Chapter 6
Stricken with nerves, I sit upright, staring into the eyes of my unknown stalker. My tense body feels queasy at the sight of her, and I swallow hard trying to resist the urge to retch. Her statute-like face floods my every thought, and no matter how hard I try, I can only think of her. Those big round eyes, wide and expressionless like before, are so inviting to me I cannot break my gaze. She draws me in and traps me in her presence, of which I’m powerless to escape.
Taking a sharp corner, the bus sways me into the window, knocking me hard enough to break her hold over me, returning some sort of consciousness back to my crippled mind. But this doesn’t break the feeling I get knowing her eyes are still on me, watching my every move through the strands of dark hair draping across her stern face.
Overwhelmed by fever, I rest my head upon the seat in front, burning as lava-like blood runs havoc through my veins, searing me from the inside. One, two, three. I count my breaths, doing all I can to hold back my shattered mind from being pulled away in pieces, and lift my heavy head to make eye contact with other passengers. Their eyes zone in on me, watching my every move, just like she does, and it’s in that moment I know I have to escape this audience, more importantly, I have to escape her.
In a spasm, my sweaty palm hits the stop button as I stumble to my feet, and in a blur, I somehow make it to the front of the bus, passing the many hushed whispers of the other passengers. Moving in motion with the bus as the driver speeds down the road, I focus on the outside world, only for the rattling of my vision, which could be compared to the shaky footage of a home movie, to churn my stomach. Finally, we come to a sudden stop, made clear when the shrieking brakes tear through my head, throwing me into the ticket machine. Murmuring to himself, the less than impressed driver opens the doors, letting a rush of fresh cool air in, pushing away the stagnant warmth aura that surrounds my body.
Unsure of the direction in which I am going, I continue to walk onward as the movement seems to dull my pain slightly. A welcomed gust of wind then follows as the bus speeds by, and even though it’s accompanied by exhaust fumes, I relish in the cooling air, if only for a brief moment.
Houses line both sides of the residential road I’ve taken, each one being similar to the last, with only the slightest of differences depending on the owner that reside within. Focusing on each one, I decide to work out what kind of person lives behind the door, distracting my mind further.
Pink door, pink window frames, pink curtains and a pink car sat on the drive – Barbie Wannabe.
A well-kept garden with hundreds of gnomes swamping the lawn, with barely any green showing through and a bird bath centred within the mess – Hoarder.
Children’s toys spread across the garden, bikes resting up against the wall and a relatively new soft top sports car sat on the drive – Dad having a midlife crisis.
If I could, I would’ve laughed to myself, but it’s a sound I don’t think I can muster, so I continue on moving from one house to the next.
The road ends, and with it I feel the pain begin to ease, which in turn takes away some of the fogginess from my mind, allowing me to take note of where I am long enough to figure out the best route home. I have a vague idea, probably no more than a twenty-minute walk, that’s if I’m correct in thinking I’m just outside the town centre. Struck by images of a chaotic crowd, my heart instantly begins to race, hurrying my pace. Will I ever be able to face that place again?
I’m sure dreams aren’t meant to affect people in their waking lives, a luxury normal people must have. How great it must be without fear of an evil version of one’s self, and never having to deal with such impossible thoughts. As a child, bedtime was an impending horror for me. I’d watch the clock tick ever closer to lights out. That’s when I’d be pulled into the world that wasn’t real, the world no one else ever got to see; alone and afraid.
Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps echoing behind me through the quiet street. Matching my pace, but with a bigger stride as the unknown walker seem to be gaining. Feeling uneasy by the presence of other, I pick up the speed and debate with myself whether I should look behind or choose a different road and see if they follow. I pick the latter, turning into the next road that branches off; it’s smaller than the previous one, a street wide enough for only one lane of traffic and no parking. But still, the footsteps follow, much louder than before as the gap between us closes.
Having no choice, I struggle a turn to face the pursuer. My stomach is hit first, twisting into knots before my eyes have a chance to fall upon her. The dark haired girl has followed me, casually walking closely behind, and completely unfazed that I’ve caught her. “Do not fear me,” she declares in a light airy voice. “I know what you’re going through, that you feel this connection between us. Please, let me explain what is happening to you.”
I wish I could say I didn’t fear her, that I waited and heard her out, but at the sound of her voice, I was off, powering down the road as she follows behind me. “Please Mitchell Harper,” she calls out as I put some distance between us. “There is no time, you have to trust me.”
Her words echo those spoken by TJ, only he forewarned me to trust no one and to think for myself. So I continue on, pushing every thought of her away as I drag my heavy feet along the pavement. Chancing another look, my head spins round to find her gracefully running in an attempt to catch up, almost as if she’s gliding.
Turning another corner, I take the brief moment out of sight to regain my breath and slow my pace, unable to keep it up under the heat my body is already pumping out. Knowing I won’t have a second wind, I stop in the middle of the pavement, exhausted, and await her presence. Only she doesn’t come. Minutes pass and still nothing. Had I imaged it all again? Is this girl even real? Stunned, I find myself searching the long stretch of road we’d once both travelled, purely so I can tell myself I’m not going crazy, but it’s empty. Who is she?
It not long before my house comes into view, which I’m grateful for as the sky has opened up to a full downpour, drenching me head to toe. Hurling myself against the front door, I dislodge the collected water from a ledge above onto myself, at least a good bucket full, as I fumble through my bag to find my key. But to my surprise the door is already open, meaning someone else must be home.
Leaving a trail of water in my wake, I shake my body like a dog, freeing myself of any excess water, and put my hat and coat on the radiator to dry. Cheeks flushed and with hair sticking to my face, I pass the reflection of a drowned rat and begin laughing to myself. If only I wasn’t crazy, I’d have been able to stay on the bus, avoiding this typical English weather.
Change of clothes and with semi-dry hair, I return to the kitchen to make something to eat. This is the first time in a while I’ve actually felt hungry, and I welcome the idea of food. Hearing a loud crash before I have a chance to reach into the cupboard, one strong enough to send vibrations through the ceiling, I run to the base of the stairs. “Matthew!?” I call out.
But there’s no answer.
I try again. “Matthew is that you!?”
Suddenly, a second crash sounds, followed by a loud cry for help, and before my brain can process what’s happening, I’m already racing up the stairs, missing steps in my haste. With his bedroom door slightly ajar, I power towards it and burst through, letting it swing on the hinges as it slams into the wall. To my horror I find Matthew suspended in mid-air, his arms pulled back and spine arched, exposing his chest to the ceiling.
“Matthew!” I cry.
But he’s unresponsive.