hitched.

“What?”

“You marked yourself.”

The reflection smiled.

Lila didn’t.

“You told the world what belonged to you.”

The smile widened.

“So I’m taking it.”

The bathroom door creaked open behind her.

Lila didn’t turn.

Couldn’t.

Because her reflection wasn’t alone anymore.

Something stood behind her.

Not fully visible.

Just—

Pieces.

A shoulder.

A hand.

A patch of skin stitched unevenly together.

Covered in tattoos.

Her tattoos.

“I’m almost done,” it whispered.

Lila’s body went cold.

“Done with what?”

The thing leaned closer in the mirror.

Its face didn’t match.

Didn’t belong.

But the skin—

The skin did.

“With you.”

Lila’s breath broke.

Because suddenly, horribly—

She understood.

The pieces weren’t being left.

They were being removed.

Copied.

Rebuilt.

And whatever was standing behind her—

Wasn’t stalking her.

It was replacing her.

One piece at a time.

The reflection blinked.

Late again.

And when Lila finally forced herself to turn—

There was nothing there.

Only the open door.

The empty hallway.

And the faint sound of something dragging itself just out of sight.

Still collecting.

Still building.

Still wearing her—before she even disappeared.