NB: The Girl from Hell (GirlxGirl)

Chapter 3: The Visitor

It’s night.  I’m sitting in my apartment waiting for Jess to come home.  I can hear the washer turning with the load of laundry I put in.  I feel so domestic.  I’ve never really been the homemaker type.  I admire the work Jess does, but a part of me has been resenting her lately for being out in the world while I’m here playing house. 

I try to think of other things.  I’m just bitter because I haven’t been productive today.  I’ve been trying to finish writing the same page since noon.  That little flashing line on the computer is taunting me.

I decide to stand up and walk around the apartment, which inevitably means a walk to the kitchen.  The wooden floor feels cold on my feet.  The apartment isn’t very large.  The kitchen is only a few steps away.  There’s some whipped cream in the fridge.  I suspect Jess got it for some unwholesome purpose.  I spray a little on my finger so I can take a taste.  I know it’s pure sugar and fat, but it’s oddly comforting.  I feel like a kid.  I go to take another taste, but it occurs to me that I haven’t been to the gym today.  I look at the container, think about the calories, and feel a little disgusted with myself.  Damn Jess, I always tell her not to get sweets.

I go back to my chair and my blank page.  I have a meeting with my advisor in two days.  I’m not going to be ready for it.  If only I could merely will the paper to write itself by staring at the computer screen.

There’s a knock at the door.  Thank God.

“One second,” I call out.  I stand up and head to the door.  I need slippers or something for my feet.

I open the door to find a boy standing there.  He must be about sixteen or so.  He looks normal, but there’s something off about him.  I don’t know how to explain it, but I can feel something strange in the pit of my stomach. 

The boy looks like he recognizes me and is somehow surprised.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Anne,” I say.  “Are you sure you–” I was going to ask if he was sure he had the right apartment number, but he interrupts me.

“No,” he says.  “Who are you?” The way he says it, I feel like there should be some deeper meaning, but I don’t know what it is.

“My name is Anne Halton,” I say.  I don’t know what else to tell him.

“Do you know where the Sword is?” he asks.

“What sword?”

“The Sword of God.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I’m scared.  I take a step back and get ready to close the door, but before I can, the boy reaches under his jacket and pulls out a gun.

Being with Jess, I’ve seen guns before.  I’ve seen them fired.  I’ve heard the noise that they make.  I’m paralyzed with fear. 

He points the gun at me.  “Let me in,” he says.  He looks so calm.  There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll shoot me if I disobey. 

I back up into the room.  He follows me inside and closes the door behind him.

“Where is Jessica Paige?” he asks.

“She isn’t home,” I say.  I wish she was.  A part of me is praying that she’ll break through the door, gun in hand and save my life.  Another part is praying she’ll stay safely at a distance. 

“Has she been here today?” he asks.

“No,” I say.  She hasn’t.

“Has anything come for her?”

“Not today.”

He stares into my eyes and I can feel a burning in my head, as if a weight was bearing down on my mind.  It’s hard to think.  “Tell me the truth,” he says.

“She hasn’t been here.”  I say.  “Nothing’s come.”  He looks into my eyes, deciding whether or not to believe me.  Then there is relief.  The pain is gone, but I still feel frozen in place.

“Who are you?” he asks again.

“I don’t know,” I say.  I don’t know what he wants me to say. 

He starts to walk around the apartment.  When he goes into the bedroom, I want to run, but I can’t will myself to move.  I feel odd.  I can feel him.  I don’t understand it, but my mask is starting to crack and my true self is trying to push itself to the surface.  Without seeing him, I know his movements. 

What did he give me?  I ask myself.  I assume he must have drugged me.  This is what drugs are supposed to feel like.  Reality isn’t supposed to be like this.  Then, my mind shifts to a darker place.  What’s he going to do to me?

After circling the apartment, he’s in front of me again.  I’m terrified.

“Someone has found the Sword of God,” he says.  “If we do not stop it, war is inevitable.”

“Who are you?” I manage to ask.

“We are Legion,” he says, “The one that is many, the many that are one.”

He lifts the gun and presses it against my right shoulder.

“It’s time you know yourself,” he says and pulls the trigger.  My brain can barely tell the deafening boom from the overwhelming pain.  My senses are overwhelmed.  My body’s knocked back by the force as my shoulder is torn apart by the bullet.  I crumple to the ground.  The pain in my shoulder is like a million little paper cuts, over and over again, tearing through my body.

During our everyday lives, we imagine ourselves in so many different ways.  We are people with wants and dreams and feelings.  We walk and we talk and we can do so many things.  Sometimes we forget that we’re really just piles of flesh.  We are all fragile and now I am broken, shattered on the ground.