1022: Still-Untitled Month-Long Work of Fiction, Chapter 5

I just stood there, holding her against me for several minutes. The only sound was her sobbing. Her head jerked slightly every time she gasped and sobbed, and I could feel her tears wetting my shirt.

I didn’t know what to do. Was what she had just said to me true? Was I–

No, I thought. That couldn’t possibly be true. Otherwise how could I be here right now?

But then how is she here? She’s supposed to be–

I closed my eyes and suddenly fell forward, landing face-first on her bed. Dust went up my nose, but I didn’t move. I didn’t want to get up and confirm my suspicions about what had just happened. I didn’t want to get up and find her gone again. But I knew that when I eventually did, I would be all alone once again, and that the room would be back as it was before; deserted, dark and dusty.

I groaned wearily to myself and pushed myself up off the bed, my eyes still shut. I took a deep breath and held it, then opened them.

Darkness. An empty room, long-abandoned. Just as I thought. She was gone again.

Or was it me who was gone? Her words had cut deep into my soul and filled me with doubt, even though I knew how insane and ridiculous it was to wonder whether or not I was actually alive. I pinched myself and it hurt. I certainly felt like I was alive, and Laura certainly hadn’t made any weird comments apart from fussing over me as usual.

I lay down on Alice’s now-empty bed and closed my eyes. I was too mentally exhausted to make it back to my room. The world faded out, and I was asleep in minutes.

*

I wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke up, but the sun was up; the light was just peeping through the gap in the curtains. I roused myself slowly and groggily — I didn’t feel like I’d slept particularly well, but I obviously had, as there was a big gap in my memory after I lay down on the bed.

I stood up and wandered down the hallway to my room. The clock radio indicated that I had about ten minutes before Laura was due to arrive. I considered just lying down and trying to sleep again, but I knew it was futile at this stage. I was up and about, and there was no way my brain was going to calm down enough to let me sleep now. Last night I had passed out from sheer mental and emotional exhaustion; this morning I just felt like a husk. I didn’t know what to feel, what was real or what was my addled brain playing tricks on me. It still didn’t make any sense.

I walked to the bathroom, turned on the cold tap and splashed some water on my face. It didn’t do much to help the way I looked, but it at least made me feel a little more alert. I splashed it again and kept my head in the sink for a moment; temporarily mesmerised by the droplets falling from my cheeks into the bowl. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, turned the tap off and looked up.

I felt a sudden sharp, stabbing sensation of absolute terror. When I looked in the mirror above the sink, there was a figure standing behind me; it was dressed in black, its face, as pale as snow, contrasting sharply with its dark clothes. Its piercing, oddly beautiful eyes were looking straight at me.

I looked away immediately. My heart was suddenly racing, and my stomach felt like it was full of angry bees. I didn’t want to look in that mirror again. I couldn’t. But I had to know. I had to know if I had just imagined that, or–

Deliberately banishing such thoughts from my mind, I tentatively glanced back into the mirror… and all was normal. There was no sign of the shadowy, pale-faced figure whose eyes had felt like they were burrowing into my soul. It was just me. Now I was the one with the pale face. I looked positively green, in fact.

Suddenly, uncontrollably, I felt the urge to vomit. I doubled over and threw up into the sink. I’d eaten so little that it was mostly just acrid, bitter liquid, and it burned as it came up. The suddenness of the attack left me breathless, panting into the sink. I rested my head on the edge and supported myself with my arm, trying desperately to compose myself.

“You’re a fucking state,” I whispered to myself. I knew talking to myself was one of probably many signs that I was losing my grip on reality, but right now I didn’t care. “Come on. Pull yourself together.”

I heard Laura banging on the door downstairs. Should I go–

Yes, I thought, interrupting myself. I should go. Otherwise she’ll only worry and fuss. She doesn’t need to know about this. I’ll just clean myself up and go.

I rinsed out my mouth with water, then mouthwash, and washed my face with cold water once again. It didn’t help my pale appearance, but it was better than having flecks of vomit dripping from the corner of my mouth. I sighed as I looked at my reflection, my heart still beating quickly from the fright it had had before, but gradually subsiding as the rational part of my brain kept repeating that it couldn’t be real, couldn’t be real, couldn’t be real…

Laura banged on the door again.

“Coming!” I shouted in a cracked voice, even though I knew she couldn’t hear. I picked up my bag from where Laura had left it in my room yesterday and headed downstairs. By the time I opened the door, Laura was already turning to leave.

“Sorry,” I said. “Overslept.”

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling at me. “I guess you needed the sleep. You sure you’re all right to come today?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I feel like I need to get out for a bit.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “All right. But don’t overdo it. Let me know if you feel like crap and we’ll… I don’t know. We’ll sort something out. If you’re sure, let’s get moving, otherwise we’ll be late.”

I tried to display a convincing smile, then gave up, turned around and locked the door behind me. Another day was beginning, and I inwardly hoped that it would be calmer than the previous — although going by what had already happened before I’d even left the house, I wasn’t feeling too confident.

We said nothing during the ride to school and walked to our respective classrooms for the first sessions of the day in silence. It wasn’t a tense silence — Laura had learned long ago that there were times when it was okay to push me and times when it wasn’t, and today was one of the latter times. Instead we sat in a comfortable, familiar silence, not needing to make a sound or fill the space with inane conversation. We sometimes joked that we were like an old married couple whose need to communicate constantly had long since faded away; one of those couples who were happy to just sit there in peace and quiet.

The conversations usually got a little awkward and embarrassed around that point, so one or both of us usually changed the subject.

I’d never quite sorted out my feelings towards Laura. We had been together for a very long time — I couldn’t even remember quite how we had first met — but things had never progressed beyond the close friendship we had. I wasn’t sure if I wanted them to, and had even less idea if she did. She was a pretty girl, sure — and she’d only improved as she’d gotten older — but I honestly felt a little strange about thinking about her in “that way.” She was kind of like–

I dropped my pen and it clattered onto the desk. I tutted to myself.

Yes. She was kind of like my sister. Except not. In many ways she was the opposite of Alice. Alice was always louder, more confident, almost brash at times. She always said what she was thinking — I winced at the memory of her using the “d” word so unashamedly — while Laura was quiet, calm and respectful of my feelings most of the time. The most upset I’d ever seen her was yesterday when I woke up in the nurse’s office. I felt bad about getting her into that state, because she was normally so composed, so calm, so cool about everything. I didn’t want to make her worry any more, but I was starting to grow afraid that whatever was happening to me was going to affect her too.

I had to solve this problem — whatever it was — by myself, the same as always. I couldn’t rely on others. I could be strong — I’d survived this long, after all — so all I had to do was endure it until it passed. Until it passed.

If it passed.

The thought occurred to me that I had no idea what was causing the strange incidents, and thus there was no guarantee that they would ever go away. Rationally, I figured that they were symptoms of the combination of grief, depression, anxiety and exhaustion that I was suffering — there was no other reasonable, practical explanation, after all — but irrationally, I wondered if there was really something strange happening, as impossible as it seemed. Could my sister — could Alice — really be out there somewhere, occasionally visible to me? And if so, what was causing it?

A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the shadowy figure in the mirror this morning. There really was no explanation for that. Unless, of course, it was just another hallucination. It disappeared after the first time I saw it, after all, though that didn’t stop it having a profound physical effect on me.

I’d tuned out completely and had no idea what the teacher was saying any more. I picked up my pen from the desk and started twiddling it absent-mindedly. I became engrossed in the strange optical illusion of the pen appearing to “bend” as I moved it rapidly. I don’t know how long I just watched it, but before I knew it everyone around me was getting up and leaving for lunch.

I stood up and followed the other students out of the room. I wanted to get out of there quickly in case the teacher had noticed that I had been spacing out and hadn’t written a single thing in my notebook. Fortunately, he said nothing, and I was out into the freedom of the corridors before long. I had automatically set my course for Mr Gladwell’s room to meet up with Laura, but she caught up with me before I got there.

“You all right?” she said, linking arms with me. “You look a bit better than you did this morning.”

“Yeah,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how much I meant it. Too many things were still racing around my mind.

We walked together, our arms linked. It was an oddly comforting feeling to be in such close physical contact with Laura. I felt safe, for once; simply touching her made me feel… less alone. I didn’t want to let go. But I knew that eventually I’d have to. I had to solve my problems by myself.

For now, though, I decided to enjoy the short-lived feeling while it lasted.