Hello Darkness

Chapter Four

Shadows cloak the man's face, but I'm positive he's there. His eyes are on me, canvassing my body. An invisible force creeps across my skin, alerting every fine hair to the presence.

How long has he been watching me? He saw me undress. My lungs burn with my attempt to suppress a scream and steady my breathing.

"Move," I whisper to myself. I need to get out of the room, and I can call the police. But he can't know I saw him. Who knows what he would do? Break the window—shit, he might have a gun.

Five steps to the door. Thirteen to the kitchen—that's all. If I can make it there, I can get help. My pulse thunders in my ears.

If I don't move soon, he'll know something is up. By some miracle, my foot moves forward.

One.

Another step. Two.

My body threatens to freeze.

Concentrate on the steps—it's just walking.

Three.

Two more.

Four. Five.

I slam the door shut behind me. No longer caring if he thought I saw him. I bound down the hall in seven steps calling for Alma.

A knock at the door tangles the panic in my chest into a hard ball. It releases when Breccan steps through. He drops his key on the table by the door.

I sigh, before a surge of heat coats my body. My nails bite into my palms as I storm the room. I don't care about the events of the night or the shock in Breccan's eyes when my hand connects with his cheek.

"Charley!" Alma screams, her eyes wide. "What's gotten into you?" She thinks I'm mad, but she didn't see what I did.

"What the hell?" Breccan cups his cheek. "What was that for?"

"What the hell were you doing outside?" I curl my stinging palm into a fist as heat coils through my body.

"Coming inside." He gestures with his hands in front of him, his brows furrowing.

"Stop being stupid. It's not funny," I spit. "You were in the backyard. Outside my room."

Alma steps between us. Clearly, she saw my hand flexing—maybe my knuckles would meet him this time. "What are you talking about? I just saw him pull in the driveway." Her voice is suddenly calm, almost chilling.

"No..." I bring my hand to my lips and bite my shaking fist. I'm not sure which theory I want to believe. "He was just looking in my window," my voice grows quieter with each word.

Breccan's eyes flash from me to the back door, as he pieces together what I'm saying. Nine strides is all it takes him to cross the joint living room and kitchen. He swings open the back door and disappears into the darkness.

"Breccan, wait." I sprint after him until the cool boards of the porch scrape the bottom of my feet. I stop, surveying the yard.

Nothing. The light from the kitchen barely reaches the stairs of the back porch. "Breccan," I call into the blackness. "Breccan. Answer me."

His heavy footsteps crunch in the grass, before his honey eyes reflect in the light. My chest loosens.

"Go back in the house," he says calmly.

Stupid—he's so stupid. As far as we know, this could have been the same psycho that killed that girl, and he recklessly ran after it in the middle of the night. If anything would have happened to him—my heart aches at the thought. Especially because of me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

"We need to call the police—maybe that Silvano guy can come—" I lead Breccan into the kitchen, the door clicking shut behind him.

"You forget. I am the police." He sighs running his hands over his face.

I never forget—I know too well. That doesn't make me like it any more. Why couldn't he have picked a career as an accountant, or heaven knows he can sing? I'd give him an outstanding review. He and Alma are all I have left, after Nana died last year. I can't lose them too.

I step around Breccan, twisting the deadbolt to make sure it's locked. It'll keep the monsters out, Nana always said. I turn towards Breccan and Alma, expecting to get another lecture, but instead their faces are solemn. Alma looks away, her eyelids fluttering, and moves the jar of utensils and block of knives around, like they were out of place.

"What happened?" Breccan plants his hands on his hips, his broad shoulders pull his uniform tight across his chest. That silver badge shoves itself in my face.

I watch Alma hoping she'll look at me. I just want her to hear me—to believe me, just this once. But she doesn't. "I was brushing my hair, and in the mirror, I saw someone outside my window."

One of Breccan's eyebrows lift. "And he looked like me?"

"Well, no. Not exactly." My eyes drop to the tan tile floor. I'm an idiot.

"You seemed pretty sure of it when I came into the house." I swear his cheek is darker where my hand connected.

"I'm sorry." I look down, heat flushing my face, and continue, "I couldn't see his face. Just an outline." I know how it sounds, and I see the hurt in Alma's eyes.

"You couldn't see anything. No facial hair? No clothes? Nothing?" Something in Breccan's tone shifts, it's sharper, more precise. The officer on the call, not my friend.

"No." I look away again. It seems the only thing I'm good at is seeing things that are improbable.

"Let's go look." He puts his hand out, ushering me to lead the way.

I step away from him feeling like a child and lead him to my room. I tighten my arms around my waist, like it would make me smaller with the encroaching walls. The air is heavy and tense, and it seems to bleed from my dark-cherry wood door. Towering and vast, the keeper of my secrets, the only witness to my sanity.

I pause, letting my hand rest on the knob, take one more breath, and open the door.

Breccan shoulders past me. "Show me what you were doing."

I stand in front of the mirror just like before, Breccan surveying the room behind me. He paces from me to the window and peeks out before coming to stand at my side. He waves his hand next to my head and sighs. "You said you were brushing your hair, right?"

I nod.

"I think it was the reflection of your arm moving in the window." He waves his hand again, pointing into the mirror with the other. "See."

My chest tightens and my heart shrinks. Of course, he doesn't believe me. Why would anyone believe the girl that sees monsters? I turn to him and throw my hands up. "Then how did I see a face?"

"You said yourself you couldn't see it clearly. I think it's just been a long night for all of us, and we need to get some rest."

Perhaps, he's right. It's better than thinking he's wrong.