Soulmates

Chapter 2

Sometimes, the things you encounter make you question reality, whether or not you're even awake right now. I wondered if there was some glitch in this room, like the wrong time on the clock or six fingers on my hand that could cause me to jolt from my sleep like those nightmares.

I considered that I was home alone and I probably wrote it myself and I forgot about it because there's no way someone else could write in my diary. Unless they were hiding in my room. Right now. As I spoke. 

My hands and feet became alive. Shaking feverishly. My heartbeat quickened as I scanned the room for something. Someone. It dawned on me that someone might be squatting in my house while I was home alone. I had written in my diary but I hadn't expected my Dear Diary to reply!

I decided to leave immediately, this action involved traversing the dark corridor that led to my room as long as the Red Sea. The wallpaper seemed to be morphing into dark, gnarly figures with eyes and mouths and the paintings turned grotesque under the drug of fear. I felt the hairs on my neck rise. Should I call the police, or at least call Noah or Sandra?

The page I held in my hand was softened to a pulp. I fumbled with the phone to call Noah and ask him when he was coming home. 

"Why are you asking this, baby?" said Noah in his low, crackling voice. 

"I just wanted to know." I was unsure whether or not I should mention what just happened. "I don't feel safe right now."

"Why not? Is something wrong?"

"I'm scared."

Noah paused letting a few seconds of phone static run. "Sorry, honey, I'm in the middle of a conference meeting right now. Be careful, stay safe, bye."

The finality of those last three beeps felt like three punches in the face. I sat, with slumped shoulders, absorbing the impact. I sighed. I understood that I could not expect Noah Jackson to immediately leave his work and drive home for me, a girl he had no blood relations with. He wasn't my father. I was grown enough to be home alone, wasn't I? And I still felt that grisly feeling...that someone was watching me. 

My mind was racing. I wanted to turn the TV on, but if I did that I wouldn't be able to listen for sounds. I could not put that diary entry behind me. I had a 50, no, 80 percent chance of not being the alone in the house. 

Should I go on a walk? I thought. The furthest I could get from here, the better. 

Out the door I was. The pointed arched double doors slammed behind me. I walked the winding stone pathway down to the main road. The front yard was large, maybe the size of three classrooms. I lived a lavish lifestyle, but at what cost? Losing my parents and dealing with a creep who had too many hiding places to choose from in that old manor. I couldn't have my cake and eat it too.

My parents and I lived in a two bedroom apartment. The couch was rammed against my door and I had to squeeze in between the gap to get out and brush my teeth. I had the luxury of sleeping on a king-single mattress on the floor. Not that my parents were poor, but they didn't care about money. I understand. Money no longer mattered when there's a whole person sitting in your room watching your every move. I may have been living a shabby lifestyle, but I had never been scared. 

I remembered the times when we had cold mac and cheese for dinner. If I had mac and cheese now I would start crying my eyes out. There are some things you appreciate only once its gone. This is one of them. 

Its something you expect to happen when you turn fifty not when you're fourteen. I thought I loved my parents a lot, but clearly I didn't love them enough because you could not squeeze fifty years of love into fourteen.