The Book at the Top of the Closet

Chapter Twenty

I'm following her down an unfamiliar street. I have to zig and zag to avoid running into people, and for a moment, I'm afraid I've lost her. I have to catch up, have to ask her why she left. I need to know that she's okay.

I run up to her, then lose my balance.

I tumble forward, bracing for the impact of stumbling into her. Instead, I pass right through her, as if she were a ghost. She keeps walking, unaware of me. I walk along beside her, watching her for some sign of what her life is like now. She waves at someone in the distance, but before I can see them, I'm pulled away.

We're on a different street now. I'm not walking behind her anymore, in fact, I don't think I'm walking at all. It's like I'm seeing her in a movie, and the angle is all wrong. I still can't get a good look at her face, but I catch a glimpse of her frightened eyes as she looks over her shoulder, spins around, as if expecting someone to sneak up on her. She backs against a wall, sinking until she's sitting on the ground. She rests her head on her knees, hair falling in front of her face like a strange fractured mask.

I try to call out to her, but I can only observe. I see a shadow moving toward her, and my heart thuds in my chest with fear.

#

My own heartbeat wakes me up. A wash of terror engulfs me even as I assure myself it was only a dream.

It felt like something more.

I try to calm down, try to ground myself in reality, but it's no use. The panic rises up to choke me. I run to the lightswitch and turn the lights on then look around for something, anything that might help me calm down. It feels like there's something behind me, something terrible, just waiting for me to let my guard down so it can pounce.

I spin around, and of course, there's nothing there, but I don't feel relief.

There isn't enough air in the room.

There are too many shadows.

And I can't breathe.

I run to the bathroom, too frantic to worry about waking anyone up. The door slams shut, and I wince, hating the way the loud noise fills the quiet around me. One by one, I open up all the cabinets, pull back the shower curtain, check every little space as if something might be hiding there, lying in wait.

Once I've reassured myself that I'm completely alone, I grab a towel that's been left to dry on the curtain rod and lay it down on the shower floor. Scrunching myself into the corner of the shower, I sit huddled on the little towel, trying to make my breaths steadier. Two or three agonizing breaths later, I realize it's too late to calm down. This panic attack is going nuclear.

I lurch for the toilet, yanking the lid up just in time to violently puke up everything in my stomach. Between heaves, I manage to tie my hair up in a ponytail, out of the way of the vomit. After a while, I'm just dry heaving, and I take my shirt off, trying to cool down. I feel feverish, and sweat pools and trickles down my forehead and my upper lip. Finally, I manage to stop gagging and lay down on the cool tile of the floor. It's probably filthy, but I can always wash off later. Right now, I just need to lay still, wait for my body to stop shaking.

#

I wake up hours later, stiff and sore, my teeth chattering from cold. With a groan, I manage to pull myself up off the floor and poke my head out the door to make sure no one is waiting for the bathroom. Seeing that the coast is clear, I move the towel off the shower floor and turn the water on, rubbing my sore neck while I wait for the water to warm up.

The water rushes over me, warming up my limbs and loosening my muscles. I roll my shoulders a few times, grateful for the warmth seeping into me. After a double round of soap to make sure I'm free of bathroom floor germs, I get out, then remember I don't have anything clean to change into. It's still early, so I decide to take the risk of going out in a towel. I grab a towel from the shelf, glad I took a chance and stashed one here. So far no one has stolen it or anything, and now it's coming in handy.