1027: Chapter 10

I’m not sure when I eventually fell asleep, but I knew without looking at the clock what time it was when I woke up again.

“2:30?” I said to myself as I pulled the covers off my head and emerged into a dark room illuminated only by the digits of the clock radio. “2:30,” I said, confirming my suspicion via a glance at the glowing numbers.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said, climbing out of bed. I’m not sure at what point I had become so complacent about these strange happenings — after all, it was just yesterday that I had been yelling at the mysterious figure about how much I wasn’t ready to deal with whatever its stupid plan was. Perhaps it was just mental exhaustion — not having anything more left to “give” — or perhaps it was a sign that I really was growing accustomed to this strange and unnatural existence.

I walked slowly and carefully down the hallway in the direction of my sister’s room. Without hesitating this time, I grasped the door handle and opened it. I felt the same sense of nervous tension as I always did when doing this, and I knew that she’d be there waiting for me. I didn’t sit down on the bed, and I didn’t reach out to touch her; I just spoke in a soft voice.

“Alice,” I said. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” she said, apparently unsurprised to hear my voice. “Come on in. Not that I think I have a choice in all this, huh?”

“No, I guess not,” I said with a slight chuckle. “But I don’t really have a choice either.”

I sat down on the side of the bed.

“Shut your eyes,” she said.

“What?” I asked, and was promptly answered by Alice flicking the light on, dazzling me. I snapped my eyes shut.

“I warned you,” she said. “Now, is there a reason you keep bothering me in the middle of the night like this?”

I thought about this for a moment.

“Well, if I’m honest, not really,” I said. “But I wanted to see you again, and it helps to have someone else to talk about these weird happenings with.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “After all, whatever it is that’s happening to you happened to me that one time. I managed to come in and see you in your room.”

“Oh, so that was you,” I said.

“Of course it was me, you big lunk,” she said. “You recognised me and everything.”

“Right, right,” I said. “That’s not what I meant, though.”

I took a deep breath and started to recount my strange conversation with the shadowy figure from yesterday — including the part about how we were different “versions” of each other from the ones we knew.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up there,” she said. “So I was right, then. This is some sort of weird parallel universe thing.”

It sounded utterly ridiculous in the blunt manner she said it. But I had to admit that there weren’t many alternative explanations.

“Yes,” I said. “I suppose so. You’re convinced I’m… you know.”

“Dead?” she said, slightly irritably. “Stop pussy-footing around it and just say it. I thought you were dead, yes. And you apparently thought I was dead. And?”

“Well, then,” I said. “That there doesn’t add up. We can’t both be right. Unless we are. The only way in which we could both be right is if one version of each of us is…”

“Dead,” she said, finishing my sentence. I thanked her silently for not making me say it. “Man. My head is spinning. And, I gotta say, if it is the whole ‘parallel universe’ thing going on, I think I’m the one who got the shitty end of the stick here.”

“Why?” I asked, a little more indignantly than I intended. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said. “But you’re dead. And so is everyone else.”

“You mean Mum and Dad?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Along with pretty much everyone I’ve ever known, ever. I’m all alone. And not just all alone in an ‘I’m so depressed so I’m going to lock myself in my room’ sort of way. I mean literally all alone. There is no-one else here at all. They are all dead. They are all gone. I am the only person alive. Are you getting this yet? Are you understanding me?”

My blood ran cold as her increasingly-agitated words reached my ears and my brain decoded their meaning.

“Holy shit,” I said. Then the lights went out, and I was left sitting on the side of her bed back in my own reality.

I couldn’t get back to sleep after that revelation, so I had spent the rest of the night making myself strong cups of coffee and staring at the clock on the oven. As the sun began to rise, I dug around for my phone and sent Laura a message saying that I’d be all right to go to college today. This empty house was starting to feel like a prison — though it couldn’t possibly compare to what Alice must be feeling.

I felt a little guilty about the amount of self-pitying I had done over the course of the last few days. I thought I had it bad, but at least I still had Laura, and at least I was still living in a world that actually had people in it.

I had considered the possibility that Alice might have been playing a cruel prank on me, of course, but I remembered the curiously empty, dark college campus I’d seen. There was certainly no sign of human life there — was that part of the same strange phenomenon that was, for some reason, bringing me together with this… “other Alice”? If so, it would certainly seem to match up with her story.

I had too many questions to be able to draw firm conclusions. I never stayed long enough in what I was coming to think of as “Alice’s world” to be able to tell if she was telling the truth or not. I didn’t even know for sure that the deserted campus and the darkened room in which she was still alive were the same… parallel world, or whatever they were. I got the feeling Alice wanted to say more to me last night, but she didn’t get the chance to. Why was she the only one left alive? How did everyone else die? What was so special about her? And what was so special about me, who was able to… cross over and see her?

I lay my head down on the kitchen table as I grasped my latest cup of coffee — I’d lost count somewhere around the fifth or sixth — and closed my eyes. I groaned to myself. This was not getting any easier to deal with, but somehow my past feelings of fear were starting to seem like a distant memory. I was mentally and physically exhausted, and right now I just wanted to get out of here. The prospect of going to college and immersing myself in some tedious coursework was just what I needed right now — a semblance of normality in a completely chaotic existence.

There was a knock at the door, and I recognised the distinctive pattern as Laura’s. I got up, tossed my now-cold coffee into the sink and went to answer it. Sure enough, there she was on the doorstep, looking as tired as I felt.

“You all right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve just been… worrying, you know.”

“Yeah,” I said. I felt bad. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I don’t think. I don’t know. Hey. You’re probably right. Getting out of here is probably a good idea, but do you think we could talk about this later?”

“Sure,” I said. “But it’s not really making any more sense now than it was before. In fact, it’s probably making less sense.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I just want to… feel like I’m in the loop, you know? I don’t want you to get dragged away by whatever weird shit is going on. I want to help. If I can.”

“I’m not sure you can,” I said. “But thanks. How about you come back here after classes today and we’ll talk about it?”

She smiled at me.

“You’ve changed a little,” she said. “I like it.”

I felt my cheeks flush slightly and got a sudden urge to change the subject.

“Shall we go, then?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said, visibly brighter, though still with massive bags under her eyes.

The passed uneventfully. I was grateful for the lack of weird incidents, and happy for the opportunity to throw myself into the surprisingly tiresome task of writing 1,500 words on the subject of “taboo language”. It turned out that exploring the etymology of the word “fuck” wasn’t nearly as interesting as it sounded.

Laura met up with me outside the front door of the college once the day had come to an end. She looked a little more lively than she had done earlier.

“All right?” she said. “Still okay to come by for a bit?”

“Yeah,” I said. I felt a slight sense of nervousness at the difficult, bizarre conversation I had waiting for me at the end of the drive home, but also grateful for the fact that Laura was willing and able to stick by me through all this. I wasn’t quite sure if I’d be able to handle it all by myself.

I thought to myself, with a not-inconsiderable amount of guilt, that handling it by herself was exactly what Alice was doing right now. Her words — if they turned out to be true, of course, and I didn’t really want to doubt her — meant that she really was all alone, rather than having someone who was apparently willing to stick by me even as I came out with the most outlandish-sounding nonsense about why I was acting so strangely.

“Hey Laura,” I said as I got into her car. “I probably don’t say this enough, but… thanks.”

“What for?” she said, smiling.

“Everything,” I said. “I really appreciate you being there for me. You’re always there for me. You’ve got my back, I know that.”

“It’s fine,” she said, starting the engine. “You know, it’s not entirely selfless on my part, either, as you’ve probably noticed.”

I hadn’t. Should I have?

“Oh?” I said.

“Yeah,” she said, pulling the car out onto the road. “You’re not the only one who feels alone, you know. While I really like spending time with you, I don’t hang around with you so much just because of that. Outside of my parents, I haven’t really got anyone else either.”

“Oh, wow,” I said, quietly. I felt awful. I’d never even thought of that. I’d always just thought of Laura as “my friend” and not even considered the question of who — if anyone — she might be hanging around with when I wasn’t around. So that was why she’d been so upset at the weird happenings the other night. She thought she was losing… her only friend?

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’ve had your own stuff to deal with, so I never brought it up. But… since strange stuff is going on, I’d like you to remember it if you can. I know I got a bit hysterical the other night, but I meant what I said. I don’t want you to go anywhere. I’m not sure what I’d do without you so please… whatever it is you’re involved with, and I’m hoping we’ll have a good talk about this when we get home, please try and stay safe.”

“I will,” I promised. “I will.”

1026: Still-Untitled Month-Long Work of Fiction, Chapter 9

Laura took a while to calm down, but she eventually pulled herself together and decided to go home for a little while after I repeatedly assured her that yes, I would be all right for now. She looked almost as exhausted as I felt, and I really didn’t want to upset her any further. Apparently whatever had actually happened from her perspective last night had been pretty strange. Not that it wasn’t weird from my own perspective, of course, but if what she said was true — if I really had “disappeared” from in front of her… then yes, I could sort of understand her reaction.

I lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling. The silence seemed oddly oppressive, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up and put on something that made noise. I was used to the silence by now. This house was always quiet. Most of the time I didn’t notice it, but for now it seemed particularly noticeable.

I blinked a few times and continued to gaze at the featureless patch of ceiling above my bed. My mind started to wander as I considered everything that had happened so far.

Things were starting to come together in my mind, but they seemed highly improbable, if not impossible. How was this all happening?

I made a mental checklist in my mind.

Okay, I thought. Let’s go through these things one at a time.

The main mystery was how on Earth I was suddenly able to see and speak with my sister. This was something that should be impossible, and yet it wasn’t. She seemed just as bewildered as I did at the concept.

That led on to the second mystery: our apparently different memories of what had happened in the past. My memory clearly believed that she was… gone, along with my parents. That was surely a fact that couldn’t be argued with. The house I was in was so silent right now because they were gone. If they were still here, I’d have been able to hear my parents talking and my sister probably listening to whatever God-awful pop group she’d seen on the television that week. But they weren’t I was here, alone.

And yet she seemed to think that I was the one who was not around any more. Her reaction to me was very similar to my reaction to seeing her again. She seemed to think that my presence was the thing that should be impossible.

That was the part that didn’t really make sense to me. How could we both be right? Because we both clearly believed that we were right.

There was only one real possibility, but I couldn’t even bring myself to think it, it seemed so ludicrous. And yet it continually crept in to the corner of my mind, begging me to consider it further.

“Ah,” came a familiar and unwelcome voice; an oddly-soothing voice. “So you’re starting to get it.”

I sat up suddenly and looked around. I couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. It seemed to fill my mind rather than my ears; to come from all around me, everywhere and nowhere.

“What is this?” I asked in an unsteady voice. “Who are you?”

“Oh, you’ve found your voice at last,” said the voice. It was taking a somewhat patronising tone that I didn’t much care for, but the feeling of fear was overriding annoyance at the moment. “Good. That will make conversing with you much easier.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said, trying to sound assertive but just ending up painfully aware of how much my voice was quavering.

“Calm down,” said the voice. It was as smooth as butter, and I couldn’t help feeling soothed by its tones, even though it also scared me. “My name is not important right now. I mean you no harm, though.”

Somehow I wasn’t entirely convinced, but I said nothing in response to it.

“Doubtless you are trying to make sense of what is, after all, a very strange situation, correct?” it continued. “And doubtless you are rapidly coming to the conclusion that something that appears to be fairly implausible must, in fact, be the explanation, yes?”

“Yes,” I said meekly.

“Tell me what you think is happening,” said the voice bluntly. “And then we’ll go from there.”

I paused. I felt ridiculous even contemplating saying these things out loud. And yet here I was talking to some sort of presence that may or may not be a figment of my own imagination. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought.

“All right,” I said. “Clearly I am… going somewhere sometimes. Otherwise Laura wouldn’t have seen me disappear.”

“Go on,” said the voice, goading me.

“And when I… go somewhere, it’s a place where my sister is.”

“Yes.”

“When I meet my sister, she has no memory of… that night. Instead, she seems to be convinced that I am the one who… passed on.”

“Continue.”

“Therefore, the only possible explanation for all this is that…”

“Yes?”

“Is that…”

“Just say it.”

I swallowed, grit my teeth and remained silent for a moment.

“The only possible explanation,” I said again after a moment, “is that the ‘sister’ I’m seeing is… a different version of her to the one I lost back then.”

“Bravo!” said the voice. I heard what sounded like a slow clap, and a figure that absolutely wasn’t there before was suddenly standing by my bed. It was indeed giving me a slow clap. I instinctively recoiled and pressed myself into the corner of my bed, as far away from the figure as I could possibly get.

I could tell it was the same figure I’d seen in the mirror the other day. I avoided looking at it. It freaked me out then, and it was freaking me out now, not least because it had appeared out of nowhere and was now standing in the middle of my room as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn’t belong here, and I very much wanted it gone, but I had the feeling that wasn’t going to happen until it had finished whatever its business was with me right now.

“Yes, indeed,” it said, turning to face me. “And do stop cowering. I told you I didn’t mean you any harm and I mean it. You’re far too interesting for me to let you get hurt.”

Interesting? Me? I thought it, but didn’t say it.

“Yes, you,” it said, apparently reading my thoughts. This didn’t make me feel any better. “You’re an intriguing one, which is why I’m here now.”

“Are you… the one who is making these strange things happen?” I asked uneasily.

“Heavens, no,” said the figure with a ghastly laugh that chilled me right up my spine. “I don’t have that sort of power. I’m just… keeping an eye on things, shall we say. You see, the things that are happening to you are… a bit of a concern. They’re not supposed to happen, in short. You shouldn’t be able to do the things that you’re doing. But you are.”

“And… what am I doing?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know, but I felt like the figure was expecting that I should ask it.

“Hmm, how to put this in terms you can understand,” said the voice in a condescending tone. “Basically every so often you’re crossing a ‘threshold’ — a boundary between worlds, I guess you’d call it — and that, not to put too fine a point on it, is causing problems.”

“What kind of problems?” I said.

“That’s… not important right now,” said the figure. “For the moment, I’m simply studying what is happening with you and then we’ll work out what the best thing to do is. In the meantime, you get to see your sister again when you thought that became impossible the moment she died. Pretty great, right?”

Something snapped in my mind and the fear was gone, replaced with anger. I looked at the figure for the first time. It was oddly androgynous, dressed all in black. I couldn’t tell from either its figure or voice whether it was male or female. Its skin was pale as snow, and its eyes, which were looking straight at me, were a sparkling ruby red. It was both beautiful and terrifying to look at.

“Pretty great, you say?” I growled. “Pretty great? Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through? How difficult this all is to deal with, how much of a complete and utter headfuck it is to be seeing Alice again?”

“Yes,” said the figure simply and calmly. “I’ve been watching all of this since it started. I’ve tried to appear to you a few times before this but you… well, you showed that you weren’t quite ready to process the information just yet.”

“And you think I am now?” I said, the volume of my voice rising. “You think I’m ‘ready’ for whatever your weird little plan is? Well, I’m not. I’m out. I just want some peace. I want a normal life. I want to be able to grieve properly for the people I have lost and move on. I want to be able to concentrate on my future rather than being constantly reminded of the most painful thing in my past. I just want to live, for fuck’s sake.”

I wasn’t sure, but I thought the figure looked slightly impressed at my outburst.

“Okay, okay,” it said, brushing something off its arm with a dismissive expression. “Perhaps this was a bad idea to come here and talk to you today. You’re still clearly… dealing with a lot of things. I will leave you in peace for now, but like I say, the strange things that have been happening to you are nothing to do with me. Or, rather, I should say, they’re not caused by me. And they are going to keep happening to you until you’re ready to deal with what’s going on. I’ll ask you one last time before I let you go back to staring at the ceiling with that vacant expression on your face: are you ready to deal with this?”

“No!” I yelled. “Please! Leave me alone!”

“That’s all I needed to know,” said the figure. Then it was gone.

I had no idea what had just happened to me. I wasn’t sure if I had actually just experienced that utterly bizarre conversation, and Laura wasn’t here to tell me whether or not anything strange had happened from her perspective.

Suddenly I felt very alone and isolated, and I didn’t know what to do.

I simply climbed under the covers of my bed and hid in the warm darkness. I would be safe here. Nothing could get me here.

It was a childish thought, of course — I used to hide under the covers when I was a kid and afraid of monsters in the dark. But right now, the monsters seemed that little bit too real, and I wasn’t ready to fight them head-on. I didn’t know if I would ever be ready. Perhaps I would get there. That strange figure, whoever it was, seemed to think I would. But right now, all I wanted to do was hide away from everything and never come out.

So I hid.

1025: Still-Untitled Month-Long Work of Fiction, Chapter 8

Laura stayed for the whole day, and we came up with a plan. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but if nothing else it would help both of us to work out what was going on.

We — well, she, mostly — decided that she should stay over and keep an eye on me. If something weird happened, I said I’d tell her, and she’d tell me if she could see anything. If nothing else, it would help to establish if I was really seeing Alice, or if I was just going a bit weird in the head. I didn’t really want to think about what it meant if she didn’t see anything when I did, but at least it would be proof that this was maybe something I couldn’t handle on my own.

But then what if she did see something? What would that mean then?

These questions swam around inside my head as I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. I heard Laura rustling in the sleeping bag on the floor. She said she’d try and stay awake, but she already sounded like she was getting comfortable.

Within a few minutes, her breathing became soft and regular, and it was clear that she was asleep.

I smiled bitterly to myself. Most people my age would probably be thrilled to have a girl in their bedroom. But these were hardly normal circumstances. Laura was here — let’s not be under any illusions about this — to determine whether or not I was going insane.

I scrunched up my eyes tightly and tried to banish the thoughts from my head, but it wasn’t really working. I rolled over onto my front and buried my head in the pillow, but it was hard to breathe. Was I ever going to get to sleep tonight?

What felt like minutes later, I woke up with a start. I could hear Laura’s soft snoring still coming from down on the floor. The room was noticeably darker than it had been when I was trying to get to sleep. I looked at the clock radio; sure enough, as I expected, it was 2:30.

I sat on the edge of my bed and stretched my aching muscles. Then I nudged Laura with my foot. She gave a mumble but didn’t stir.

Possibilities crossed my mind. Should I just not wake her? If she didn’t wake up, I could just say I slept through the night and nothing happened. It’s possible that nothing will happen anyway, but perhaps it would just be easier if she…

“Oh, hey,” she groaned. I heard the sleeping bag rustle as she sat up. “What time is it?”

That answered that.

“2:30,” I said. “I keep waking up at this time for some reason.”

“Is something…” she began, then hesitated. “Have you seen anything?”

“No,” I said. “But the last few times I’ve woken up at this time, I’ve… I’ve seen Alice in her room.”

Laura was silent for a moment. The only sound was her gentle breathing. There was something delicate and feminine about it. I felt a strong and sudden urge to try and keep her safe.

“Do you want to go and look?” she asked eventually.

“Yes,” I said, almost immediately. I felt the same usual sense of unease and fear, but rather than stopping me from acting, now it felt like it was spurring me on into action. I had to see her again. I had to see her. “Yes. Come on.”

“All right,” said Laura. She yawned. “Let’s get this over with.”

She braced herself on the side of my bed and stood up, shaking the sleeping bag off her legs. I couldn’t stop myself from stealing a glance at her in the dull glow of the digits from the clock radio. She was wearing one of my T-shirts to sleep in, and nothing else. My eyes followed the contours of her shapely legs for a moment before I stopped myself. I shouldn’t look at her like that.

“Hey,” she said. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to shake the impure thoughts out of my mind. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

We walked out into the hallway, and I led the way to my sister’s room. I paused in front of the door as usual. I felt Laura place her hand on my shoulder behind me, and I felt somewhat reassured, but still uneasily.

I put my hand on the doorknob and opened it. I stepped over the threshold into the darkness of my sister’s room. I felt Laura’s hand release me as I stepped inside, and I knew she was hanging back to wait for me rather than intruding on this.

I sat down on the side of the bed as I had done before and reached over to try and stir my sister. She was already awake.

“Hello again,” she said. “Is this going to be a habit? It would be nice to get a full night’s sleep one of these days, you know.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m trying to work all this out.”

“I’m just joking,” she said, her voice softening a little. “I want to know what’s going on too. And I know it probably means at least a few nights of interrupted sleep.”

“I’m still sorry,” I said. I felt a wave of emotion rising up inside me. I felt like I wanted to cry, but I held myself back from the brink. “I wish I could have done something. I wish I could have saved you.”

“Whoa, wait, what?” she said. “Save me? From what? I’m here! I’m safe. See? Here.”

I felt her small hand touch me on the cheek. It was freezing cold, but she was definitely there. A tear fell from my eye.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry, I…”

“Yeah, something funny’s definitely going on here,” she said. “It’s like… you’re convinced I’m dead, right?”

“Yeah,” I said in a voice that wasn’t much more than a whisper.

“And… I’m convinced you’re dead,” she continued.

“Yeah,” I repeated.

There was a momentary silence.

“No, I got nothing,” she said. “Well, nothing that makes any sense, anyway.”

“This isn’t exactly a situation that makes sense anyway,” I said to her, wiping my eyes. “So let’s hear your situations that don’t make sense.”

“No, they’re too stupid,” she said. “They couldn’t possibly be happening.”

“Come on,” I said. “You can tell me.”

There was no response.

“Alice?”

I wondered what weird suggestions she had, and my mind started wandering, trying to think of some of my own. All of them just seemed too ridiculous to even consider. But like I said to her, this whole situation didn’t make sense. When you rule out all of the plausible things, what you’re left with, however implausible or impossible-seeming, must be the truth. I’d heard that somewhere.

She wasn’t saying anything.

“Alice?” I called. I reached out to touch her, but found only bedding.

She was gone again. But now there was a different sound coming from outside the room. It sounded like someone crying.

Laura?

I stood up from Alice’s bed and pulled the door open. Laura was kneeling on the floor of the hallway, sobbing.

“Hey, uh, you all right?” I said. Her head snapped up and she gazed at me with wide, tear-filled eyes — eyes that looked afraid.

“How the fuck did you do that?” she whispered in a broken voice.

“Do… what?” I asked.

She stood up and walked slowly towards me until she was so close our bodies were almost touching. Her hands moved to my face, her slender fingers caressing my cheeks, as if she was a blind girl trying to visualise the appearance of someone she would never see with her eyes. She was breathing raggedly through her mouth, and I felt her hot breath against me.

“You’re really here, right?” she said.

“Yes,” I whispered. Her face was very close to me. I didn’t know what was happening. She put her arms around me and pressed herself against me.

“Please,” she said. “Just hold me until morning.”

I woke up as the sun was rising. My bed felt more cramped than normal, and it took my sleepy mind a moment to realise that there was something in my bed with me, another moment to realise that it was a person and yet another to remember that it was Laura.

She was still sound asleep, facing away from me towards the wall.

I had only dim memories of exactly what had happened last night, but as my brain went through its startup sequence I remembered Laura’s words, her request, her plea for me to hold her until morning. I remembered how scared she’d looked. What happened?

She looked peaceful now, at least, so I decided not to wake her. I honoured her request as best I could, though, and hesitantly draped an arm over her sleeping figure.

I closed my eyes and found myself drifting off again.

The next time I awoke, Laura’s face was right in front of me. Her hair was a mess and her eyes looked tired.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m, uh, sorry about last night. Not that I imagine you’re complaining.”

I was suddenly very conscious of the “morning glory” erection I had, and tried discreetly to ensure that I didn’t poke her with it inadvertently.

“It’s, um, all right,” I said. There was an awkward silence that I felt the need to fill as soon as possible. “You seemed pretty upset about something… did you see my sister?”

“No,” she said, the cheeky smile from a moment ago fading instantly. “In fact, I didn’t see anything.”

I felt an unpleasant feeling, like icy-cold fingers crawling up my spine.

“So… I am going mad, then?” I asked.

“No,” she said, her voice becoming a little more agitated. “No, you don’t understand. I didn’t see anything at all. You weren’t there. You just disappeared, right in front of me.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“You went away,” she said again. “You disappeared. I couldn’t see you, couldn’t find you. You were gone. You left me. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t go away.”

She buried her face in my chest, and all I could do was put my arms around her and hold her as she broke down completely. I’d never seen her like this before, and I hated myself for the fact that I was the one who had done it to her.

“Please don’t go away,” she kept saying. “Please don’t leave me.”

1024: Still-Untitled Month-Long Work of Fiction, Chapter 7

I was in a dark room, the only illumination coming from a small candle in the middle of a table in front of me. The rest of the room was filled with the sort of darkness so thick it looked like it would be hard work to walk through; like it would try to suffocate you, smother you.

I walked towards the table — there was nowhere else to go — and stood in the small pool of light around it.

Nothing happened for a moment. I looked around with some curiosity, but for some reason I didn’t feel uneasy or scared. I felt like I should just wait, so I did.

There was no sound. The room, wherever it was, just was. It simply existed. I couldn’t hear any sounds from outside, nor any noise from in here. Even the slightly-flickering candle flame wasn’t making a sound.

Then, suddenly, I heard something. Footsteps? They were slow and tentative, and they sounded like bare feet on a tile floor. I looked down at my own feet, but the light from the candle wasn’t enough to tell what I was actually standing on. I tried to move my feet and make a sound with them, but I found I was rooted to the spot. I couldn’t move.

I still felt curious rather than scared or uneasy. This was happening and there was nothing I could do about it.

The footsteps were coming closer now. They sounded like they were slow; tired.

I knew who they would belong to before the shadowy figure emerged from the impenetrable darkness.

“Alice,” I said quietly, in a calm, emotionless voice. She looked up and continued walking towards me slowly but regularly; not quite stumbling, but looking like she had walked for a long time and just wanted to rest. Her eyes looked at me, but there was no spark behind them, no glimmer of recognition. She looked, to all intents and purposes, like she was–

As she stepped into the visible pool of light around the table, suddenly she vanished, her body seemingly shattering into a pale smoke. I watched it rise into the air and gradually disappear into the darkness–

–and then my eyes flicked open, and I was gazing at the ceiling of my room again. The familiar sounds of the middle of the night — the gurgling of the radiators, the occasional sound of a car driving past in the distance — were back once again.

I rubbed my face and sat up, groaning to myself. I glanced over at the clock. 2:30 again. What was it about this time?

I decided to go downstairs and get myself a glass of water, as my throat felt completely parched. I did so, the cool yet not-that-nice water from the tap washing down smoothly, feeling like it was filling me with life.

The details of the dream were fast fading from my mind, but I knew that Alice was involved in there somehow. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. Perhaps it meant something, or perhaps it was just my unconscious mind struggling to make sense of what was, after all, an inexplicable series of events that had taken place over the last few days.

I began to wonder if Alice would be in her room again tonight. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I saw her, but I felt a powerful urge to check in on her anyway. The prospect of seeing her again still caused my guts to tie themselves in knots and my heart to begin pounding, but tonight felt different somehow — like I was expecting, wanting it to happen. I walked quietly up the stairs and hesitated outside her room just as I had done several times before.

I pushed the door open slowly and it gave its usual little creak. Inside, it was dark; the moon was clouded over again, so there wasn’t much light coming in through the crack in the curtains. I could tell from the strange feeling I was getting that Alice would be in her bed, though.

I sat down on the side of it and reached out to touch her. She groaned a little and rolled over, then I heard her take a sharp breath.

“You’re here again,” she whispered. “Why?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” I said in a low voice.

“I don’t have a clue either,” she said. “It’s weird. It’s like… I don’t know. One minute you’re here, the next you’re not. Or one minute I’m there, or the next I’m not. What’s going on?”

I paused in thought for a moment. Could it be–

“Wait,” I said. “Is something… strange happening to you?”

“Besides my dead brother creeping into my room in the middle of the night?” she hissed sarcastically. “No, things are just peachy.” She paused. “Yes, of course something strange is happening to me, you prick. I was hoping you’d be able to explain why you keep showing up like this.”

“I… was actually hoping the same thing,” I admit. “I don’t understand what’s going on. So far as I’m concerned, you’re…”

“Dead?” she said. Her bluntness stung a little. “No, I’m not dead. Look.”

I couldn’t see what she was doing in the darkness but I heard and felt her moving around in the bed. I figured it might be best that I didn’t see exactly what she was doing.

“Well, I’m… still here, too,” I said. I reached out my hand and touched where I assumed her arm was.

“Ew!” came the response. “Don’t be weird. Also, your hands are cold.”

Evidently that wasn’t her arm.

We both sat in silence for a moment. I cleared my throat a couple of times to let her know I was still there. It seemed that we were being allowed to stay together for a little longer than usual.

“You know,” she said after a while, “I know I give… gave, whatever… you shit all the time, but I am glad to know that you’re sort of alive somewhere.”

It was a clumsy sentiment, but it was a strange situation and there really wasn’t a better way for her to express it.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m glad too. I thought you were gone forever.”

There was no response, and I knew that we’d been torn apart once again.

The next morning, Laura showed up as usual, but when I opened the door she came in.

“You’re taking the day off,” she said. “You need rest. Lots of rest. And I’m going to make sure you get it.”

She said it in a tone that indicated there was to be no arguing with this arrangement. I knew that it was futile to resist.

“Fine,” I said. “But is it okay?”

“I called Gladwell,” she said. She was on good terms with our tutor. “He’d noticed you’d been a bit out of sorts recently, so I arranged it all with him. Don’t worry.”

I instantly found myself wondering exactly what she’d said to him.

“I said don’t worry!” she said, seeing my face. “I didn’t tell him anything specific. Not that I really know anything specific, either. Come on. Talk to me. Please?”

“I’ll try,” I said. “At least come in properly. Take your shoes off.”

She obliged. I closed the front door behind her and I led her into the lounge. I plopped myself down in one of the armchairs and she sprawled on the sofa.

“Make yourself at home,” I said sarcastically. I didn’t mind, really. I spent very little time in this room. There was no real reason to. When I was at home, I spent most of my time in my room, and when I wasn’t here, I was at college. This was what my life, such as it was, had become.

“So,” she said, sitting up and propping herself up on the sofa arm. “Let’s try and have this conversation again. Before you start, I know it’s tough. And I know it hurts. I also know you. I know you’re trying to be strong and carry all this on your own shoulders because you feel that you have to for some weird reason. But I’m telling you that you don’t have to. I’m here. I want to help.”

I sighed. Rationally speaking, I knew she was right; I was being an idiot, and that was probably what was leading to these tricks my brain was playing on me — assuming they were tricks — but it was difficult. I didn’t “do” opening up to people. I didn’t “do” talking. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. Laura had been literally my only friend for a long time now, so I’d had very little practice at expressing myself properly.

It was a strange feeling. Often I could imagine the conversation I’d want to have with her, or at least the way I’d want to start it, but would end up choking on the words. Not literally. Well, not quite. But I would feel my throat tighten and become dry, and the words would be impossible to get out. I’d either end up just staring at a wall or making an excuse, and the things that probably needed to be said were left unsaid. This was starting to develop a strong risk of becoming one of those times.

“Laura, I–” I began, then paused. “Thank you,” I said simply. “You’ve always been there for me, and I don’t deserve it. I treat you like shit, but you’re still around.”

“That’s not true,” she said. “You know me well enough by now, surely. I wouldn’t stick around if I actually thought you were treating me like shit. I’d tell you off first, but yeah. If you kept it up, I’d be off.”

I smiled a little. Her words weren’t overly convincing. I did worry a little about her.

“Really,” she reassured me. “I promise. I would tell you if you were taking the piss.”

“All right,” I said.

I paused and contemplated what I should say next for a moment.

Then I released the safety catch on my mind, and started talking.

I explained about the previous evenings, how I’d been absolutely convinced that I’d seen my sister, alive and well, in her bedroom. I explained about the weird darkness I’d experienced at school. I even told her about the voice I’d heard in the classroom, and the weird figure in the mirror. I just kept going and going and going because I knew that if I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to start again. I had to get this all out of my head. I had to tell someone. I had to release this tension. I had to–

“Holy shit,” she said eventually. “I… I’m not quite sure how to respond to that.”

There was an awkward silence.

“You think I’ve actually gone insane, don’t you?” I said wearily. My tirade had taken all of my mental strength, and now I felt exhausted, despite the fact it was barely an hour since I’d got out of bed.

“Well, no…” said Laura. “I don’t know. No. You’re not insane. If you’d actually gone crazy I doubt you’d be able to talk about this right now. But something’s going on, and — don’t hate me for saying this, I know you don’t like it — you could probably do with some help.”

“You might be right,” I said, closing my eyes and leaning back in the chair. It was a moment before I spoke again. I sat up again and looked at her. “I honestly don’t know what to do. It happened again last night. I saw her, spoke to her, but then we were pulled apart again. And the weird thing is, the same thing seems to be happening to her. She seems to think that I’m the one who’s… you know.”

“That is strange,” said Laura. She swung her legs down off the sofa and stood up. Then she walked over to me, leaned over me and put her arms around me. “We’re going to get through this. You’re going to be fine.”

At that moment, I believed her.

1023: Still-Untitled Month-Long Work of Fiction, Chapter 6

I sat down at the desk, and Laura plopped herself down in a chair across from me.

“Here,” she said, reaching into her bag and handing me a foil-wrapped lump. I tentatively unwrapped it and discovered a sandwich inside. It looked good — turkey and ham, accompanied by some lettuce and cucumber, with a drizzling of mayonnaise over the top. Simple but tasty. I took a bite and it made me all the more painfully aware that I hadn’t eaten properly since yesterday lunchtime.

“This is good,” I mumbled with my mouth full. Laura grimaced. I remembered that people talking with their mouth full bugged her, but it was already too late. She smiled and chuckled.

“I figured you could do with something nice,” she said. “But I can’t afford to buy you lunch every day. So you got this.”

“Thanks,” I said, making sure to swallow first this time. She took out another foil-wrapped package from her bag and unwrapped it to reveal another identical-looking sandwich. She started eating it, and we both sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the simple but comforting food and each other’s company.

“I–” I began, before realising that I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. Unusually for me, I felt like I wanted to actually talk about the things I’d been thinking and feeling, but found myself completely unable to express them. Where to begin? And was it even a good idea to bring it up? It was so much easier to just shoulder it all by myself, but–

“You…?” Laura replied, putting the last of her sandwich in her mouth and looking at me quizzically.

I paused for a moment, then figured I’d test the waters.

“I’ve… I’ve not been doing so great recently,” I said.

“I know,” said Laura gently. “It’s okay.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m not sure it is. I’m kind of worried.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. Is this anything to do with you working yourself to the point of exhaustion and scaring the crap out of me?”

“Partly,” I said. I hesitated. Where to go from here? “I’ve… Well, my mind has been going back to that time, you know?”

“Mm,” she said, leaning in a little closer. “Yeah. I’m not surprised. I can’t even begin to imagine how much it must hurt.”

This was probably the first time we’d actually had a serious conversation about all this. Laura knew how much I hurt, of course, because she’d borne the brunt of my irrational lashing out when I was at my worst. But we’d never really talked about it. It was always just implicit understandings and mutual avoidance of difficult topics. Today felt different, though. I felt like I’d opened the floodgates a little, and just behind them was a torrent of… what? Feelings? Emotions? Memories? Something was waiting to burst out, and I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for it.

“It does,” I said. “It does hurt. And I thought I was dealing well with it, but now I’m not so sure.”

She nodded and waited for me to continue.

“I’ve… I’ve been…” I faltered. I wanted to say that I’d been seeing things, that I’d been seeing my sister, but I just couldn’t. It just sounded too insane. I still didn’t know how she’d react, and I wasn’t quite ready to find out.

“You’ve been what?” she asked. She reached out her hand and took mine. “It’s all right.”

“I’ve just been… thinking about her a lot,” I said eventually. “My sister. Alice. I miss her.”

It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a lie. But there was enough padding between it and the actual truth to protect me from coming across as a complete madman. My eyes were stinging a little. I really didn’t want to start crying.

“I know you do,” she said softly. “And it’s okay. It’s okay to miss her.”

She stood up, walked around the desk and put her arms around my neck and shoulders from behind. I could feel the warmth of her body pressing against mine. It was comforting.

Something burst inside my head and I started to cry; big, gulping, undignified sobs. The emotions I’d been bottling up and keeping to myself were breaking through and crashing through the barriers I’d built up. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t tell Laura why I was putting on such an undignified display in front of her, but she didn’t seem to mind. She simply held me more tightly, but that just made me want to cry more.

After several minutes, the outpouring of emotion started to subside a little. Laura passed me a tissue that she’d produced from somewhere, and I wiped my tear-soaked face. She knelt down beside me.

“Did that help?” she asked quietly.

“Uh?” I said dumbly.

“Did that help? Letting all that out? You’ve clearly been bottling that all up for a while now,” she said. “I didn’t want to push you too hard because I figured you should probably come to that conclusion yourself. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you’re suffering. I wish I could do more for you.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, sniffing. I wiped my dripping nose with the now-sodden tissue. Laura passed me another one without a word.

“Are you all right for this afternoon?” she asked. “Or do you want me to take you home?”

I thought about it for a minute, and decided that I really didn’t feel up to the afternoon. I didn’t want everyone staring at me, even though I had a sneaking suspicion that no-one really gave a shit.

“Home,” I said. “Please.”

“All right,” said Laura. “Let me go sort some things out, then I’ll take you home. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” I said in a voice that was little more than a whisper. She smiled at me and walked out the door, closing it behind her. I was left alone in the classroom.

I leaned forward and rested my head on the desk, then closed my eyes for a moment. I took some deep breaths, trying as hard as I could to compose myself.

When I sat back up and opened my eyes again, I was confronted with an unwelcome sight. The lights in the room had gone off, and the muted background sound of students milling around the building at lunchtime had gone. I felt a crawling sensation on my spine as I recognised this strange phenomenon from what had happened before.

“Hello,” came an unfamiliar voice from somewhere behind me. “How are you feeling?”

I froze in shock. There was no-one else in this classroom a moment ago. Who was this?

“You know, it’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you.”

I closed my eyes. This wasn’t happening. I was not hearing voices. I was not hearing voices. I was not hearing voices.

“Fine,” said the voice, which was soft, gentle and oddly soothing despite the shivers it sent down my spine, yet now displaying the slightest hint of irritability. “Have it your way. This isn’t over. And eventually you’re going to have to face this head-on. But I can see now that you’re not ready yet.”

I said nothing. I was too afraid. I closed my eyes and screwed up my face. I wanted to cry again, but no tears would come.

I heard the door open. When I opened my eyes, Laura was standing there.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you home. You look like crap.”

It was a light-hearted jibe, but I was pretty sure it was the truth, too. I got to my feet and found that my legs were shaking. My heart was pounding. I was afraid. But Laura was here now. I could always rely on Laura. She’d keep me safe.

Laura stayed with me for several hours when I got home. We didn’t say anything to one another. I just lay on my bed and she sat on the side holding my hand, occasionally squeezing it a little more strongly to remind me she was still there. Her presence was a comfort. I didn’t want her to go away, but I knew she’d have to eventually.

That time came as the light was starting to fade.

“I’d better get home,” she said. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay longer, but my folks will worry otherwise.”

“Okay,” I whispered, not moving.

“I’ll see myself out,” she said. “Take care of yourself.”

Then she was gone. I heard the front door open, then close again a moment later. I had no idea what time it was. I felt I should probably sleep, but it wasn’t happening. I closed my eyes and all I found myself doing was remembering that chilling voice from earlier.

“What the… what happened?” came a voice suddenly. I jumped and my heart began to race as I recognised the voice as Alice’s. “Whoa. You’re there. Again. This is… wow. This is messed up. I…”

She’d walked into my room. Or appeared from somewhere. I don’t know what had happened, but Alice was standing by the side of my bed looking at me with wide eyes. She didn’t look scared or tearful this time, just curious. She always was stronger than me.

I couldn’t move. This was all too much. I felt the weight on my bed shift as she sat down beside me.

“It’s really you, isn’t it?” she said. “I don’t know how it’s happened or why, but I’m glad I got to see you again.”

I turned my head to look up at her face. She was smiling slightly.

“I’m glad too,” I said quietly.

Her smile broadened a little.

Then, to my surprise, she simply disappeared. The weight on the side of my bed was gone, and that smile was gone too.

I sat up immediately and climbed out of bed.

“Alice?” I called. “Alice! Where are you?”

I got no response. She was gone. Once again, I was alone in an empty house. I was starting to get tired of constantly regaining and losing the things that were important to me. All I wanted more than anything else right now was some stability, but I had a strange feeling that I wouldn’t be seeing any of that for quite some time.

I flopped back down onto my bed face-down and closed my eyes.

I just wanted to sleep in peace. I just wanted all this to go away. How could I make it go away?

A dark thought crossed my mind, and not for the first time, but I pushed it back hastily as I always did. There was one way that all this could go away and I wouldn’t have to worry any more. But that was no way out. I couldn’t do that to the people who cared about me.

“The people who cared about me.” That implied there was more than one. But really, there was just Laura. I couldn’t bear the thought of making her cry again, though. So I couldn’t do… that.

I just wanted peace, though. Simple, pure, peace. Why couldn’t I be left in peace? Why couldn’t I just get on with my life?

“I can see now that you’re not ready yet,” the voice had said to me.

Ready for what?

That was the last thought I had before the world faded out and I succumbed once again to deep, exhausted sleep.

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.

1021: Still-Untitled Month-Long Work of Fiction, Chapter 4

I’d spent so much of the day asleep that despite the unsociable hour, I actually felt surprisingly alert. I sat straight up after seeing the time, and propped myself on the side of the bed. I rubbed my face and yawned, then sighed dejectedly.

Why couldn’t I just lead a nor–

No, I thought, interrupting myself. I gave up a “normal” life long ago. It wasn’t entirely voluntarily, of course, but there was always the possibility of moving in with some distant far-off relative that I didn’t really know. I had put my foot down, though; I had no desire whatsoever to do that. I struggled enough to make friends as it was; uprooting myself from the home I’d known since I’d been born would be too difficult. Enough money had been left for me to continue living here, so that is what I decided to do. It was the most assertive I’d ever been.

The money would run out eventually, of course, but that was a bridge I would cross when I came to it — and it was also the main reason I was still sticking with college and attempting to better myself. I knew that 18-year olds were supposed to prioritise socialising and getting drunk or something — judging from the conversations I often overheard in the common room, anyway — but for me, left all alone, the priority was getting my life in order. Forced to grow up too fast, as people tended to say in this sort of situation.

I sighed again. No, the “normal life” ship had sailed long ago, but that didn’t mean that I had to suffer from these constantly-disturbed sleep patterns and… whatever it was that had happened yesterday. I was trying not to think about it too much, but the more I tried to put it out of my mind, the more I remembered. The strange, sudden darkness; the feeling of desertion, of being all alone — what had happened? Had it really happened at all?

And then there was the matter of the night before, too. I still couldn’t explain what had gone on there, and I was still uneasy about it. But alongside the uneasiness, a feeling of curiosity was starting to creep in — the same feeling you get when you know that there’s a massive spider in a hole in the wall and that it will freak you out when you see it, but you find yourself wanting to peek in anyway.

I had to know. Or I had to try and find out, anyway.

I stood up. I was still wearing my clothes from earlier. Laura and I were close, but she evidently drew the line at undressing me when putting me to bed. I was okay with that. As fond as I was of Laura, I didn’t really feel comfortable with the idea of exposing myself to her like that. And she probably didn’t either.

I shook my head to eject the stray thoughts and focus on the task at hand. I had to see what was going on. Would it happen again? Or would I have just imagined it all? It could go either way, and there was only one way to find out.

I paused at the door to my room. What would it mean if it did happen again? Would it mean my sister was… alive? And if so, how? And why? And where was she when she wasn’t here? There were too many unanswered, unanswerable questions; questions that threatened to bog me down and prevent me from pushing forward to satisfy this gnawing sense of curiosity.

I flung open the door to my room rather more forcefully than I intended and stepped out into the hallway. A few steps later, I was outside the closed door of my sister’s room. My heart was pounding. My breathing was rapid. I felt uneasy. And that peculiar sense of tension I’d experienced before was back once again, and stronger this time. It was hard to describe; I felt it deep in my stomach, and it wouldn’t go away. If I had to attribute a particular feeling to it, it was as if I was being watched by something so horrifying that I would go mad if I ever saw it, that it was toying with me before it did something unspeakably awful, that it was biding its time, waiting to strike when I least expected it.

I swallowed. Concentrating on the feeling hadn’t made me feel any more confident about what I was going to do. In fact, it had made me freeze up in terror. My hand hovered over the doorknob to my sister’s old room and I found myself unable to move.

Keep it together, I thought. Keep it together. Come on. Come on. You can do this. It’s just a room. Just a room.

I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. I opened my eyes again, grasped the doorknob firmly and pushed it open.

Inside, the room was dark, and I couldn’t make anything out. It was a cloudy night, so the moonlight was far fainter than it had been previously. I considered turning the light on, but thought better of it. Instead, I simply stood in the doorway, waiting for my eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness.

Vague shapes gradually started to swirl into view as my eyes adjusted themselves. I could see her bed resting against the far wall, but I couldn’t tell if there was anyone in it from the doorway. I couldn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean anything.

What was I expecting to find? What was I hoping to find? Did I want to find my sister in that bed, or would it be better to find just empty covers? What would it mean if she was there? What if she wasn’t? Should I wake her if she was? Should I try again if she wasn’t?

The questions started coming thick and fast in my mind, and they weren’t helping with my already-frayed nerves. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath again, trying to clear my mind; in, two, three, four; out, two, three, four.

I took a step forward into the darkness. Then another. A floorboard creaked beneath my feet. I froze — I don’t know how long for, but it felt like an eternity. When nothing happened, I relaxed a little and took another step forward. I was nearly at the edge of the bed now, and–

Suddenly, all at once, my eyes were assailed by bright light and I heard movement. I was dazzled by the light, but could tell it wasn’t the main room’s light. It was coming from the bed.

I heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh my God,” came a familiar voice, little more than a whisper. “Oh my God. Oh my God. How…”

I froze again. There was no sense in running now. It would achieve nothing. My answers were sitting in front of me, shining some sort of bright light in my face so that I couldn’t see.

“Is that you?” hissed the voice, still whispering. “Is that really you?”

Silence. I didn’t quite know what to say. There was one obvious thing to say, of course, but it proved difficult to make my voice cooperate and actually say it.

The long silence was probably only a few seconds at most, but it felt as if time had stopped. Eventually, the voice broke it before I could get a word out.

“It is, isn’t it?” it said, answering its own question. It sounded like it was cracking; was she crying? “How is this possible?”

“Yes,” I managed to say eventually in a broken, dry voice. “It’s me.”

I heard that sharp intake of breath again. The bright light was still shining in my face, but it moved as I heard the owner of the voice shift. Was she getting up?

I heard footsteps on the floor coming towards me, and the light dropped as I felt a presence close to me. I heard her breathing, then I felt a delicate hand on my chest. Another gasp from her; I was too nervous to make another sound.

A moment later, I felt a pair of arms throw themselves around me and a head barge into my chest. The bright light fell to the floor with a “thump,” its glow illuminating the area around us. There was no mistake; sobbing in my arms was my sister Alice, and as I hesitantly embraced her and placed my hands on her shoulders, I felt that she was warm; alive.

We stood like that for a few minutes, Alice crying into my shirt, me standing dumbly embracing her. She eventually released me from her iron grip and stepped backwards, slumping backwards to sit on the bed. She reached down and picked up the light from the floor, using it to guide her way to the lightswitch by the bed. She flicked it on and suddenly both our eyes were assaulted by an even brighter glow than before, this time from the room’s main bulb.

I screwed up my eyes against the bright glow. The inside of my eyelids glowed red from the brilliance of the light. I gradually opened them a crack, a little more at a time until I was looking on a sight I thought I’d never see again.

My little sister Alice, her mousy-brown hair bedraggled and her face weary-looking, was sitting on the side of the bed in her nightdress. Her mobile phone — the source of the bright light from before — lay on the bed beside her. Her bare feet and legs were fidgeting uncomfortably, and she was looking to one side, seemingly trying to avoid looking in my direction. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, though. I gazed at her, unblinking, for several minutes. Neither of us said anything, but I felt a tear fall from the corner of my eye. I didn’t know if it was because I hadn’t blinked or whether it was the sheer emotion of the moment. But she was there. There was no mistaking that fact.

After a moment, she turned her head and looked up at me at last. Her eyes were red, and the bags under them showed how tired she was. Tears had left streaks down her face, and she looked like she was in some distress.

“How…” she whispered to herself. “How…”

“I don’t know,” I said to her, finding my voice finally. “But however it’s happened, it’s happened. I’m here now, Alice, and I won’t let you go again.”

I knelt down on the floor in front of her and moved to embrace her again, but she stopped me. She steeled herself and spoke.

“Wait,” she said softly, her voice wavering. “What do you mean?”

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” I said. “I thought I’d never see you again. But now that you’re here… Alice, I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”

Her face loosened and I could see that she was starting to cry again.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her voice breaking and her words coming more quickly, more urgently. “You never lost me. I never left you. You never failed to keep me safe.”

She swallowed deeply and looked straight at me, her eyes brimming with tears.

“You never lost me,” she said again. “I’m the one who lost you. You were dead, at least I thought you were, but you’re not. Why are you not dead? Why are you here now? I don’t understand!”

She broke down in uncontrollable tears and was unable to say anything else. I took her in my arms and hugged her sobbing face to my chest. But comforting her was far from my mind; I held onto her feeling nothing but a horrible sense of nauseous shock at what she had just said to me.

1020: As-Yet Untitled Month-Long Work of Fiction, Chapter 3

The morning at college passed relatively uneventfully. I threw myself into my English language and literature studies, and by the time it got to the lunch hour, I was starting to feel a little more human.

Laura came and found me as I was leaving the classroom.

“C’mon,” she said. “I’m buying you lunch, and you can talk about what’s eating you.”

I considered protesting for a moment, but thought better of it. Laura usually knew better than to pester me, but when she had made her mind up that she was going to “help”, she was difficult to get rid of. And besides, I’d been thinking that talking about it all might actually help.

I still didn’t know how I was going to bring it up, though. It was all too weird, still.

I followed Laura through the bustling lunchtime corridors to the cafeteria. She bought us each a plate of the goopy but delicious macaroni cheese that they served here every Monday, and led me out of the busy cafeteria back in the direction of our tutor group’s classroom. It was always deserted at lunchtime, and our tutor Mr “Call Me Bob” Gladwell didn’t mind us borrowing it as a nice private hangout on occasion.

Today, it was empty as usual. Laura set down her plate at one of the desks and sat down. I pulled a chair around and sat across from her. We took our first few mouthfuls in silence. Then, she laid her fork down, and I knew the interrogation was about to begin.

“So what’s up?” she asked bluntly. “You looked like crap this morning and you still look pretty knackered now. Did something happen?”

I took another bite of my lunch, considering the best way to tackle this. Just telling the truth — or what I thought was the truth, at least — would surely make me seem like I was going mad, so I decided to be vague.

“No, nothing happened,” I said quietly. “I’ve just been… you know, thinking.”

“Uh-huh,” said Laura. “About… that time?”

“Yeah,” I said. Neither of us liked saying it. Those words — the d-words — were all so final, so utterly without hope, that I just couldn’t ever get them out of my mouth. Whenever possible, I used euphemisms like “passed on” or distancing words like “deceased” — or more commonly, simply referring vaguely back to “you know, that time”. Laura had picked up on this quickly — she was always sharp — and followed suit. We knew each other well enough by now that we didn’t have to make things explicit. It made me feel comfortable talking to her that I didn’t have to explain these things. I had never been good with putting my feelings into words, but Laura understood me just fine.

“So what was it this time?” she asked. “Bad dreams? Dark thoughts?”

“Bit of both,” I said, trying to brush it off. “I’m not sure. I think I’m just tired.”

“That much is obvious,” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she leaned forwards to look more closely at me. “The bags under your eyes are so dark you look like you’ve been punched in the face.”

I chuckled slightly at her blunt comments.

“You should take better care of yourself,” she said. “I know you think you can handle all this stuff by yourself, but, you know, you can ask for help if you need it.”

My face fell somewhat. I didn’t like it when people had this conversation with me. I was resolved to surviving through my problems and not dragging anyone else down with me, but everyone always seemed so desperate to help all the time. I couldn’t win. I felt guilty if I asked someone for help; I felt guilty when people suggested that I wasn’t asking for enough help. It was easier to just hide away and deal with things myself.

“Hey, now, come on,” said Laura. “Don’t make that face. There’s no shame in it. It’s all right. People are looking out for you. People are worried about you.”

I appreciated her attention, I really did, but this conversation was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. It always did, whoever had it with me, and I knew it was completely irrational, but there was nothing I could do about it. It was an automatic response. Any time it came up, I just found myself wanting to get away from it as quickly as possible.

“I, uh, I’ll be right back,” I said, pushing my plate away and standing up from the desk. “I just need to go to the toilet.”

Laura smiled. “You could have just excused yourself,” she said. “I didn’t need to know the details. But I’ll be here. See you in a minute.”

I walked out of the classroom. I wasn’t running away, I just needed a breather. And I did kind of need the toilet, too.

I walked down the corridor, avoiding eye contact with my fellow students who were still wandering around aimlessly as the lunch break continued. Eventually, I came to the gents’ bathroom door and went inside.

It was empty, brightly lit by the flickering fluorescent light on the ceiling and stank of piss as usual. I was pretty sure the cleaners had long since given up on trying to give this bathroom any kind of pleasant smell, because it always stank this bad in here. I wrinkled my nose and tried to ignore it as I pushed the door of a cubicle open, locked the door behind me and sat down on the toilet seat to compose myself.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. In, two, three, four… out, two, three, four. In, two, three, four… out, two, three, four.

I opened my eyes again. I blinked. And blinked again.

Something wasn’t right.

For starters, the bright light of the fluorescent tube was gone. It was dark. Secondly, there was something strange in the air. Or, more to the point, the air seemed to be completely still. The stench of stale piss had gone, and there didn’t seem to be the slightest breeze or movement in the air, even as I stood up and moved around.

I fumbled in front of me for the latch on the cubicle, which was difficult to find in the darkness, and popped it open. I pulled open the door and stepped out into the darkened bathroom. My footsteps echoed on the polished floor, but that was the only sound — I couldn’t hear the plumbing, the heating or indeed the sounds of any people outside.

I carefully felt my way to the bathroom door, opened it and stepped out into the corridor. It was dark out there, too.

My throat went dry, and I started to get a familiar feeling of uneasiness. This obviously wasn’t right, and I had absolutely no explanation of what was happening here. I swallowed deeply and felt my pulse quicken somewhat.

Laura, I thought. I should find Laura.

I walked back down the corridor towards where our classroom should be. This passageway was deep inside the building, so there wasn’t much in the way of natural light, but the occasional recognisable glow of daylight off in the distance helped me to get my bearings. My senses felt like they were heightened; I could hear my blood pumping in my ears. Thump, thump; thump, thump. What was happening to me?

I reached the classroom door, grasped the handle, pushed it open and stepped inside–

–and Laura was there as if nothing had happened. The lights were back on, and she was there, smiling at me, obviously oblivious to the strange occurrence. I turned around and looked behind me, and the lights were back on in the corridor, too; the students were still milling to and fro, and the familiar ambient noise of the college at lunchtime was back once again.

Laura’s smile quickly disappeared when she saw my face.

“Jesus Christ, you look white as a sheet,” she said, standing up and rushing to my side. “Are you feeling all right?”

I staggered slightly. I felt a bit dizzy. I slumped to the side and steadied myself on the door frame.

“No,” I said. “I’m not feeling all right. I… I don’t feel well at all.”

“Come on,” she said. “We’re off to the nurse’s office.”

Laura took me firmly by the hand and led me through the milling students — some of whom might have been giving us a strange look, but my head was too clouded to care by this point — until we reached the nurse’s office. I didn’t remember walking there — before I knew it, I was lying on the bench with the nurse peering at me over the top of a pair of thick spectacles.

I closed my eyes as she examined me. I couldn’t hear anything any more. I just wanted to sleep. I needed to sleep. It was all too much. Just let me sleep.

I awoke several hours later, still on the bench. I sat up suddenly, which caused the woollen blanket that had been laid over me to fall to the floor.

“Where am I?” I blurted out. I blinked and tried to orient myself. My eyes were bleary and took a while to come into focus. “What happened?”

“You scared me half to death, that’s what happened,” came a familiar voice. I heard running footsteps and felt a pair of arms fling themselves around me long before I saw its source. “What’s wrong with you?”

Laura was sobbing. I felt bad. I’d made her cry. This is exactly why I didn’t want people to get involved. I only dragged them down and made them upset. I didn’t deserve to be worried over. But still, there she was.

I heard the door open, and the nurse came back in.

“Ah, welcome back,” she said. “I hope you feel better after a good rest. You clearly needed it.”

I did feel a bit better. Evidently my body had just given up on trying to remain conscious and passed out.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry,” I added, turning to Laura and sheepishly putting my hands on her waist.

“Look after yourself, for fuck’s sake,” Laura said, pulling back from me. I could see the tears streaming down her face. She was really worried. I felt awful. “Please.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll try.”

“Are you all right to take him home, Miss?” said the nurse. “He should be all right now he’s had a bit of a rest so I won’t refer this to anyone else for now, but make sure he gets home safe and sound, all right? And come back if this happens again.”

“Uh-huh,” said Laura, sniffing. The two were talking about me as if I wasn’t here, but I didn’t really feel capable of saying anything meaningful right now, so I just let them carry on as if I was a sick child.

“Come on,” said Laura, grabbing my hand and pulling me up off the bench. “Let’s get you home.”

I didn’t remember much about the ride home. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Laura helped me into my house and upstairs into my bed, and I fell asleep almost straight away. I don’t know how long she sat there watching over me, but she was gone when I eventually awoke.

I turned my head and looked over to the bright green glow of the digits on my clock radio.

Hello again, 2:30 a.m. We meet again.

1019: As-Yet Untitled Month-Long Work of Fiction, Chapter 2

I couldn’t deal with it. It was too much. The book fell from my hands, forgotten, and hit the floor with a thump. I fled the room at high speed, not looking back.

That couldn’t have been true. It couldn’t have happened. It just couldn’t. She was… No. She was definitely gone. She couldn’t have been there. It was just the tiredness in my mind playing tricks on me. Just the exhaustion.

I flew into my room and slammed the door behind me. I sat down on the edge of the bed and closed my eyes, trying to compose myself. I was hyperventilating; my heart was pounding. I could hear the blood pumping in my ears, and my senses were keenly alert.

What had just happened?

I took some deep breaths — in… out. In… out. In… out. I felt my pulse slow a little, but I still felt on edge, like something awful was about to happen, or something dangerous was about to “get” me.

The rational side of my brain said to me that this was ridiculous; even though what I saw should have been impossible, it wasn’t dangerous, it was only my sister, after all. There wasn’t anything strange about her, just that…

Just that she shouldn’t have been there at all.

My mind kept coming back to that point. She shouldn’t have been there. There was no way that she could have been there. It was impossible. Physically impossible. And yet I was finding it difficult to believe that right now, because if it had been some sort of hallucination, it was a damned realistic one.

I didn’t have much experience with hallucinations. I’d had a couple brought on by tiredness, but there had been nothing with such clarity — in most cases the rational side of my brain had been able to win out and convince the irrational part that what it was seeing was, in fact, complete nonsense. It hadn’t stopped me from hiding under the bedclothes in a panic, of course, but when I eventually emerged and found myself alone with nothing but my own thoughts as usual, I was able to relax… somewhat.

This felt different though.

I clenched my fists and opened my eyes. I had to know if what I had seen was real or not. Was I going mad? It was possible. I hadn’t had any proper human contact for a few days now, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that my mind was conjuring up imaginary people for me to interact with, but…

I stood up, opened my door with an attempt at confidence and walked down the hallway, back towards my sister’s old room. My hands were trembling. Every sound the creaky floor of the upstairs hallway made felt amplified, and the journey — one of just a few steps — felt like it was going on forever.

Eventually I arrived at her door. It was still slightly ajar from when I reached it, but there did not appear to be any light coming from within. Had she simply turned out the light and gone back to sleep? Or had I imagined the whole thing?

There was only one way to find out.

My hand hovered over the doorknob once again as I prepared to push it open. I felt uneasy and tense — my hands were still trembling slightly — but this was different from before. I didn’t feel the same palpable sense of anxiety and fear that I did last time.

No more hesitating. I pushed the door open a little more forcefully, causing it to bang into the wall with a loud “thump.”

Inside, the room was just as I expected it to be — the bed neatly made up, the lights off, nothing out of place.

And no sign of my sister.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about it all. I sat down on the edge of the now-vacant bed and tried to clear my mind, tried to make some sense of what had happened. But there wasn’t any sense to make of it. It absolutely did not make sense. At all.

“What is happening to me?” I said out loud to no-one in particular. The empty room did not answer. I rubbed my face and eyes in frustration and looked around the dark room, the small pool of moonlight creeping through the gap in the curtains still casting its eerie glow on the floor.

That’s when I noticed something odd.

I remembered why I had originally come into this room in the first place — to get a book — and I suddenly remembered dropping it when I fled. But looking down at the floor right now… where was it?

It wasn’t there.

I got down off the bed and onto my hands and knees, and crawled around on the floor, feeling around to see if I could find the distinctive lump that was the hardback book I’d pulled randomly out of the shelf before. I was too afraid to turn the light on, as it would confirm my suspicions beyond all doubt.

It wasn’t there. It just wasn’t there. All I could feel everywhere on the floor was carpet. There was nothing there. The book had gone.

I stood up and walked to the shelf where I had taken it from. I felt along the row of books on the top shelf — sure enough, there was the gap. But where was the book?

I swallowed deeply. My throat was dry again, but this time from fear rather than dehydration. My stomach was churning and I felt nauseous. I couldn’t understand what was happening here. It was all too much.

I ran out of the room, back to my bedroom and hid under the covers. I closed my eyes and covered my ears, trying as hard as I could to will myself out of this strange and terrifying world that the night had become.

It wasn’t long before I eventually succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I awoke several hours later as the alarm on my phone went off. I no longer trusted the old clock radio to wake me up reliably, so I tended to set my phone’s alarm to be as loud and obnoxious as possible, then leave it on the other side of the room so I had to get up to make the noise stop. This morning it was some sort of awful klaxon noise. Groaning, I hauled myself out from under the covers into the welcome sight of daylight and staggered over to my desk where my phone lay, bellowing its obscene noises to anyone who would listen. I silenced it and just leaned on my desk for a moment.

I really didn’t know what to make of last night. The only explanation I could think of was that I was so exhausted I had conjured up the whole scenario from my imagination. That had to be the case.

But it didn’t explain the book.

That book. I didn’t even know what book it was, having picked it up in the dark and dropped it in terror before I’d even seen the cover. I knew it was a hardback, slightly oversized volume, but that’s it. It wasn’t important what book it was, of course, but I found myself wondering whether even that was something my addled brain had imagined.

Was the whole thing a dream? I didn’t think so. It felt far too vivid and there were far too many details that were still all-too-clear in my mind. Details that didn’t make any sense, of course, but details nonetheless.

There was nothing to do, though; the weekend was over, and I was going to be late if I didn’t get moving.

I pulled on the clothes that I’d left hanging semi-neatly over the back of the chair and made my way downstairs to get some breakfast. Laura would be here soon, and I didn’t want her worrying about me any more than she already did. At least I’d managed to actually get some sleep last night for once, but I felt — and probably looked — like a wreck.

Laura was one of a few people who’d stuck by me through thick and thin. We’d been friends for a long time, and she’d been a particular pillar of support ever since that night. She came by every so often to make sure I was all right; sometimes I didn’t want to see her, and she’d learned not to argue when that was the case. The fits of irrational anger born of my own sadness and frustrations had subsided somewhat recently, meaning that I hadn’t yelled at her for a very long time — and still felt guilty about all the times I had — but still she watched out for me.

On weekdays, when I felt up to it, I went with her to college. The one thing I had refused to give up on even in my darkest hours was my own future, so I was determined to get through my course intact. I knew that the teachers and my peers trod carefully around me and tried not to do anything to put me out due to my circumstances. I kind of wished that they wouldn’t. As cold and detached as I’d become — even more than I used to be — some days I just wanted to feel like I “fit in,” that I had a normal life.

That was never going to happen any more, though. The idea of “normality” had been taken from me that night along with those dear to me. I’d come to accept it — mostly — but it was occasionally painful to be reminded of it.

As I sipped my coffee and put the last of my hot, slightly-burnt buttered toast into my mouth, the doorbell rang. I glanced up at the clock on the oven to see that Laura was right on time as usual. I drained my coffee cup and swallowed my toast hastily before walking out into the hallway, throwing on my coat and picking up my bag before opening the door.

“Hey,” said Laura, her kind, gentle face looking up at me. “You ready?”

“Yep,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

I closed and locked the door behind me and we walked together to her car, which was parked just outside on the road.

“You all right?” she asked as she fumbled with her keys in an attempt to unlock the door. I’d told her a thousand times that she really didn’t need to lock her car for the minute it took to come and pick me up and walk back to it, but she never listened.

“Mm,” I said, my mind elsewhere. The cool, early morning breeze was feeling surprisingly good today for some reason.

“You sure?” she said. “You look knackered.”

“Didn’t sleep well,” I said. “I’m all right, though.”

“Uh-huh. If you’re sure,” she said with a kind smile. She knew not to press me any further for now. If I felt like talking about it, I’d talk about it.

To be honest, I did feel like talking about it, but I had no idea what to say. I couldn’t explain the strange events of the previous night at all. And I wasn’t even sure that they’d actually happened. People probably already thought my mental state was fragile enough as it was; I didn’t need Laura thinking that I’d gone completely nuts.

I resolved to try and figure out a way to bring it up later. For now, I’d just try and occupy myself as much as possible with college work and deal with it later.

I leaned back in the car seat and let the music on the stereo wash over me as Laura pulled away and we set off on our daily journey. I closed my eyes and tried to relax; I tried to smile.

But that smile wouldn’t come. Moments after I closed my eyes, my mind just started picturing her face — that face I never thought I’d see again. My sister.

Where was she? Was she really out there somewhere? Or just in my mind?

1018: As-Yet Untitled Month-Long Work of Fiction, Chapter 1

[Note for people who haven’t been paying attention: I am not “officially” doing NaNoWriMo (though if this goes well I may sign up late) but, much like I did last year with Wasteland Diaries, I am going to spend the month of November writing a long-form piece of fiction a chapter at a time. I’m aiming for 1800-2000 words per day, to be published on this ‘ere blog a chapter at a time. Let’s get started.]

I turned my head to the side to glance at the dull green glow of my clock radio, that faithful old gizmo that didn’t really work properly any more but which I’d always kept by the side of my bed for as long as I could remember. At least the clock part still worked, even if the radio didn’t.

Half-past two in the morning. It was looking like another sleepless night.

It was the silence that did it. On nights like this, it just seemed oppressive, like it was palpable. The darkness seemed to close around my head, crushing me, suffocating me. Most of the time when this happened, I ended up getting up and doing something — anything — to try and occupy myself until the sun came up, at which point I’d start another day as if nothing happened. No-one ever commented on the obvious bags under my eyes. It wasn’t that they didn’t care; it’s that people had long since learned to tread carefully around me. I hadn’t taught them that. In many ways, I would have preferred it somewhat if people had taken a little more interest in my mental wellbeing, but I guess I’d always been somewhat aloof and standoffish, and my protestations that I could handle things by myself had led people to think that I was happier by myself.

I wasn’t.

I groaned to myself and sat up on the side of the bed. The darkness continued to swirl around me, so I reached up and flicked on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness invading the room and chasing the shadows away.

I was so tired. I felt like I hadn’t slept properly for… how long? I’d lost count. Eventually I usually did succumb to exhaustion after a day or two of tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling, but it did worry me sometimes. I’d considered going to the doctor about it, but they’d only want to talk about it all and give me medicine. As much as it would probably help, I really didn’t want to become dependent on medicine to get through activities like sleeping — things that, let’s face it, normal people have absolutely no problems with.

My situation was far from normal, though. How many other 18 year olds had a huge house like this to themselves? Not many, I’d imagine. And those that did probably found themselves in possession of it in a similar manner to how I did. That didn’t really make me feel any better.

The nightmares about that terrible evening had long since stopped and been replaced with the sort of numb feeling I was experiencing, but I still found myself reminiscing in a morbid sort of way sometimes. I found myself pondering if I could have done anything differently, but of course I couldn’t. I was far away from being able to do anything, hearing the horrible details from an anonymous voice on the other end of the phone, completely helpless to do anything. I screamed and raged and cried solidly for the rest of the night, but it wouldn’t help. There was nothing to do. They were gone — my mother, father and sister, all taken from me in one fell swoop. So senseless. So frustrating. Fate has no remorse.

I rubbed my face and stood up. It wouldn’t do to dwell on those past events right now. What I needed to do was occupy my mind. Perhaps I could read a book or watch some terrible early-morning TV. My first priority was to get a drink for my dry throat, however. I always seemed to dehydrate when I was anxious, and tonight was no exception. My throat felt like it was lined with cut glass. It hurt to swallow.

The stairs made those familiar creaks as I walked down them. The first one would make a sort of “crunch” noise, the second would “click”, the third would “groan”. There wasn’t anything wrong with them, they were just noisy stairs. I’d been hearing these noises ever since I’d been born, and I’d always found them strangely comforting. I’d always been able to tell how close someone was to the top floor simply by the sounds of the stairs, and over time I’d even learned to recognise the different sounds different people made on them.

Now, of course, there was only me to make a sound on them. I tried to vary my pattern every so often, but more often than not it was just the usual trudge, trudge, trudge; crunch, click, groan.

I flicked on the light in the kitchen and pulled out a glass from the cupboard above the microwave. It clinked loudly as I knocked it against another one. Sounds always seemed louder in the middle of the night. A long time ago, I had thought this was just because of trying to avoid being noticed by people who were asleep; but even now, everything always seems amplified when I’m doing it at the “wrong” time. The world should be asleep now, I found myself thinking. Why aren’t I?

I filled up the glass with some water from the tap and gulped the whole thing down straight away, immediately refilling it. I took just a sip this time. The tap water wasn’t particularly pleasant, but it helped soothe my dry throat somewhat. I swalllowed deeply, and after a few more mouthfuls of water, it ceased to hurt when I did so.

How was I going to while away the night this time? The green glow of the clock on the oven indicated that a quarter of an hour had passed since I’d decided to forgo sleep, and I wasn’t any closer to making a decision on how I was going to pass the time. My brain felt woolly and numb and my eyelids felt heavy, but I knew that if I lay down I wouldn’t be able to drift off. It would be pointless. I might as well do something. Anything.

Perhaps a book, I thought. And I know just where to find one.

I rinsed out the now-empty glass and put it upside-down on the draining board, then switched off the light in the kitchen and walked back upstairs. Trudge, trudge, trudge; groan, click, crunch. I didn’t have the energy to do anything different.

My room was at the far end of the upstairs hallway. On the right was the door to what was once my parents’ bedroom; on the left, the bathroom and my sister’s former bedroom. I hadn’t done anything with these rooms out of a combination of respect and laziness. Both were still made up as they were on that day, as if they were expecting their residents to just come home at any time. All of the doors were closed, which tended to mean they smelled a bit musty on the few occasions when I went in there, but I preferred it that way. I could look in on them, frozen in time as they were, and then simply close them off when I wanted to. Out of sight, out of mind. It may sound callous, but I preferred it that way.

Tonight, I decided I would look in on my sister’s room. She had always had some well-stocked bookshelves, as she was an avid reader. I hadn’t developed that trait until long after she was gone, but now I regularly raided her collection. I often found myself wishing that she was still here just so I could talk about the books I’d read with her — she loved to talk — but there was no helping it. Sometimes I just sat on her bed and talked to her anyway, just imagining she was there, hanging on her big brother’s words. She was a good girl. I missed her more than my parents. I felt guilty every time I thought that to myself, but it was true. We’d spent much of our lives as bitter rivals who didn’t really get along with one another, but I regretted that now. Now, I wanted nothing more than to give her what she had wanted all along — to be treated as an equal, as a peer, not as the annoying younger sister I’d always regarded her as.

My hand hesitated over the doorknob to her room for some reason. Something felt… strange. There was a curious feeling of tension in the air. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was, but it was there the moment I put my hand near her door. I removed it and it went away; I put it back, and there it was again. What was that?

Shaking it off as just my exhausted mind playing tricks on me, I steeled myself and grasped the doorknob again. I turned it to the side quietly and gently — those old night-time habits are hard to break — and pushed open the door, which made a slight “squeak” as it opened for what was probably the first time in several weeks.

Inside, it was dark, but I knew my way around well enough to not need the light. I’d done this several times in the past — just walked in, picked a random book in the dark, then decided to read it. I found it quite fun — it made me try some things that I might not have otherwise given a chance, and I found myself enjoying some surprising titles. My sister enjoyed everything from trashy pulp romances to epic, multi-part fantasy sagas, so there was always something new for me to try — and somehow, I hadn’t pulled out the same book twice yet.

Tonight, I decided to pick one from the top shelf at the far end of the room, near the window. The bright moonlight was peeking in through the small gap I’d left in the curtains — I kept them shut most of the time — and casting a pool of light on the floor. I walked towards the far shelves, using the light from the window as my guide, and reached up to take a book. Hmm. Felt like a hardback. Glossy cover, slightly oversized format. I wonder what it could be. I pulled it out from the shelf and turned to leave.

The strange feeling of tension at the back of my mind was still irking me, and it felt like it had been getting stronger ever since I’d walked into the room. What was it? I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something felt… wrong. Something felt weird. This wasn’t right. Why wasn’t it right? Was I cracking up? Was the stress of being alone finally taking its toll on my mind?

Clasping the book to my chest, I started to feel a growing sense of inexplicable, inescapable panic. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but that gnawing feeling of wrongness was starting to overtake me. I could feel my senses sharpening as my brain was clearly going into “fight or flight” mode. My pulse quickened, and cold sweat dripped down my back. What was the matter here? It was just me, getting a book from my sister’s room, the same as I’ve done many times in the past. Why was this freaking me out so much? Why was–

“Hey, what are you doing…?” came a bleary voice from the other side of the room, shattering the silence. I froze on the spot. My heart felt like it had stopped. “What time is i–”

Click.

The room suddenly filled with the harsh but warm glow of artificial light, tinted slightly by the colourful shade on the ceiling. I stood there, utterly paralysed in terror, unable to believe my eyes, for there, sitting up in bed, staring at me wide-eyed and obviously feeling something similar to the emotions I was currently being wracked by, was my deceased sister.