The Death of Me

Prologue

Prologue

            Water ran down my face, over my nose, down my chin, dripping off and landing into the sink in seemingly loud splatters in the silence. Stark lighting illuminated a small circle— the sink, the closed-in walls, and me. The far corners and shower curtains were black, and I felt uneasy, like someone was behind them waiting for the opportune moment to pop out.

            I often checked behind the curtain when I first entered the bathroom, or sometimes, just left it open. But when I would come back, it would be closed again.

            I shivered in my thin, silk bathrobe, and shivered again as I brought my dripping hands to the hand towel hung up by the door.

            Thump.

            I froze, the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach growing. I glanced toward the shadowy corner of the bathroom and stared intently at the curtain for a moment. I waited. For another noise? For someone to come and reassure me? For a knock at the door? For the curtain to swish open and—?

            My thoughts were cut off as I heard footsteps outside the door. I lunged forward towards the door until I was bathed in complete darkness, out of the cover of the circle of harsh light. As if stepping out of the dry and into rain, I could feel the atmosphere change around me.

            I leaned my head towards the door, listening for more. The footsteps were light and smooth and stealthy; not like anyone that was currently in the house. Gabby’s footsteps were bouncy and made of clumpy noises; Dad’s were loud and scuffling; Mom’s were shuffled. I thought of Jay briefly. Did he come by to see me, to see Gabby? I couldn’t remember what his footsteps were like. Suddenly it was so important to remember, and the more I strained, the more I realized that I didn’t know.

            I slowly unlocked the door, the dead silence around me unsettling me, but I kept mentally reassuring myself that nothing was wrong. It was probably just Gabby, maybe even the cat, and I was seriously overanalyzing things. Gabby was always complaining about how paranoid I was, and that’s why she always closed the shower curtain after I firmly and purposefully left it open. The lock clicked softly.

            I opened the dark wooden door, and even though I tried desperately to relax my nerves, I almost jumped out of my skin when the door made a deafening creaking noise. I flinched, my breathing quickened, and on a whim, I glanced back at the shower curtain.

            Nothing.

            I slipped out, making lots of unnecessary noises. My breathing was labored as my throat constricted, my footsteps shaky as I stepped on a loose floorboard, my movements unsure and jostled as my elbow rammed into the corner of the door and I bit my lip to keep from yelping out in pain. My eyes watered and my breath caught, but I stood for a moment in the black stillness, and waited for the pain to subside.

            Thump.

            I walked down the hallway, my hands shaking so badly that I held them tightly together to stop them. I reached Mom and Dad’s room, peeked around the corner.

            I sighed with relief as I saw the T.V. was on, Jay Leno taking up the screen. Laughter erupted in the room after he cracked a joke. My eyes had landed on my mother, sitting up in bed. Her head was slightly lolled to the side, her eyes closed in sleep.

            I wondered momentarily where my dad was. He would usually be in bed by this time…?

            Mom’s body began to slide, and I almost laughed at the sight. Her position against the headboard wasn’t quite secure, and her legs bent as her back slumped sideways until her head finally landed against the pillow. I giggled lightly, suddenly reassured. I had been so scared… and from what? A thump I probably imagined? Gabby was right, I get too paranoid for no reason sometimes.