Pause

2

2

I was walking through a crowd of people. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was doing here.  Steady streams of conversation floated through the air, I only caught snippets here and there: “Come one we’re late…” and “Don’t worry, he’ll call you back…” and “What time is it?”

Then, people started shoving me, shoving each other. I stepped on someone’s foot.

“Hey, watch it!” they snapped.

The sea of bodies started pressing together from all side, making me claustrophobic. The air smelled like a weird mix of sweat and perfume.

“Excuse me,” I started saying, but my voice was lost among all the other ones. The noise escalated to a deafening roar. My ears began to ring.

“Stop!” I said, to no one in particular, only wanting the commotion to cease.

Stop

All at once, the noise stopped, and the bodies stopped moving. No one even breathed. What as the matter with everyone? I began pushing my way through the crowd, looking at everyone’s faces as I passed. They all had the same, frozen, blank expression. There was something wrong with everyone’s faces. Something was off about them, like wax figures: human looking, but fake looking at the same time.

As I continued I came across someone familiar: my mother.

“Mom?” I asked. What was she doing here? She didn’t answer or give any indication that she’d heard me. She only stared straight ahead, like the others, her eyes looked glazed and unfocused.

“She can’t hear you,” replied a hauntingly familiar voice. I knew who it was before I turned to face him. My attacker.. He had the same messy brown hair, the same scruffy beard, the same unlit cigarette hanging from his chapped lips.

I tried backing away but found that the people were pressed so close together no amount of shoving made them move. I whimpered. Not again. Not again.

“It’s just you and me Raven… forever.” He grinned. “Raven.”

***

“Raven!”

I woke with a start. I was covered with a thin layer of sweat and was grasping the scratchy bed sheets tightly. The same dream for what seemed like the millionth time in a row. Never in my life had I had such a nightmare that made me wake up terrified. Honestly, I must have woken up at least ten times during the night from that same dream. I felt utterly exhausted.  It didn’t help that I wasn’t able to fall asleep until three. I sat up in bed, so fast that my head started to spin and my vision went dark as the blood rushed into my brain. As my vision came back into focus I started making out distinguishable objects: the wooden dresser, my desk, my pale blue walls, the chair housing a mountain of unfolded clothing, and the clock that read 7:31 a.m.

“Raven!” My mother’s voice was coming from down the hall. Straining my ears, I heard her approaching footsteps. Finally, her footsteps paused outside my closed door. It opened with a small click and she poked her head in. She was wearing the pink robe I got her for her birthday a few years back, a sleeping mask perched on her head.

“Raven, honey, it’s time for school,” she announced. I blinked. “That is, if you feel up to it. You don’t have to go,” she added, her brows furrowing in concern. This had turned into a routine.

It had been a whole week since the incident and I hadn’t gone to school since. The story had surely spread through the whole school already. It was a small town, news traveled fast. After what happened—rather, what almost happened—I really didn’t feel like doing anything. I felt hollow, broken, as if they had taken a piece of my soul or something. Every waking minute I felt a strange panicky feeling: my palms were always clammy, my heartbeat slightly too fast, I felt like I was being watched or that any moment they would find me and come back to finish what they started. It was the same feeling I got after watching a horror movie and was lying in bed: nervous, scared, waiting for something to come and kill me.