Best Enemies

Rubi

The lights go out and my ears prick up at the sound of footsteps on the dusty floor. My neck tingles and I start to shiver when the feeling of someone watching me comes to be realised. As if someone was creeping through the shadows, trying not to be seen. 

I picture a ghost floating across the unprinted floor and blowing on the necks of the terrified children. I squeeze Peter's wrist and a trickle of sweat slides down my arm, I pull my hand away from Peter. Just as I do this my hand brushes against something, or someone. The substance is warm to the touch and has a thin layer of what I can distinguish as sweat. 

The thing stays there for a moment, then I feel its fingers, narrow and bony as if they had spent hours playing piano, it holds my hand in its own and gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

This seems familiar, like when I was at the beach with Shay. We went out into the rough surf, far away from the flags. The waves were like soldiers, crashing against us again and again. We fought and battled through the rough, sand strewn waves. They churned around out legs and the wind whipped our hair with a crack. Then the biggest wave that I had ever seen loomed on the horizon, other than the others that fizzled out as they reached my ankles, this wave, however, was as strong as a concrete wall and continued to get stronger. Before I realise what's happening my body collapses and my head smacks against the bare sand. The wave's pressure makes my lungs fire up and feels like they are being slowly squeezed and twisted inside my body. 

Through the frustrating bubbles and the persecution of underwater madness, I feel a hand reach towards my crumpled body. It clasps around my wrist and drags me out from the heavy water. Like a breaching whale my body thrashes around in the water and I finally find my footing. I smother Shay in a heavy hug and let my lungs fill with the precious air. The blue sky now seems full of claustrophobic clouds and the sun seems like a mocking insult instead of a calming glow. We trudged up the sand and walk down the polished streets in silence.

As the hand lets go I turn around, there is only a dusty, damp wall with streaks and trickles of water pathways. My feet take steps until I am in the opposite corner of the room. Maybe they will forget about me, maybe I can stay here and they will leave. The whole room is quiet, I stop dead in my tracks. Everyone is facing the rusted iron door which now has a suspiciously soft clinking and clunking as if someone is unlocking a door. 

And then I realise. 

Someone.
Is.
Unlocking.
The.
Door. 

Someone is on the other side of the door and they are coming in.  

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