Deranged [n.h]

Chapter Seven

Seven rolls around faster then I had hoped for, and I grew more nervous and nervous with every tick of the clock. He had seemed a little odd ever since I met him, and now with him knowing where I lived added on to the oddness a ton more. I needed to find out what all this meant and what was going on tonight. Or, I knew I probably wouldn't be able to get some shut-eye without feeling scarred or on my toes

My dad wouldn't be home until later in the evening, so I made a commitment to myself that I would be home by at least 7:45, 8 at the latest. I grabbed my car keys and phone off the counter and headed off to the park. On the drive there, I had realized that I completely forgot about me leaving my medication in my dads study. I also completely forgot that it was meant to keep refrigerated at all times. Oh well, his fault for not telling me my own diagnosis in the first place. Which leaves me in thought, once more... I still don't know what this schizophrenia is.

I pull into the parking lot of the park, leaving my car by an evergreen tree. I step out taking in the crisp autumn air and feeling the wind tickle my arms. I love this kind of season - beautiful detailed leaves falling from now naked branches, cool, light sweater kind of weather, and almost cold enough to pull out the ole' fuzzy socks. Perfect time of year.

My thoughts come to a mistimed close as I see the boy I've been dreading to see since earlier today. He stands bold and confident, by the swings just as he promised. We make eye contact, and he begins to slowly come towards me. I feel a feeling of fear as he strides closer and closer... a fear, almost like he could appose as some sort of threat. His blonde hair seems to be getting darker and darker as the weather cools, but his eyes still look bluer as ever. And I can't help but also feel a warm feeling.

"Margaret, so glad you could make it." His Irish accent tints the whole sentence better.

"Me too," I squak. I know deep down I wish that I didn't have made it, that I stayed home. But I know that I need to figure out whatever the hell is happening.

He guides me over towards the swings in a gesture of asking me to sit with him. I silently accept, following him. We sit next to each other, as he leans back, swinging like a child. The further he leans, his legs do the opposite and float upward. He continues to do this for what seems like forever. With each creak of the swing gliding him forward and backward, I grow more uncomfortable.

Forward, backward,

"Niall?"

Forward, backward,

"Yeh?"

Forward, backward,

"Can I ask you something?"

Forward, backward, stop.

"Sure, I'm all ears."

Forward, backward. Ugh.

"Look, I just think that it's a lit-"

Forward, backward.

"mhm?"

Forward, backward,

"I'm just confused about,"

Forward, backward. The creaks of the unoiled swing-set drive me nuts, that I completely lose it.

"Can you please stop? I'm trying to talk to you." I finally give in, and he follows my orders. He drags his feet to a stop, feeling a little embarrassed. As much as I do hate to admit it, he looked so cute swinging like a little kid, enjoying himself.

"Okay, thank you," I say almost above a whisper. "Look, what I'm gonna say is something that has been a questions floating around up there since that night at the park." I gesture to my head.

He shifts in his seat, seeming uncomfortable, too. Why shouldn't he be?

"Why did you run off the other night when you said I reminded you of someone?" I question. He looks everywhere but my eyes. "And, how did you know where I live?" I ask the last part a little more quietly. It seems more appropriate that way to ask.

He stays silent. Just as expected. I don't know what to do, so I call his name again, trying to get him to answer me. Minutes seem like hours, and I feel like ive awaited his response a century.

"Niall, answer m-"

"I don't have a fucking answer, Margaret."

I feel more vulnerable then ever at his choice of words as he replies. I feel like I should run off, but I can't bring my feet to movement. I gulp down the air trapped in my throat and think of what to do. I don't know what to do. I feel the sun dimmering into the sky faster and faster, and my pulse quickens. I need to be getting home soon, but I also need to know. I bring my self to courage to speak up after a few beats of silence.

"I have the right to know, you show up at my place unexpectedly. We don't even know each other."

"Then why are you here?" he counters, emphasizing the you. He is right, why am I here?

"I,"

"Exactly."

He stands up from the swing. He seems so dark, and mysterious, and I feel obligated to know more, obligated to know more about him... But then there's this other side, his wicked side, and I feel to scarred to bother him, to question him. My curiosity kicks in, and I get up from the swing following him towards the parking lot.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"Away."

I look to the parking lot, and there sits my car, solitarily. Which leads me to more questions.

"How?" I ask.

He stops dead in his tracks. "What do you mean, how?" he slightly turns his head towards me. Not his full body.

"I mean, how are you gonna get away? I'm not going to believe that you walked here. There's at least a few miles until a neighborhood or apartment complex." I cross my arms. This sets him off.

"That's none of your business, now is it, Mar-ga-ret?" he turns towards me completely. Here comes the vulnerability feeling again.

"Who are you?" I say, my voice almost a whisper.

He doesn't say anything. Instead he looks me dead in the eyes, and I feel a feeling I haven't felt before. A black, bitter, horrifying feeling. I clench my eyes shut, shaking my head. When I open my eyes, he is now a few inches away from my face, and I expect to feel his warm breath against my skin but I don't. Suddenly, he leans in towards my ear.

"No one."