A Dance With Death

|| Prologue - I remember ||

You don't need to be the smartest person alive to know that it's strange to see those people in your life whom you never expected to -- especially if they're dead.

I saw him a month after his death. Not once, not twice, but several times; the first time being the day of packing and shifting to my new apartment. He only stared at me, standing across the street of my apartment building. I dropped the box I was holding and stared back at him, partly with horror and partly with amazement. He looked so real. He looked pale, but almost the same; the same blond hair, the same blue eyes, the same boy-ish innocence. Except there was something strange about him -- something unnatural.

I thought it to be the result of my mind playing games with me, until I saw him again a few months later at a crowded mall. He stared at me again, and then disappeared into thin air, just like the previous time. Again, he looked real enough to not be just an illusion.

This made me terrified. I used to think twice before leaving my home, doubting whether I would spot him again. I knew his death was not normal, but his appearances were far more bizarre than any uncanny thing I've experienced.

I didn't tell anyone about his appearances. However, everybody seemed to have enough reason to say that I should seek some help; professional help. I was very hesitant. I thought I was better on my own and it was very difficult to convince me. But a year after his death, I was forced to go visit a psychiatrist.

- - -

I was nervous; very nervous. I didn't know how but I even started to sweat. My hair had grown long as I hadn't bothered for a haircut the past few months. I now had realised the need to cut my hair short - they were sticking to the back of my neck and provided irritation to my already tensed self. I never even wanted to visit this place. I didn't need help.

The room where I was sitting in was quite small. The chair was uncomfortably soft. I remember that day to be windy for I heard the faint sound of wind chimes that were hung outside the window. There was a huge brown carpet on the floor. It looked quite fancy, so I had been careful not to step on it. There were many decoration pieces here and there, placed in a distasteful manner.

I had been having a fight with myself - one part of me wanted to stay and wait, while the other wanted to sneak out of here. The latter part was defeated when I heard a creaking sound. I looked up. The door in front of me opened revealing a short woman - who was barely five feet tall - smiling at me. Her blond hair was tied in a tight bun and she was dressed in an odd business attire. I didn't even care to smile back at her; there was no use.

"She will see you now Mr. Malik," she said, still smiling.

I nodded, but didn't say anything. I stood up and followed the tiny woman, who disappeared behind the door.

I was greeted by another lady, who was sitting on an armchair. Her grey hair shone underneath the sun rays that entered through the window. Her face may have been wrinkled, but her eyes resembled youth. She had an odd calmness about her.

"Dr. Warrington," I acknowledged the 'mental doctor'.

"Hello Zayn," she said. "Come. Have a seat." She motioned me to sit on a red sofa placed in front of her chair.

"Thanks."

"So, tell me about your problem," she asked once I was seated.

"You know my problem," I said blankly.

"Yes. But I would like to hear it from you."

"I don't feel comfortable talking about it."

"Come on Zayn. Think of me as a friend trying to help."