Fleeing the Baba Yaga

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Chapter Six

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Zayn left Dr Rossell's office the next day feeling... honestly, not great but at least he hadn't had another panic attack. It was a near thing though. He was jumpy and that wasn't all. Zayn was angry with himself, disappointed, ashamed even. All those horrible feelings he thought he had finally teased apart and put behind him had come back like not a day had passed since he'd last felt that horrible confining blackness.

From his last session he now knew it was because these feelings were somewhat directionless that they affected him so much. He didn't know what he was so afraid of, but he thought he should know. It was hard to let something go and move on when he just didn't know what he was letting go of! Dr. Rossell had prodded him a little further on this until he had confessed that he didn't want to go back to the way things were, huddled in his home like a trapped rat scared of his own shadow and the imaginations of a fire eating its way ever closer.

She had given him another journalling exercise and they had booked another appointment for a few days from now. It would just be over the phone. As he walked, Zayn thought briefly about grabbing a coffee from the local cafe, but he just couldn't deal with people right now. His face couldn't smile right now even if he tried his hardest. So instead, he dug his hands deeper into his pockets and walked on toward home.

The rain had stopped for today, but the weather forecast had warned it would return before the end of the week. The streets were dark and slick with water. The world dripped around him, almost like it too was wrung out, left dismantled and miserable. Even the people Zayn passed didn't look up. The air was biting cold and wet, and no one seemed to want to be out in it.

Zayn was so lost in his own thoughts, he nearly walked straight into someone just outside his apartment building. Muttering an apology, he tried to continue on up the steps, but the man cleared his throat.

'Hey.' Please don't be talking to me...

'Hey, wait a moment. I want to ask you something.' The man stepped out in front of Zayn and blocked his path. 'You live around here, right?'

Damn it.

'You do understand how insanely creepy that question is right? I don't know you,' Zayn said uncomfortably. He looked the man over. He was a little taller than Zayn. There was some bulk to him. He had a sleek haircut, the dark chocolate brown of his hair slicked back to show off a sharp cut jaw and rather heavy bags under the man's eyes. In another life, he had the sort of look that might have drawn Zayn's eye in the pub. He was handsome, even with the perpetual scowl.

The man looked annoyed. 'Look. My name is Wren Harker. I'm a private investigator.'

'Okay,' Zayn said. Honestly, learning this man was a private investigator did not encourage conversation. 'Still uncomfortable,' he added.

The man named Wren Harker closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long breath. As he stood there, Zayn became aware of a large brown and black shape. A large German Shepard was watching him. Zayn watched it watch him. 'That's fair. It has been a long month. Let's try this again. I'm looking for someone and I need your help. She's been missing for nine days now.' The man took out a photo and held it out.

Zayn glanced at it. The girl in the photo was plainly pretty. She had an oval face, kind eyes and the start of smile lines. Brown hair, brown eyes and tanned skin, there was no one feature that made her particularly stand out.

Zayn shook his head, eyes still on the dog. 'I'm sorry. I don't recognise her.'

'You're sure? Her name is Gwen Parish. She used to live around here.' There was a hard, almost accusatory edge to the man's voice.