No One's Land

ch/a_p.ter_ei8g/ht

I stand still in the kitchen for about thirty seconds and hear nothing else. Whoever is here with me is either very quiet, or standing still. Then I hear footsteps. They're heavy, but muffled. The sound of boots on carpet. They don't seem particularly careful, either. This person doesn't know I'm here.

I keep my feet planted, but lean towards the counter and pull a knife from the block. I don't know what it's called, but it's bigger than a paring knife and smaller than a butcher's knife. Perfect. I grip it tightly by the handle, holding it in front of my center. I sneak through the kitchen without worrying too much about noise.

If they're not scared, then I'm not either.

I enter into the living room and what I see makes me feel lightheaded. I drop the knife and sway wildly on my feet, vaguely hearing the thud of my pitiful weapon hitting the floor.

I back out of the room and come back in. It's still there. I can't breathe.

I'm still there.

Standing about ten feet away from me, on the other side of the couch, is me. Helen. I'm mumbling to herself. She's mumbling to myself.

The other me doesn't seem attached to reality, just how I feel. She's slightly transparent, seeming to phase in and out of existence with a glitchy, near-staticky effect. I stand in place for another few seconds and then turn and stalk towards... me. The real me, I mean. I see as I turn that my eyes are closed. Not tightly, but as if I were sleeping. I'm still mumbling to myself as I walk past me and enter into the kitchen. I turn in a circle, as if I could see around me, and start towards a drawer in the counter that I didn't even see before. I open the drawer and pull out a roll of bandages and a roll of medical tape. These items are shifting and phasing just as she is. And just as robotically as before, I stalk out of the kitchen past where I stand in shock, and sit down on the couch, pulling up my pants leg and wrapping the bandage around it. I look down at my own (real) leg and think about the bandage that I found on it when I woke.

Am I... am I seeing... I don't know... echoes in time? The thought nearly causes my head to explode. Yet... there's a weird doubling effect in my mind. It's not entirely unpleasant, but I could do without it.

You brought yourself here.

No, I didn't.

Yes you did.

Didn't.

Did.

Didn't.

Did.

I try to refocus on myself.

I'm almost done with the bandage; I can see myself taping it up right now. I stand up without incident and I notice for the first time that I'm not limping. I haven't been limping since I entered the house on myself. Whatever coma or sleep state I'm in must be deep enough to not just dull the pain, but erase it entirely. I turn towards the hallway and walk steadily towards it, still glitching and quicking like an unsteady television channel. I turn towards the bedroom door and it reappears in the same state I appear to be in. As if I've been in this house a million times before, I turn the doorknob without opening my eyes and step into the room, out of view. I quickly snap out of my amazed stupor and quickly skirt down the hallway to the still-open-in-real-life door.

I'm nowhere to be seen.