Echo

Chapter Four

It rained.

The overcast weather lingered a bad omen over London, and me, for the past week. You’d think I’d heed this as a warning, but my mind was too occupied with Tim, him, Tim, him.

Damn it Rayne.

Sighing, I looked away from the downpour outside and trampled over the gallons of clothes scattered over the floor, the wooden boards creaking with my slight weight as I jumped to and fro, over the jeans, the socks and-

“Ah-crap.” I hissed as I tried scrambling for balance, my foot catching in the sleeve of my favourite blue shirt, the slight sound of tearing lingering as I landed with a heavy oomph. Ouch. His laughter echoed in my mind. I bet he’s watching me, just like all of last week.

He hadn’t left me alone, he was there everyday at school acting as Mr Willis, mypoor unsuspecting classmates didn’t know he wasn’t real, the guy they were seeing was dead, gone, probably buried somewhere in the ground thirty feet deep. I saw him though, his sharp face was always there, slyly looking at me, grinning and sneering when students weren’t fighting for his attention, he was a snake, hissing at me when I got something wrong or when my mind began too wander, it was almost like he wanted my attention.

Like he wanted me to look directly into those deep ocean eyes.

You’re an idiot Rayne.

“Are you okay?” My mother screamed from somewhere downstairs, most probably the study, or as she likes to call it, the art room. I smiled, it was the one place I could go and just escape, painting, sculpting, the room was littered with random works and clay stains on the floor.

“Yeah,” I replied, cupping my hands around my mouth to amplify the sound, trying to cover the groans as I limply pushed myself up on my knees, “Dear God.” I breathed as I finally planted my feet safely on the ground, the shooting pains in back gradually disappearing as I stretched, slightly more.

A strangled cry left my lips; definitely don’t stretch that far, nope, never again.

Bending over to look at the damage of my blue shirt, I lent my hand on my back to help with the pain, sighing, yes that is definitely ripped. Frowning, as I stood back up- ouch, ouch, wow I feel like and old woman.

You look like one, his humoured voice rang out in my mind, my head snapped up to look around, but my room was empty, bar all of my mess. My room was illuminated with the multi coloured fairy lights that hang over my old fashioned mirror casting a soft glow over my blue bedding and white walls. He was nowhere to be seen.

I’m here; his breath washed over me, sending a shiver of anticipation trembling down my spine, the hairs on my neck standing up. I span around quickly but only caught the light ring of the wind chimes by my window as they lightly rocked side to side.

He is in my room.

The slight shifting in the corner of my eye had me swinging around, dropping the ruined shirt from my hands, and seeing him slither out of the darkness. His blue orbs the first part of him I saw as he emerged from the corner by the head of my bed. I hope he doesn’t watch me sleep.

He snorted.

Prick.

“Please,” He sneered, “like I’d watch you sleep, I mean you aren’t that nice to look at and this frilly thing,” He chuckled, picking up one of my pillows and launching it at me, “is ugly.” Ducking quickly I managed to feel the soft material brush past my head, catching strands of hair on it’s way past.

Dick.

“Why yes, I do have one of those and you are most welcome to see it.” His laughter increasing as I willed the blush not to erupt, failing miserably. “And touch it.” He coughed out. Screeching I ran to the pillow and hurled it at him, smacking him solidly in the chest.