Exhale

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

I bolted up and gasped for air in the middle of the night. My hand flew to my throat as I searched for any indent of a handprint that was left behind from earlier.

My mind was racing; I could hardly think, let alone believe what had just happened a little while ago. Was any of it real? I took in my surroundings. I was in the bed I claimed, under the covers. Panting, I looked around the room. My mother was softly snoring in the other bed, and on the nightstand between us sat my apple and a packet of oatmeal. My stomach made a sound as my eyes swept over them. Mom must have thought I fell asleep on my own when she got back. For someone only getting a few things down stairs, she sure did take a while to get back.

I took a deep breath before I lifted my covers and swung my legs over the edge. I was still in my underwear. My pajamas were folded neatly on top of my suitcase, and my toiletries bag sat right next to it. I leaned across my bed and snatched up my apple, giving into my complaining stomach. As quiet as possible, I bit into it and chewed softly, trying to focus on not freaking out. I glanced over to my suitcase and leaned over it to rummage through the pocket where my charger should have been, then realized I didn't even know where my phone disappeared to. Whipping my head around, I searched the room. It was on my charger,-which was supposedly tucked away in my case - where it was plugged into the wall, on the opposite side of my bed. I gazed at it, confused. I had not done that earlier. Maybe Mom did it for me. But usually she doesn't go through my things, especially to find a charger. She was always very anti-technology when I was growing up.

After I finished my apple, I tossed the core into the trash and went to get out my tooth paste and tooth brush. As I headed over to the vanity, I gazed at myself in the mirror. There, on my neck was a big, red hand print. I stared at it, feeling my lips beginning to quiver. My heart crunched loudly against my ribs. I wanted to cry out. I traced the red print with my fingers as tears began to slide down my cheeks. I hadn't realized that I was shaking until I found myself needing to lean onto the counter for support. I glanced into the mirror again before I saw the young man from the gas station, staring at me from behind. My heavy breathing hitched in my throat as I gaped at him, completely lost at what was going on.

His finger flew to his lips, as if he was telling me to stay quiet. I whipped my head around to look behind me. But nobody was there. I looked into the mirror again, and yet, there he was. I felt my eyes go wide. No, this cannot be. How was this real? How was this possible? As I stared, he smiled. But it wasn't a friendly smile. There was an edge to it. A hard edge. I swallowed and closed my eyes for a moment. I was hallucinating. That had to be it. There was no way he was actually here.

I opened my eyes again, and looked into the mirror. He was gone.

So was the handprint.

I quickly brushed my teeth and pulled on my pajamas before shutting off the lights and sliding under the covers again. I pulled the sheets over my head, wanting everything to be just a bad dream.

My eight-thirty am alarm began to go off by my side.

I moaned and rolled to my left, searching for my phone that was supposedly sitting on top of the night stand. As I went to grab it, I felt nothing but the wooden table underneath my skin. I looked, only to realize that it wasn't there. What the... Alert sprang up on me. Where was it? I sat up straight, before glancing around. There, at the windowsill, sat my phone. I narrowed my eyes in confusion, before getting up and trudging over to where my phone magically appeared, the longing of sleep making itself known to me. Then the memory of last night came back. The young man, the hand print on my throat, the panic when I saw the stranger from the gas station in the mirror, only, he wasn't really there. Was he?