Unwelcome Stranger: The Thriller Saga

Chapter 6

        Riley’s face inched closer, his breathtaking greenish-blue eyes shining with glee. My own closed in anticipation as I leaned in myself. The instant his lips met mine, all reality evaporated. The world around me blurred until it was only a void. All that existed was we --- nothing else. I could have wallowed in the simplicity ceaselessly, but, too soon, we both pulled away. However, when I opened my eyes, it wasn’t Riley staring me down.

Those golden eyes were fastened with mine --- stabbing right into my heart with a look of want mingled with distress, evil lurking behind them. This Everett was harmless. This was my Everett.

        Yet I still froze. My muscles were inaccessible. No matter how much I pushed, nothing would move. He leaned closer --- slowly, ever so slowly.

        “You’re safe. I’m right here. You’re finally safe.”

        I jumped up, Everett’s whispered words still echoing from my memory-gone-haywire. My mind was playing tricks on me. I stared down at my cereal, suddenly losing my appetite; I was still on edge. The spoiled memory still felt real --- it was real enough. I couldn’t possibly go to school with this paranoia. My 3-foot jump at the sound of the grandfather clock going off confirmed this. I held my head in my hands and shuffled out from the table, grabbing the cordless phone as I marched out. Taking the stairs two by two --- and almost tripping --- I dialed as I mounted the stairs. I anxiously shoved the phone to my ear when I reached the top and ran into my room, slamming the door shut. After about five rings, someone finally answered.

        “Hello. You have reached Seattle’s Alyn Peak Hospital. Alexis Greene speaking.” declared the speaker quite wearily, but trying to sound official.

        I cleared my throat and began to speak professionally. “May I please converse with Dana Willows?” but I couldn’t keep the grin from my voice.

        She cleared her throat as well and spoke even more expertly. “Please hold Miss Willows,” I waited for a few moments with muffled sounds that told me Alexis had put the phone against her shirt again. Subdued shouting and shouting back was all I heard for at least a minute. Finally, my mom’s voice overpowered Alexis’s and I knew she had the phone now.

“Hey sweetie.” my mom addressed me with a hint of anxiety in her tone. “Are you okay? Shouldn’t you be at school, or at least about to leave?” Suspicion couldn’t help but creep up into her voice, but worry overpowered it. When I hesitated, she drew a hefty breath to ask once more.

“Mom. Mom, I’m fine, just ---“ I drew in a sustained breath myself. “One of my memories came back to me. But….” I slumped down on my bed stiffly. “It went haywire. It was like a nightmare, but in a memory. One of those foreboding things, you know?” I explained quickly, on the verge of babbling. I was going hysteric! “And it’s sticking with me. The paranoia’s too much. I can’t go to school like this. No way. Not this jittery. Because I won’t even pay attention --- so what’s the point of even going, you know?” Great, now I am babbling. I started to shake uncontrollably, so I lay down on the bed to try to suppress it to some extent.

        “Oh, honey, are you okay?” Compassion immediately sprung up out of the worry.

        “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. I just can’t be around people. I---“

        “Do you need me to come home? I can come right away. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll be there in the next---“

        I interrupted her neurotic prattle just in time. “No. No, Mom. I-I’m probably better off being alone. I just need to calm down. I might go to school later, but not now. Not now.” I explained a bit restlessly.

        Instantaneously, the suspicion emerged with force. I mean, I couldn’t expect it not to. This even sounded crazy and fake to me. Any mother will suspect foul play when her child doesn’t want her at home for a reason they won’t explain. For me, the reason was simply that I didn’t want anyone around. I was better off alone. I always had been.

        “Are you sure you’re not just trying to skip school?” There was a pause, and then she cleared her throat. “Oh, I don’t know why I’m asking you. Like any teenager would tell the truth!” She sighed.

        “Mom! You know me. I don’t skip school. I just avoid people. Skipping school isn’t an option, nor does it interest me.” I could understand how she would think that though. Even I would suspect me. I mean, this does seem fishy.

        “Yes. I guess your right. I won’t apologize though. I’ll be checking up on you!”

        “I understand, Mom.” I stated simply.

        “Good. And don’t you dare turn the phone off. I have ways, my darling.” There was a hint of humor entwined with each syllable. “I love you, sweetie.”

        “Love you too.” With that, we both hung up.

        I sighed and tossed the phone on the bed. Clasping my hands behind my head, I lounged back comfortably and undertook to settle myself, staring up at the ceiling as I had that first night.

        How things had changed since that time! Even though some things were the same --- like how I couldn’t stop thinking of Everett and like the fact that he was still my same angel ---, almost everything was different. I was alone then, now I had Riley --- and possibly Mitchell. I was Everett’s slave then, and now I was his ultimate enemy and prey. I admired Everett so much then, and now I only looked on him with disgust. I had imagined him perfect, and now that image was disfigured with a grotesque shadow of hatred and fear. Back then, I had felt Everett was the one thing holding me together, and now Riley was my reality and Mitchell recognized me. Every impression I had of him then was shriveling in the flames of distrust, fed by my waxing horror at his other half. I wanted my Everett back! The Everett that I had believed was true was still there --- somewhere, somehow, no matter how deep.

        Yes, conditions had changed, but about this last thing, I was completely sure. I glanced around, but recognized nothing. My life had become so surreal now --- as if I was in a dream. Days moved so fast now. Months seemed like weeks --- weeks, like days themselves. I could only imagine how years would feel moving at this rate. I no longer claimed this as my life. I was someone’s trick, a fantasy, an eye’s myth. Now, finally, at just the right time it seemed, I perceived that my life had been changed --- irrevocably changed. There was no going back. My fate had betrayed me and flagrantly steered me in this direction. Curse my straightforward and pliable emotions! This Everett Caine had torn them to pieces! Why had I been so innocent, so naive, when things had turned out as ironically as they did! I couldn’t imagine where I’d gone wrong. Distrust had been planted in me the moment I’d seen those eyes change, yet I’d stayed. I stayed unperturbed in danger’s way!

I threw myself back on the bed again in a fury, covering my face with my pillow.

        Minutes passed. I counted them one by one until my heartbeat started mellowing --- softening as my anger withdrew its large flames from my mind. I could think clearly now, which might not exactly be good.

        Think of the good things --- the bright side. Well, even though my life had changed for the worse by Everett, it had also changed for the better by Mitchell and especially Riley. My memories of Riley’s face instantly buried me, suffocating me with glee. Oh, I already missed him! I turned over in my bed and attempted to relax. I needed to clear my mind, because apparently anything I thought of turned awful eventually. Curse my pessimistic view!

        My mind had just started to wade into the ebbing waves of a dream, when my cellphone sounded off piercingly. I sat up sluggishly and groaned, figuring I’d just ignore it, and lay back in bed I barely thought about the phone --- and barely heard it since I was half-asleep --- but somehow I felt like I should check it. The noise stopped, yet the feeling was still there. Try as I might to repel it, something was drawing me towards my cellphone. I sat up begrudgingly and leaned over slightly to inspect the screen, rubbing my eyes to ward off my weariness. Picking it up, I noticed the screen was lit up with “1 NEW MESSAGE” in bold black letters contrasting the white background. I anxiously opened it only to find the text was from . . . no one. The space that would usually be filled with the sender was empty --- completely. I pushed “ok” and my eyes begrudgingly wandered down to skim the message to get any idea of whom the author might be.

Sorry for yesterday. My phone cut off. Now, you’re probably wondering why you can’t find out where this text came from. Well, to put it frankly, I don’t want you to get a hold of me. Why? It’s another one of those “forbidden” things I told you about. I’m still watching out for you, Rosette. I want you to know that. I’m protecting you no matter what --- no matter what you say, what you think of me, or what you do. This probably doesn’t mean much to you now, but it will count in the long run. I wish I could say all this to you over the phone, but . . . circumstances . . . prevent me from communicating otherwise --- at least to you. I just want you to know that you’re safe.

It didn’t need an author for me to know its source. I slowly --- almost painfully --- leaned back, stunned, on my bed. Even through the phone, he stuns me!

“Safe”? I was only safe when he wasn’t around! Why was he even texting me if he didn’t want me to get a hold of him? I scrutinized the message once more, hit “reply”, and began bombarding him with these questions.

Soon after I sent it, my phone went off again. “Wow. He’s fast!” I gasped, fingering my cellphone reluctantly. I realized just how fast when I read the lit-up phrase “3 NEW MESSAGES.” For a moment, I debated whether I should open it or just walk away. My mind pulled me farther from it, while my emotions seemed to pull it closer to me. Didn’t I hate him? Then why should I care what he said? His whispered words in my twisted memory imbedded themselves in my brain.

“You’re safe now. I’m right here. You’re finally safe.”

Finally, I flipped my phone open and pushed “ok” so hard that it was a wonder it didn’t break beneath my grasp. My mind was screaming at me while my heart raced faster and faster until every sound was smothered by its echo. However, that was before I read the text.

Rosette, you just don’t get it do you? I’m protecting you! Why is it so hard for you to appreciate that? It seems like you only trample on everything I do for you. You would be dead without me! I’m not asking for the world, here. I’m only asking you to realize just how important I am to your life right now. And, no, I’m not being arrogant. I would only love to see you value me for once, but I guess none of this matters to you. Well, on to other subjects then. The reason I am talking to you, is that I can see that you’re scared, and it’s of me. I wanted you to start trusting me --- but I can see that’s not going to happen until I can prove myself to you. I know I ruined that whole thing when I left and when I revealed myself, but just because I’m a little different doesn’t mean I’m going to kill you. I couldn’t hurt you, Rosette. As for where I am and why I’m gone for so long . . . guess what? It’s “forbidden.” Sorry. At first I left because I was afraid I *would* hurt you. I turned out to be wrong, so I came back. Then I attacked you, so I ran away again --- but I couldn’t stay away. So, every now and then, I would stop in. I kept finding excuses to see you --- to make sure you were okay. I even nearly compromised my secret to see you. I feel the need to protect you, just because I’m not the worst thing out there and I’m pretty sure one of them is after you. Yet, you’re still scared of me --- even when I slip up for just a few seconds. I just want to let you know that I would never hurt you --- that I’m not going to hurt you --- and, as I said, I could never hurt you. As for how you’re safe, I still have a reliable amount of “guards” for you, including myself on a few occasions. I’ll be back soon, and I’ll make sure to stop by. Remember why you’re safe, Rosette.

That was all it said. That was it. I kept pressing the down button nevertheless, searching for some continuation. When none was found, I threw the phone aside in a frantic blind fury. To my dismay, I tossed it at the exact angle to land on the only fabric-layered part of my vanity. I grunted in irritation and turned over in my bed again. His words kept replaying in my head --- the whispered ones and from the text --- the most prominent ones being “I’m not the worst thing out there . . .” I picked up my pillow and hurled it at the phone with a scream, and then buried my head in the sheets. My raw emotions soon faded, as they were shallow.

I hadn’t felt deep, true emotions for a long while now.

My phone went off again, but I recognized the sound as the one I had programmed for my mom. Sighing in relief, I calmly rose from the bed and opened the phone only to find a text asking me --- neurotically, of course --- if I was okay. I speedily texted back the slight lie that I was doing better but still not fine. Sure, I looked calm and collected and was acting that way now, but I definitely was not doing better. Maybe my paranoia is causing these breakdowns. I snapped my phone shut and shook my head, amused, before setting it back in the same spot. Nevertheless, when I lifted my head, my eyes locked on the scene outside my window.

        Gold.

It was everywhere --- that color, donning my backyard. All outside was bathed in its eerie glow. I had no idea at that point whether my paranoia was catching on to me or the trees were filtering the sun’s glad rays in that way, but either way I slowly marched towards the window, my hands clenching so hard into fists that I could feel small drops of blood begin trickling down them.

Suddenly every memory of Everett’s eyes came back to me, trampling me in their lunatic stampede. I fell to my knees, writhing in agony, with nothing but the memories before my eyes. This was my Everett. This was kind Everett. Nice Everett. An Everett that would never hurt me --- could never hurt me. The other half of the predator, he was --- the half I wanted back. I pounded my face with my hands, not caring about the blood, only begging him to stop torturing me. The tears washed the blood from my hands but also partly absorbed it into my eyelids --- which bathed the memories in a crimson foreground. It seemed nothing near coincidental, for the memories deserved their scarlet mark. Now the golden eyes seemed more menacing, merciless, more undeserving of my compassion --- just as it should be. It felt natural for his silhouette to bear its scarlet glow --- all predators deserved the blood upon them. Somehow, some way, I heaved myself up enough to grab the phone, smearing it with wet crimson palms. I could see through enough to type these simple words that held so much meaning:

You are dead to me, Everett Caine.

        Life dragged on after that, as what usually happens following a life-changing moment. The day was colored in a gloomy gray, instead of the vivid portrait it usually was. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, but then the whole world had fallen over me. It seemed ironic that after letting the truth escape, life lost its meaning to me. It was as if my Everett was not alive, then I was not alive --- even though I knew that was utterly false. Now that I had revealed the truth, all drama, vivacity, and even interest had faded from me. Not even a few calls from Riley lifted me from the deep fog I found myself in. My phone was never graced by his texts for the rest of the day --- the week, even --- and I jumped every time the phone went off, only to find it was my mom or Riley.

        The next day, I told my mom I was fine to go to school --- another lie. However, I didn’t want to be alone this time. Today was one of those days where the cold hung in the air and chilled you to your bones. The cold was comforting, for that’s how everything felt to me now --- cold and unfamiliar. A light mist of rain was just starting to make it’s way down to the ground as I looked up to the sky for some speck of hope --- some glimmer of bliss.

As I sauntered glumly into the classroom, Mitchell started up in his seat and quickly shooed away his friends to make a spot for me. As he rambled on about how he’d missed me yesterday, I slowly took my seat, confused by my surreal surroundings --- but never letting them touch me. I was unattainable. I didn’t exist. Mitchell hand rested slightly on my shoulder, which snapped me out of my daze. “Are you okay?” he inquired anxiously when I looked him in the eyes, startled. “Is this why you were gone yesterday?” He seemed seriously concerned, but I just couldn’t think of his questions as genuine for some reason. Must be the dreamlike feeling . . . I couldn’t resist him, not right now when we were just getting on track.

        I bit my lip and turned away. “Sort of.” I hardly even muttered. It was a wonder if he heard me. I glanced back at him again, but he was turned at an angle with an expression that looked like perplexity. I turned away again, now biting the edge of my fingernail instead of my lip. When I looked back, he was staring at me. “Mitchell, I---“ I started to stutter, but then, sighing and seizing his arm, I demanded, “Here, just come with me.” and pulled him out of the room into the hall. Bombarding me with questions, he tripped along behind me until we reached the outside doors. I gazed back at him hesitantly before pushing my way through them, holding them open for him. Immediately, the cold splashed my face with that icy embrace and I noticed the mist had stopped. I swiftly turned to face him. “Okay,” I sighed. “Mitchell, have you ever felt that someone’s watching you?” I whipped my head around suspiciously just to make my point.

        “Well, sure, all the time.” he replied ineffectively. “Oh, and if we’re skipping school, then follow me.” He began to walk away. I quickly ran after him, which I believe is exactly what he wanted --- at least that’s what his grin said when I caught up.

        “No, no. We’re not skipping school. I wanted to confess to you. You did want to know why I wasn’t at school, right?”

        “Yes. And you can tell me on the way to the carnival. Did you know they’re in town?” Not giving me a chance to answer, he quickly held up his hand. “Be back in a minute.” With that, he took off towards the school building.

        “Mitchell!” I yelled after him. Taking a few steps forward I called again, irritated. He only held his finger to his lips before disappearing behind the wall. I rolled my eyes, huffing irately, and crossed my arms while I waited for his return. About a minute later, he appeared again with both our backpacks on his shoulders. An infectious grin permanently lit up his face as he swaggered towards me. “You do this too often, don’t you?” I took my backpack without a fuss and calmly trailed after him. In the middle of the trek to his jeep, I spun back around to make my way towards the school. He instantaneously cut me off and backed me towards his jeep.

        “Do you honestly want to go back?” His question clearly required no answer by the bittersweet look to his face. “Look, you need a good time, and you’re certainly not going to find it in there.” he declared, pointing reproachfully at the school grounds. “Now, let’s have some fun!” He pushed past me, snatching my hand in the process.

        “And how do you know I need a good time? Maybe---maybe I just need the boring surroundings of school to jar me out of it.” However, my weak excuses were no match for him, and, soon enough, I was in his jeep heading to the fun I honestly needed.

        The ride there was a quiet one filled with Mitchell’s glances at me, and my frequent glares in his general direction. Of course, he ignored the latter. When he finally parked near the carnival, he turned off the car and leaned back, keeping his gaze fixed on me this time. After a few seconds, an impatient sigh wafted through the air. “Rosette, you can stop pouting now. I’m not fooled in the least by your act. Trust me --- you need this. You have been so . . . out of it lately. You need some fun. I know you do, Ro. So . . .” He shifted in his seat and unlocked the door. “Let’s go have some.” The slam of the door made me jump and I spared my “sulking” act for a quick glance.

        “But, Mitch---“ I grunted angrily and slumped farther down in my seat. “I’m not coming out.” I declared in an irritated singsong voice. Suddenly Mitchell was at my window.

        “Yes, you are.” he demanded and swiftly swiped my door open, sending me flying out of the car. Luckily, his arms were there to catch me. He held me there for a few seconds, us each staring into the other’s eyes. I noticed a gleam in his that hadn’t surfaced in awhile. Their green seemed more vivid --- more extraordinary than I had ever seen them. Apparently, I was finally seeing him happy, a feeling that had been reserved between the two of us. Our eyes were locked together, drawn to the other’s by some insatiable spell. Eventually, I snapped out of it and stood up, rubbing my arms and laughing nervously. Mitchell stepped back and stared down at the dirt for a while. Finally I slammed the car door closed and resumed my former state.

        “Ok, you got me out of the car. Doesn’t mean I’m going with you.” I declared sassily, crossing my arms with a smirk.

        “I have ways around that.” He began walking away without another word or even a glance. I pondered this until he turned around to face me and continued walking, backwards this time. “Trust me, you’ll follow.” Then, he turned around and jogged towards the destination of so-called amusement. I leaned against the car stubbornly.

        “Fine then. I’ll just stay here.” I muttered to myself. I scoffed at his stupidity, and then an idea popped into my head. He hadn’t even locked the car! Ha! I could just get in and start it! I swiftly threw open the passenger-side door and slid all the way into the driver’s seat. Fingering the wheel ominously, a wicked grin swept across my features. Finally, I had my hands on a vehicle again. It felt so good! I turned the key in the ignition and the jeep rumbled under me. The engine revved as I pressed the gas down firmly, my grin growing. I threw the car into reverse and ferociously swept out of the parking spot. Switching it back to drive, I sped forward and peeled out onto the street. As I sped down the highway, all thoughts of Mitchell and the carnival seemed to speed through my mind as well. He had been so stupid to leave his car with me! I could get to school, back to my boring surroundings, and forget him and his ways to jar me from this life. I needed none of his “therapy”! I pressed the gas pedal harder, hoping there were no police around. I’m really having these breakdowns a lot, aren’t I? I inquired of myself. I only pressed the gas harder as a response. It must have been the fact that I was whacked-out on NyQuil. I had been taking it for the past week to get to sleep when memories of him came around. 

Fortunately, the ride was smooth and clear with no red lights or police officers. My mind wandered back to yesterday. Why? Why had I said it? That whole truth, the secret never divulged, was keeping me alive! How could I let that one essential, life-sustaining fact slip through my fingers, as would grains of sand?

I beat my hand against the wheel in agony and sped around an innocent car.

Maybe it had been because he’d dazzled me. Any common sense of mine would have sounded the alarm if it had been in use. Yet, here I was now --- a futile existence, it seemed, after Truth had escaped.

Fate is an ironic being --- full of insensate humor and hatred. She involves our lives in her cruel humor, twisting paths together then shredding them at the seams. Her companion of entertainment is Misfortune, whom she easily convinces to enter into the lives of the routine, the ordinary, and the lucky --- causing them to grovel in anguish at her feet. She makes the unexpected appear obvious and the explicit inscrutable, for when her fun is over she tosses them in her victims’ faces --- expecting immediate acceptance. Of course, when tossed in my face, I would never accept it. Yet, hadn’t I already?

I slammed on my brakes and pulled over, almost smashing the hazard lights button into oblivion. Leaning back in my seat, I stared at the ceiling, on which I imagined was his face. Would he haunt me forever? Would his dark silhouette be carved into my mind until his hunt was finally consummated? I had to get him out of my head. I had to get to school. Maybe it would bore him out of my mind. This had to stop!

I shut off the hazard lights and veered onto the road again. The school was only minutes away. I would get there, I would pay attention, and I would erase all memories of him. Life would go back to normal until he eventually killed me. His existence would be void until I was murdered in his arms. He was surreal. He was . . . gone.

From nowhere, a peace flooded through me I hadn’t achieved before. I had, it would seem, persuaded myself of his unreality --- which, in turn, restored things to the way they were. I was Rosette again. I was oblivious, for now at least.

 A few minutes later, the school appeared in view. I hurried somewhat, the joy of triumph overcoming me. It was straight ahead. It was in my grasp. I knew this serenity would soon escape me, but, with any luck, I would be in the imprisoning walls of that building when it evaporated. I accelerated even still, the pressure escalating. I was here. I was here! Finally, I had a cushion, a buffer of sorts, for my ever-mounting elusiveness and terror. The jeep hopped up and down over the jarring entry to my one hope and prison. I would get out of the jeep and head towards my relief with my backpack slung--- My backpack.

My foot lifted off the pedal abruptly and I veered madly to the side. Mitchell. His backpack was in the back too. I threw my hands up in frustration. Things were never easy, were they? Closing my eyes, I leaned back in my seat. At last, things between Mitchell and I looked bright ahead, and what had I done? I had deserted him with no transportation at the fun he knew --- and I as well --- would help me.

I opened my eyes and chided myself under my breath, running my hands along the wheel again. Why is everything I do always wrong? I knew what I had to do --- but I was so close. I glanced at the school one last time, then wildly whipped the jeep back and around to face the entrance. Taking a deep breath, I whispered, “Ah, well, here we go.” and sped off back to the carnival.

The drive back seemed shorter than the ride there, and, for once, something else occupied my mind than . . . him. It was a hard drive back, but I made it --- and, in the process, I ultimately realized that this was what I needed --- school wouldn’t help. The road was clear --- Fate hade made the way for me. Every car that was on the road stayed far from my vicinity, as if I had a sphere of solitude surrounding me. The jeep was fast enough and got me to my destination in record time. On the other hand, maybe that was my over-eager pedal foot. Either way, the trip was quick, and by the time I pulled back into that dirt parking lot, my nerves were on end. I was so irritated with Mitchell at that point that I almost punched the gas and rammed into his lingering form. Instead, I killed the engine and kicked the unlocked door open, slamming it afterwards in an irate manner. I strolled up to a grinning Mitchell and threw the keys at his face, which he flawlessly caught. Catching up to him, I responded to his smirk with a cross look.

“So, uh, ‘Ro’ huh?”

“C’mon, I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to come up with an irritating nickname for you,” he laughed as we entered the carnival.

After about the seventh time riding the “spinning strawberries”, my voice was only a whisper. Laughing heartily, Mitchell and I ran to the Ferris wheel. The line wasn’t very long, considering what time we were coming here. We strolled up to the end of it, grinning from ear to ear.

Soon enough, we were allowed to get into the cart and we started ascending, when a realization came upon me.

I looked over at him tentatively, trying to glean from his expression if I was forgiven for earlier. I could see no hurt in them, so I looked him full in the face. “Sorry.” I murmured softly in my cracking voice. His head seemed to snap up as if I was awaking him from some reverie.

“What?” He shook his head, confused, apparently to ward off some other train of thought. His olive eyes then lit up in recognition and shock of what I’d said. “Sorry? Sorry about what?” He searched my face for the answer and came up with nothing. The wall was up again. “Whatever it is, you don’t need to be sorry.” Reclining back with his hands behind his head, he scoffed. “It’s probably my fault anyway.” He snickered softly before fastening his gaze back on me. “So, enough about everything else. Let me hear something about you.” He grinned encouragingly and twirled his hand in a gesture for me to start.

“Well . . .” I thought for a few moments. Coming up with nothing, I crossed my legs and reclined as well. “Why don’t you start?” I urged, nodding in his direction.

He gave me a sneer then put his hand to his chin in contemplation and his eyebrow creased in meditation. Then, “giving up”, his face relaxed and his hand fell to his lap. “I’ve got nothing.” he replied simply, casting his hands in the air. The grin spread broadly across his face once again. “Your turn.” he chuckled, his smile gleaming.

I gave him a glare then stared off into the carnival. We had lifted about five feet already, so there wasn’t much of a view yet. I sat back once more and considered what I could say. “Well, I hate approaching people. Um . . . , I don’t open up to someone unless we’re close. And this should be obvious, but, I’m deathly shy.” I gave him a look that said, ‘Happy now?’

“Seriously, I could tell most of that already! So, um,” He leaned towards me, his slow hot breath tickling my face. “I guess that means we’re close if you’re opening up.” His countenance screamed ‘hopeful’.

My body stiffening and my eyes locking with his, I steadied my breathing as not to give myself away. “I-I guess so.” I gasped, hardly audible.

Instantly, his face was brighter, his eyes livelier --- every muscle in his body seemed to brace. I could only imagine what kind of electric shock was searing through his body right now. I could only smile lightly in response as I leisurely and painfully drew back and tore my eyes away from him. As his grin shone, he patted the seat next to him eagerly and quite expectantly. I cautiously moved to seat myself beside him with a prayer he wouldn’t get any ideas. I heard a slight sigh of relief when I was finally seated and not certain if it came from him or me. I stared down at my hands for a long time until he finally spoke.

“Look at that.” he sighed. I met his eyes for an instant, and then drew them away to follow his stare. It was a hazy day, but the haze had withdrawn to form lumpy clouds in the sky. One of the thinner of these was completely covering the sun --- leaving just a single ray, it seemed, to escape through a weak spot. It wasn’t as beautiful as an orange sunset or golden sunrise would have been, but it was still uplifting on a day like this. I vaguely realized that this symbolized Mitchell’s and my renewed friendship as I gazed at him from behind. It had been a depressing haze with no connection whatsoever, and now, --- finally, now --- a simple ray of sunshine was peeking through --- and growing, I might add.

He suddenly turned back to me and grinned, crossing his arms. “So, we never finished talking about you.” he stated triumphantly. I groaned. “Oh, c’mon!” He turned fully towards me and punched my arm playfully. “You’re not that bad. Honestly.” He drew closer. “You’re pretty interesting to me.”

I tried to hide the crimson the dashed across my face at that moment. “Okay, okay.” I submitted, knowing he would keep it up until I divulged. “Um . . . Let’s see. What else?” I muttered to myself, mock pondering with my head propped on my fist.

Mitchell scooted closer. “You could tell me what your favorites are --- color, animal, hobby, time of year. Stuff like that.”

I inched away from him inconspicuously. “Well, my favorite color is probably grey. It’s the color of my eyes.” I clarified.

The ghost of a smirk whisked across his features. “Which, by the way, are beautiful.” he cut in.

“I’m also a mundane color kind of person, if you can’t tell that by this.” I swiped my hand, indicating my apparel.

“You dress nicely. Color isn’t everything.” he interjected once more.

I swore the crimson on my cheeks could get no brighter --- or spread no further. I humbly passed over his complements and continued. “My favorite animal is the panther. Whenever I think that word, stealth and mystery immediately come to mind.” I sighed at the thought.

Mitchell sighed as well. “Rosette: the Panther Girl.” he chuckled. “You’ve definitely got the mystery down. The stealth . . . ah . . ., not so much.”

I snickered along with him. It was true of course. I had to clear my throat before I started again to get him to calm down, but he was already staring off.

“It’s beautiful.” he breathed, only his eyes giving me a direction to follow. I bent over him to see a perfect view of Seattle in all its glory. I sighed myself and subconsciously leaned into him. I could feel him relax in response, but it didn’t register.

“It’s amazing.” You could see almost every house if you looked around --- and most of downtown. I could point out the school, the hospital, and even the general area my house would be. The sun was descending even more, its golden glow contagious. I felt lighter, happier. This was where it was. This was my escape. This was where I belonged. I felt him turn and squirm a bit under me, and then my common sense kicked in. Instantly, I straightened --- I suddenly felt too close to him on the seat, too happy to be spending time with him, too . . . open. My mental wall firmly reclaimed its rightful position as I squished myself as far over on the seat as possible. Mitchell resumed his tense position and not one look of surprise or anger flashed over his face. “I’m sorry.” I whispered, my head drooping low.

He was suddenly at my side, which only made me feel more claustrophobic. “Oh, Rosette! You worry too much! That’s the second time you’ve said that. There’s no need to be sorry. It was uncomfortable for me too. I can’t blame you for freaking. That was weird.” His expression was priceless. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“True.” I muttered. “But the reason I moved, well . . .” I groaned in frustration. “I-I have a hard time opening up to people. I’ve always been like that for some reason. It’s hard for me to be around people. I put up . . . a wall, of sorts. And the mental wall doesn’t usually come down. Yet, with you . . . Ugh! I don’t know.” I turned away from him and stared out at downtown Seattle. Somehow, I couldn’t fight the bliss that had been overwhelming me since I’d renounced his existence. ”I’m opening up to you right now by telling you this.” I tentatively glanced up and a smile broke across both our faces. “I guess you’re different!” I slapped my hands on both my legs and looked around him to see if we had moved any higher.

Immediately the cart started rocking back and forth violently. I was hardly able to stay on my seat. Flying to and fro, I tried to get a good grip on my seat and glanced around frantically for the source of this chaos. When I focused back on Mitchell, I found his was the culprit and pushed him to the other side, yelling “Quit!” He pushed me back and, soon enough, we were making a ruckus. Of course, the ride manager yelled for us to stop and we were eventually kicked off, but it was worth it. We were still pushing each other while we were strolling to the midway games.

As we reached the Balloon Dart stand, Mitchell pulled out a dollar and shoved it in my hand. “Go ahead.” he whispered eagerly in my ear then steered me towards the booth.

I turned back again and pushed past him. “Oh, that’s alright. I’m not in a darting mood.” I stated, antsy.

He grabbed my upper arm --- what was it with him and grabbing my arm? --- and swung me around to face the stand again. “C’mon. Just try. One time.” When that didn’t work, he tried a different plea. “I’ll play too.” he posed, raising his thin eyebrows. He deftly swiped out a few dollars and dragged me to the booth as I weakly tried to stand my ground. “Four darts each, please,” he requested, placing the money in front of the man running the stand.

The man instantly had four placed in front of both of us. I spared a pouting glance at Mitchell, who then gestured for me to go first. After hesitating stubbornly, I wielded a dart at last, quite begrudgingly, and aimed for one of the balloons. As soon as the dart left my grasp, I knew something bad was going to happen. Murphy’s Law blatantly played and replayed over in my head: “If anything bad can happen, it will.” Rocketing through the air, the dart set its course straight for the man with the darts --- seemingly getting its revenge for being reused, or perhaps hoping for a “family” reunion with his fellow weapons of doom --- causing him to abruptly duck. Though this prevented him from having to explain the hole in his head, the dart didn’t exactly miss its mark --- for when the man (who was named Tom, as his flimsy nametag denoted) pulled away, a tuft of curly maple hair clung to his attacker.

Mitchell tentatively stepped up and gave me a sheepish grin, pushing my hand down from its upraised position. I quickly stepped back, chagrin coloring my face as I grinned guiltily at Tom. Mitchell threw the next seven, each one popping either its target or a few millimeters off. After winning at least 3 prizes, he traded in the smaller ones to get me a big floppy bear. “Thanks.” I uttered softly and nervously, still shaken from the dart incident. He patted my back reassuringly and led me to the next stand, declaring, “Let’s go to another booth before a dart appears in your hand.”

I completely agreed. Arming me with a dart --- or any sharp (or blunt) object for that matter --- was entirely dangerous and hazardous to your health. I wondered what booth we would go to next. With any luck, nothing that included me holding, throwing, or catching something. He was careful to find stands with those regulations, winning more and more prizes. We had just come from the Plinko booth, when it happened.

All day had been amazing. I could never explain how blithe I had felt this whole time. His nonexistence seemed to set things in balance --- put them in perception. I’d never felt so . . . real --- so . . . tangible. Life was now complete. Life was now normal. Life was now mine. Reality had seized me in its soothing grasp and caressed me with raw resolution for once in my life --- but now, as I laughed and sauntered along, reality seemed to set as the orange sun on the horizon. Surrealism uprooted it. Just as the last of Certainty’s touch was fading, he arrived. Yes. Him.

My bliss abandoned me.

He strolled in his usual perfect gait --- his face stone, his eyes unreadable. He had a searching expression --- wanting, inquisitive, erudite all at once --- and the moment those golden eyes turned on me, I froze. My fury boiled and unleashed its power. It took all I had not to spring and mall him. My hands rebelled against me and clenched in hatred, ripping some unobserved object in my hands. When a smirk swiped across his face, my hands twisted abruptly. Mitchell’s voice broke through the sound barrier.

“Why are you killing Mr. Bearington?!” he cried, alarmed. I felt the stuffing falling over my hands, but I didn’t care.

My eyes never left his. Everything else was unnecessary. Everything else was surreal. He was the one truth --- but also my target. For once in my life --- and exactly when I needed it ---, my aim was perfect. The flailing disemboweled teddy hurtled through the air and struck his marble head, only to bounce off with a pitiful squeak and tumble mercilessly to the ground.

“Whoa! I didn’t know that thing had a squeaker.” Mitchell mumbled, completely oblivious to my sudden outrage.

I sped to the destination of my ruined bear and bent to pick it up, when I met his fiery eyes. The gold was breathtaking and immediately beckoned the memories that were so etched into my brain. His frigid hand brushed mine as he passed the bear to me gently. His eyes never left mine --- even when he straightened up. When my gaze finally was able to travel down to the item in question, it was perfectly fine. The stuffing was shoved back in just as it had been before, and the rips were sealed temporarily. However, when my head whipped upright, he was gone.

I briefly wondered if I had been hallucinating this whole time --- if I really was losing it. What if he was never real? What if some rabid dream of mine had seeped out into “reality”? Well, all my troubles were vanity then. Right? I turned to Mitchell and brandished the rejuvenated bear, shock washing my hatred away with its deliberate ebb. Proceeding my pathetic toss at Mitchell, I yelled, “’Mr. Bearington’? What kind of name is that?” and laughed as we continued on our way.

The rest of the day, we acted as if nothing had happened --- which caused me to doubt it even had. As the last orange arc of sun merged with the dark of night, I could feel my veracity exit with it. We soon left the carnival --- me frantically glancing around for him, and Mitchell, as always, swaggering and grinning beside me. Once we made it through the outlet, he instantly challenged me to a race to the car, laughing as he posed it.

“No, no, no.” I anxiously declined. “Bad things happen when I run --- just like when I handle darts.” Or anything that requires throwing . . .

His grin widened. “Exactly.” With that, he took off. His run was fluid and concise --- a picture of endurance --- and when I started sprinting after him . . ., well, I paled in comparison. I could feel my arms flapping and flailing wildly as I dashed forward. I was doing pretty well with my footing --- that is, until I encountered the pebble. Why is it always the small things that cause the biggest failures? First, my foot considered the pebble a threat, and quickly spun and bent to the left when met with this obstruction. Then, as I stumbled, I astonishingly gained two left feet --- each of which stepped on the other, fumbling for an escape. This unbalanced me --- as everything did! --- and I went flipping into the asphalt. This sent me sprawling head over heels until I rolled smack into his car. Fortunately, he didn’t have a car alarm --- so I was spared that chagrin. As for my crimson face, well, that was unalterable. Mitchell couldn’t handle it anymore --- he fell to the ground, laughing. (He had already reached the car and had been watching me finish.) This caused me briefly to remember when I’d tried the old Pirates of the Caribbean trick on him when he wasn’t paying enough attention to me. ‘Oh. OH! The heat!’ I’d cried, before mock fainting.

He’d snickered once --- and then left me there.

. . . Of course, it had been in the middle of fall.

I slowly picked myself up, making sure he caught my constant glare at him as I was. My hands stung as I jerked my door open and climbed in, but somehow in my ascent into the jeep, my foot betrayed me again. Catching on the bottom of the vehicle, my foot triggered my flip headfirst into the passenger seat. This only made Mitchell roar louder with laughter before he climbed in as well and helped me up chivalrously. My glare grew softer as I stared into his beaming face, so I replaced it with a hard punch on his shoulder. “You’re not supposed to laugh.” I muttered. “You’re supposed to help me up and ask if I’m okay.”

“And then laugh.” he quickly added, and then ducked as I swung a slap at his head. “Okay, okay!” he surrendered. “I’m sorry. I did help you up. Are you okay? For both times, that is.” he indisputably questioned sympathetically. I couldn’t refuse his worry-etched face. His earlier grin was infectious, causing a wide smile to flash across my features.

“I’m fine.” I replied lightly. “Just a few scrapes --- no bruises, no bleeding, and no head trauma. Don’t even comment.” I warned him swiftly after that last part. We both snickered as he put the car into gear and swiveled the car around to face the entrance.

Under his breath, I heard him declare, “Let’s do this thing.”

When we finally reached my house, the sun was long gone. I suddenly realized that my mom would be wondering what I had been doing this whole time. I hadn’t called her. Shoot! I murmured a few dreary phrases before turning to Mitchell. “My mom.”

His face immediately creased in the gravity of the situation. Then, as if some profound unknown had just been solved in a matter of seconds, his face lightened abundantly. “I’ll come in with you,” he stated more than suggested and seized my hand in his. Pulling me out of his side of the car, he jumped down from the jeep and helped me do the same. Slamming the car door after releasing my hand, he grinned again. The sand of my short driveway scattered beneath us, sending up a cloud of stifling smoke. I patted both my pockets and searched my jacket for my keys, until figuring it wasn’t needed when the doorknob started turning itself. The door opened before us, and there stood my mom.

Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, wavy locks falling out and framing her face. She was dressed in an old T-shirt I’d remembered buying for her at some park we went to --- which displayed many jungle animals, a staring and triumphant lion dominating the forefront. Her jeans were faded and ripped in countless places, displaying the wear and tear they’d gone through while in their prime. This was my mother’s outfit, nothing fancy, nothing impressive --- she only came as her honest self. “Oh!” she cried, throwing the door open a bit wider. “Come in! It’s getting colder as we speak!” Mitchell and I stepped in lightly, ducking by her to enter the kitchen behind the stairs. “Sit down, sit down.” she cried, racing to the refrigerator. “Is there anything I can get you . . .” She paused, trying to remember his name as she snapped her fingers frantically.

“Mitchell. And thank you, but I’m fine.” He and I both willingly sat down as my mom rushed neurotically back and forth.

“Oh, so this is why you were out late? Well, I never thought you’d be with . . . Mitchell again. Did you and that Aster boy break up?” she rambled.

I gave her the “Mom!” look and quickly hid my face from Mitchell. “Riley’s gone for the next week, Mom. And we only went to the carnival. They’re in town a few days.” I covered, my face growing more scarlet by the second.

“Ah, yes, the carnival.” she replied simply. I could hear the chagrin in her voice before she glanced at Mitchell to glean his reaction to what she had said. He had an excellent poker face. “I-I’ll just leave you two alone.” She gave me a sly smirk and dashed out into the den. I heard the TV switch on and a bag of something being reopened as she sat down.

Ever so slowly, my head turned back around to Mitchell. His face was aglow. “So, you and Riley. I had thought so. Although it’s kind of hard not to hear you when you scream ‘Yes!’ across the lunchroom.” My face colored with chagrin. Was I really that loud? Or excited? “It really wasn’t that hard to tell considering his and your expressions.” The crimson seemed to brighten and accumulate but my face paled at his next comment. “And then there was the hug.” His grin grew as I stiffened. If only you knew . . . His eyes searching my face, I stood up abruptly to get us a couple of sodas, and he noticed just how abruptly. “Too touchy a subject?” he queried, cocking his head playfully.

“No.” I answered truthfully, slamming the fridge closed before I set both cans at the table. He picked his up and popped it open, toasting it to me gratefully. “I just don’t see how it matters.” I sat down a popped open my own, and then, sipping it cautiously, gauged his reaction. “I’m going out with Riley. There. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.” I ran my pinky in circles on the can, scrutinizing my finger as it moved. “People seem to just need something to talk about.” After saying it, I instantly glanced up. “I’m not talking about you.” I amended hastily. Even though I thought I was a few days ago. “It’s nothing big; we’re not even official.” How was it that I just opened up to him so easily? I think this was about the third time I had done so. There was just something about him . . .

“Yeah, I know.” He seemed to stare off into nothingness for a while before returning his eyes to mine ever so slowly. “Well, without wagging tongues, we’d never have any news. And that’d be a shame.” He clicked his tongue then stood up, planting the soda down on the table resolutely. It was quiet for a few seconds until I realized what drove him to stand. “You’re leaving already?” I inquired, rushing to his side. Before he could even answer, I continued, “Well, then, I’m walking you out.” already zipping up my jacket.

Ever so gently, he placed his hand over mine to stop me. The movement almost murdered my already over-anxious heart. “Don’t. It’ll only give your mom more suspicions about us.” Which you’d love . . . “Today was fun.” he remarked, ruffling my hair lovingly before turning to leave.

“Mitchell.” I called uncertainly. As he spun around to face me, his eyes locked inescapably with mine once more. “Thanks.”

“Oh! No problem.” he sighed, pleased. “Whenever you need someone to skip school with, just c---“

“For everything.” I finished. He stopped right then and there, his link with my eyes intensifying. There was a certain force through the few seconds of silence --- like an electric current flowing through and connecting us. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell me how much he’d missed me. He wanted to plead he was wrong to ever fall out of friendship with me. I could see it all in his eyes --- but all that came was a gentle smirk.

“See ya, Ro.”

As soon as the door slammed shut, my bliss dissipated. Any reality remaining drove off with him. Soon, I could hear the roar of his engine no more, and when I thawed out of my frozen position and looked out the window, he was gone.

Slumping down into my chair again, I tried to keep my mind from where it was racing presently --- him. Since I couldn’t block it any way that I tried, I pondered on my newest theory. He was a hallucination. I mean, really --- this one actually made the most sense. It was much more likely that I had gone off the deep end than that my angel could possibly be real, or as inhuman as I suspected. My angel was a hallucination. And if he as a whole was a hallucination . . .

I gradually rose to my feet.

I wasn’t being stalked! If my angel himself was a hallucination, then it only made sense that his other half was one as well. I was free. The fear still prickled at the back of my mind --- the severity of the situation was still real enough.

Then a new theory revealed itself to me --- more horrible than I could imagine.

What if Everett wasn’t my stalker?

I slumped down once more, stunned.

Of course, he was the obvious choice, but it’s always the obvious ones you suspect. The obvious ones you suppose, while the guilty ones slither through the shadows unsuspected. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? There had been so many more options besides him, and yet my mind had been one track. As if by miracle, the blinders disappeared and I was finally opened to the truth. But it couldn’t be . . .

What if it was Riley?

What if it was Mitchell?

Anyone could be doubted. No one could be trusted. I was alone, like I had been so many times before. Only this time it was fatal.

I glanced into the den to check on my mom. Poking my head in farther, I could see that she was still engrossed in some reality show I didn’t know the name of. A snotty, shiny-haired brunette with too much makeup on complained on camera about how her “friends” “wronged” her so many times and how she couldn’t take it anymore. Any other time, I would have burst out laughing, but not now --- not when everything suddenly seemed so close, so encompassing. The feeling of the cold and unfamiliar returned to me with more force than it had before as I mounted the stairs. My haven was only a few feet away. Once behind the “safety” of my door (nowhere was safe anymore), I locked it and twisted towards my bed, my vision already smearing with brimming tears. Okay, let’s start with Mitchell. I fingered my way over to the bed and sat down, listlessly reaching over to pull closed the curtain. This immersed me in a wholesome darkness. Ha! I was already facing one of my fears.

So, Mitchell. Well, first, we had become a lot closer as the attacks became stealthier and more deliberate. Maybe today was just one of his tricks to assure me of trusting him. In addition, how I just spontaneously opened up to him briefly reminded me of his ability to stun me. Nevertheless, what was the motivation? That seemed to be the only part lacking. But Mitchell should possibly be the most suspected because he was the least obvious.

Then there was Riley. All the odds were in his favor. Memories of all the casual times he’d been “more than human” flashed through my mind. He had seen the meadow in perfect detail miles ahead, his climb was deft and concise, his hug was iron, his reflexes always one step ahead, his flexibility and speed in “action” situations remarkable. I had always just thought he was better than I was in those things, but now they seemed plunged in infamy. However, I was still lacking a motive.

Out of all three, he --- E . . . E . . . Everett --- fit the bill. (of course, he didn’t exist, so no wonder he fits so well.) Super speed --- more like teleporting --- lightening-swift reflexes, the skin the eyes, the growl. He had attacked me for Pity’s sake! There were so many reasons to condemn him, yet, they all seemed to fade. Too obvious. Plus, still no motive.

Standing up fervently, I began to pace about the room. Mitchell must have been very discreet if it was he --- for the other two had passed the test with more than enough characteristics. Both of them had exhibited very . . . nonhuman qualities. Mitchell should be the most expected while the other two the least because of their frankness. Perhaps there was more to his behavior than met the eye. Yes, you could say that his indiscretion was a dead giveaway of his innocence, but perhaps it was ironic --- a paradox of sorts. Perhaps he was evident intentionally. Perhaps he knew what I would think. Perhaps he was guilty only by being innocent. However, what if it was neither? What if his role was one of an accomplice? That would certainly be a reason to parade his “secret.” Distract the target until the mastermind takes the kill. I had seen enough murder movies to know that. And my avid watching of CSI had prepared me for the regular routine of an accomplice. They were usually the most blatant --- as I already said --- to cover for their cohort. Another huge fact about them was their gender. They were usually the opposite sex of the victim to distract them more efficiently --- usually by a relationship (which is the best distraction yet.) At that, Riley suddenly proved ideal for the role. My heart raced and I halted.

No, no! It couldn’t be!

My conscious started to seep from me as my panic boiled over, causing me to clutch the edge of my dresser with a death grip. My hand flew over my heart as I felt it seem to give out with its last rapid beats. As I fell to my knees, the tears began to escape and soak my clothing relentlessly. Just as my crying could get no more boisterous (apparently it was smothered downstairs by the sound of the TV), the phone rang.

Sobering up quickly, I ran to catch the phone, which was still up in my room, before my mom came looking for it. “Hello.” I greeted as indifferently as I could, my voice cracking.

“Rosette?” Even through the trauma I had just undergone, the Riley’s voice was like a breath of fresh air. My heart immediately calmed and resumed its steady pace as if nothing had ever changed in my view of him. “Are you alright?” he asked tentatively. I could hear the enthusiasm in his tone and the beam intertwined all through the question.

“Oh, I’m fine.” I guaranteed him, my voice cracking again at the end and giving me away. “Just . . . life.” I added after a few seconds.

He gave a soft chuckle before inquiring, “You do know what ‘fine’ represents, right?” After waiting for my quiet no, he continued with another gentle chuckle. “Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.” He paused for a hearty laugh. “’Italian Job.’ It’s from the movie ‘Italian Job.’” he declared, his voice no longer diffident. His laidback manner caught me speechless most of the time still, but now it was refreshing --- something to soak up and bask in. I lay back on my bed, closing my eyes and sighing at his long missed “presence.”

“Right. Yeah, I remember that.” I agreed, snickering. I also remembered Mitchell using that phrase on me several times during the last few years of our friendship. Highschool was highschool, and ‘fine’ certainly seemed the word to describe the drama and emotions. “Man, it’s good to hear from you again.” The nasally tone to my voice was light now and almost unnoticeable as I breathed this.

He sighed himself and I could hear the grin in his voice as he answered, “You need to get a webcam.”

“Yeah, I do. But knowing you, you’d find some way to hack into it and spy on me.” This caused a good hard laugh to escape us both. “Am I wrong?” I queried sarcastically.

“Probably not. I would be sorely tempted to, though.” A blush crept up my face at that comment and the next few. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to see your pretty face all day, see what you do, what you say about them.” He started to breathe the last part and sighed.

“Aw, thanks. But I don’t think you want to see how I act right now. Things have gotten a little . . . loopy.” We both laughed. “It’s nice to talk to a sane person!” I exclaimed through my mirth.

“Well then you’ve got the wrong dude,” he declared, pausing to take a breath. During this, I could almost imagine him whipping his head side-to-side warily. “I’m not that sane,” he whispered conspiratorially, afterwards letting out an irrepressible snicker.

At that, we both burst out laughing for about the third time. After catching my breath, I stated admiringly, “I’m beyond words, Riley. All I can say is I’m really glad you’re my friend.” Even through the trauma of the minutes before, it was the solid truth.

. . . No matter what.

He paused for a moment to absorb what I said, his breathing --- soft and even --- being the only sound for a few seconds. Eventually, I heard him mutter, “And possibly more than one.” barely audible.

“Exactly.” I replied instantly, not sparing any time for thinking, only blurting out the truth.

I heard him start at my comment with a sharp intake of breath. “S-so is that a yes?” he stuttered eagerly. I could hear the grin in his tone and almost imagine his face beaming at my comment. Once more, my memory of the day he had first asked me out returned to me. The beam of his expression at that moment had been remarkable. You would think that at how laidback and shy he was, that nothing would faze him, but apparently something about relationships or me brought him out of his shell.

Did I really want this change, though? I mean, what if it didn’t work out? I would hate to jeopardize our friendship --- it was the first real one I’d had in a while. And what if I cared way more about him than he did about me? What if that freaked him out?

A million questions etched themselves into my brain --- but I ignored them.

“Yes to what?” I inquired vaguely. I needed him to say it. I needed to hear the words for real.

“To-to-ugh! I don’t know why it’s so hard to say it! Here I’ll just ask it.” he explained, his voice slightly shaky. “I know we’ve only been on two dates but, I’d like the rumors to be true. I’d like the quotation marks off our hypothetical ‘us.’ I’d like for us to be . . . together.”

My breath caught in my throat along with the simple answer I was going to give. That plain reply seemed driven away by a charge of other complex and sincere responses I could give. There was something about the earnest --- the modest --- way that he asked it, something about the tone of his voice. I couldn’t refuse him ---- not that I wanted to. “Of course it’s rushed. Riley, I couldn’t ever care about how rushed it is. Everything with us has been rushed.” I took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart and trembling voice. “The very day I met you, we were already best friends --- you were already the best thing in my world. Only a few weeks later, you asked me out and I was already ready for it. Only after our second date, you had to see me --- which, in turn, caused our first kiss! Don’t you see? Everything with us has been so rushed that I couldn’t care less what happens at what point in time. So, you knew my answer before you even asked. Yes. Unquestionably, undeniably yes.”

It was quiet for a long while after that --- my relieved breathing being the only sound.

“A-are you okay?” I queried hesitantly when he hadn’t spoken. I considered briefly that maybe he had hung up --- but when that theory finally registered, my breath caught painfully in my throat again. The tears began to spring up once more as I shook my head disdainfully. My hopes were dashed when I heard no answer and I held the phone away from my head to press the ‘end’ button --- but right before my finger touched, I heard a quiet but wholehearted ‘thank you’ waft over the line.

My heart almost exploded with glee. The tears that had been of grief now burst from my eyelids with joy. “No, no --- thank you!” I almost exclaimed, making even myself jump. “What happened? Why couldn’t you answer?! You, like, scared me to death! I mean, I thought you didn’t agree or I had freaked you out or---“

“Rosette.” he intervened softly. “I would never disagree with that.”

Even though his answer was simple, it clarified every question roaming through my head. I breathed a huge sigh of relief at his reply and slightly giggled. “Man, I really need to stop having these panic attacks. I’m going off the deep end!” After letting out a hideous chortle, I finished. “It must be the NyQuil. I must be getting high on that stuff. Sometimes it’s like I have it for dinner.” Wow, now I really am losing it. Get a hold of yourself, Rosette.

“That bad, eh? Sleep much?” he chortled, making my world light up again. I didn’t know what it was --- when he laughed, it was just so airy and free.

“Not really. That’s probably why I’m practically addicted to that stuff now!”

“Maybe you should go a night without it. Maybe change will help you sleep. I know change is helping me sleep tonight.” It only took a second for me to catch what he was getting at, knowing it would be the same for me. I wanted to talk to him forever and bask in our change and his sanity, but that was when I caught sight of the time. It was already 11:30 and my mom would be checking on me in 5 minutes. Should I risk being busted and possibly --- but most probably --- grounded just for the sake of talking to him for a few minutes longer? He was worth it, absolutely --- of that I was utterly sure. But it was whether I could actually pull it off. It was whether I actually had the heart to take that venture.

I was sure I didn’t.

“Riley.” I began, sighing mournfully. I was just about to say it. Wave goodbye to sanity, Rosette.

“Wow. It’s late over here. I’m going to get so busted. Not that it would matter when it’s you I’m talking to.” His tone seemed to take on a dreamy air. “I really don’t want to hang up with you.” He heaved a heavy sigh and I heard the creak on a bed being flopped on. “But I guess I have to, because I don’t want us both in trouble.” Another sigh. “Man, you are unforgettable.”

After another few moments of silence, I finally spoke up. “Thank you Riley.” I stated solemnly. “I’ll try to talk to you soon.” Already the grief was overwhelming. Couldn’t we just talk forever?

“I will talk to you soon, Setti.” With those few words, he was gone.

I set the phone down gradually, not able to regain regular-paced movements yet. Putting my head in my hands, I rubbed my temples with force. So much change in so little time.

Yet this change was phenomenal. It was fantastic. I couldn’t explain even in a million words the ultimate elation that throttled my well-worn heart --- it was overbearing. I leisurely pulled the comforter back from the head of my bed and snuggled into the bottom of it before pulling the rest up to my chin. Gazing up at the ceiling, I remembered the horror I’d been through in the past weeks and compared it to the ecstasy I was experiencing now.

There was no comparison.

At that point, I knew it wasn’t any lack of NyQuil that was going to help me sleep. Life was changed --- I was changed. And that’s what brought sleep peacefully and gracefully upon me.

The next few days were normal and at a regular pace. I did the usual --- school, small talk with Mitchell, glares from Valerie (when she was there, as she seemed to disappear then reappear every other hour), and a crowded lunch. I would come home, do my homework, then listen to music to keep my mind on track. Apparently, the predator and all doubts about him had been wiped from my mind --- replaced by daydreams of what could be. I barely thought of anything else that day, and when I did, it was wholly and instantaneously unseated by my musing. It was during one of these days that I had the car to myself once again. I was already making plans of what I would do for my mom’s next three days off as I waltzed into 3^rd period Spanish. Mitchell hastily scampered past me to save a seat for me, doing so when he arrived there. I greeted him with a grateful smile and sat down tentatively as he plopped down beside me. Spreading out his books on the desk, he seemed to realize something.

“Shoot! I don’t have my Spanish grammar book.” he clarified, rifling through his backpack. He heaved sigh of utter frustration as he sat back in his chair. “Would you be willing to share?” he queried, his face brightening.

“Sure.” I voiced barely, setting my book on the table and centering it in front of both of us. As the teacher began class, I couldn’t help my mind from wandering again.

Me! He had asked me, of all people, to be together with! It was like I was in a hazy --- but extraordinary dream. It couldn’t be real. Riley was everything I had ever looked for in a guy. He seemed too good to be true --- which usually meant that it was. This statement roughly snapped me back into reality. What if I had dreamed? What if it never happened? And --- the most horrible --- what if it had, yet he changed his mind or never meant it? My heart sunk at those possibilities. It couldn’t be. He had to have meant it! As for changing his mind, he wouldn’t! There was no way! He cared way too much. It was real, he wouldn’t change his mind, and he certainly meant it.

“Thanks again.” Mitchell hissed, scattering my thoughts abroad into nothingness. I blinked a few times to assess my surroundings and was abruptly conscious of reality. Sound returned to me progressively and my mind was back on course. Ugh, I hated reality.

The haze that had been clouding up my mind faded pitifully as I was forced to face the certainty I truly deplored. I glanced at Mitchell then the teacher to make sure my mind was once again on a conscious level, blinking profusely as I did so. It still didn’t seem real --- as if I was watching someone else’s life, and not mine, through their eyes. I expected at any time to be transported straight back to the right body and continue my day --- but a hint of unreality remained.

I listened throughout the class to Miss Malcolm’s lesson, barely using the book or making sense of anything. I was still inside my head, reality fully intact, sorting out everything that had happened. I still couldn’t believe most of it.

Later that day at lunch, Mitchell’s eyes seemed to bore into me. I calmly sat eating my food and trying to avoid his stare. My eyes were firmly planted on my fork as it rose to my mouth. However, just before it reached it, Mitchell let fly the question I bet he had been yearning to.

“So, are you and Riley official now?”

My fork dropped and I turned to him ever so slowly, my eyes wide in excitement. “Yes!” I finally exploded, causing Mitchell to jump back slightly in his chair all eyes to lock on me. I giggled nervously and lowered my voice. “He just asked me last night. And it was so sweet the way that he did it. And I was really shocked and stuff, because, of course, I’m like, ‘Why me, of all girls?’ But he asked! And he meant it! And I’m just so . . . thrilled! And it was so cool because---“ I took in the confusion on his face and abruptly halted my blather. “Sorry. I forgot you’re not a girl.”

“Oh, well that’s nice.” he commented sarcastically, crossing his arms and turning away from me.

“Well I didn’t mean it that way!” I corrected, using my fake panicky tone.

He turned back around and winked --- which was our cue that we was only kidding. He had done that all the time when we were kids. Folding his hands behind his head, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, giving me that stare again. “So, you and Aster, eh?” His eyes were drawn up to the ceiling and were stayed there for quite awhile. “Hmm . . . I had heard the rumors, but still . . .”

“What? You seem surprised.” I grinned slyly and a light clicked on in my head. I sat up straight and gave him the look. “You think it’s not going to work!”

A grin crossed his face and widened as his eyes returned to me. “It’s not a ‘no’. But it’s not exactly a ‘yes’ either. I don’t know. I think it’d be . . . interesting to watch.” He let out a slight snicker and stared up at the ceiling again.

“Well then you’ll get a chance to in just a few days. He’s coming back by Sunday.” I answered smugly, focusing back on my food again. Then a thought occurred to me. Was Valerie here today? One look around the cafeteria confirmed the negative.

No Valerie.

I would have sighed in relief, but I was almost disappointed. She’d been gone for the past three days that I’d been here. I was about to ask Mitchell about yesterday when I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Upon looking up, I just about fell out of my seat.

“Valerie?” I stammered, trying to reason how I hadn’t noticed her.

Exactly! Maybe his whole family was like him.

Valerie rudely waved Mitchell off, which he stubbornly refused, causing her to grab my arm and forcefully drag me from my chair out into the hallway. Once out there, I shook off her arm and stepped back. “What is all this about?” I shot off defensively, backing a few more steps away.

She came towards me quickly, a grimace of hatred clear on her face. Jabbing her finger into my breastbone, she hissed, “Listen to me very carefully. I want you to stay away from my brother. Stay away from me. Keep a keen distance between yourself and our family. Understand?”

I could’ve almost died of my sardonic laughter. They say that laughter is the best medicine, but this one tasted like poison. All the fear and hatred for him came rushing back to me. “I’d rather stay away from him! He is the last person I would ever want to see! So you don’t have to worry.” Her hand descended cautiously. “My life is perfectly fine without him in it.”

“Just stay away from us,” she warned with a bit less venom. “It’s better that way.” Her face got closer and closer to mine until our noses almost touched. “It’s safer for you.” she spat, pulling away after she said it. I tried to suppress the need to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

“Ha!” I declared, attempting to plaster my apprehension. “He’s already dead to me! And you’re barely ever in my life! I’ll tell you again --- I’m perfectly fine without any of you in my life!” At that, I spun on my heel and walked decisively back through the double doors of the cafeteria, Valerie silent behind me. I walked straight to my table, grabbed my bag and barely glanced at Mitchell, muttering, “Anyone asks, I’m nauseated.”

I barely registered Valerie’s presence as I shoved through the double doors once more.

I needed a wheel in my hands. I needed the rumble of a car underneath my feet. I needed to speed away from this school as fast as I could and leave life behind me.

Once past Valerie, I broke into a run, my arms flailing at my sides. As I burst through the outside doors, a blast of fresh air hit me with a rigid caress. I marched straight to my car, my hands balling into fists and my anger turning my vision a fiery red, along with my face. Yet, no memories came. There were no flashes of him, no mental videos to replay.

Ha! I guess he really was dead to me. He didn’t exist. He had never existed.

I shoved myself into the van and ran my hands over the wheel, tightening and releasing them repeatedly. As I peeled out of the school and sped towards wherever I was going, memories cam of the last time I had done this.

 . . . When my parents split up.

My foot slowly ascended off the gas pedal, causing others to speed around me, cars honking and people swearing. I hadn’t thought of my dad for years. The memories hadn’t returned until now. For almost a year after, I’d mourned the separation. I’d never seen him again after that. Ultimately, the last time I’d driven away to nowhere, like I was doing just now, was when they had split. I had been scared --- confused, traumatized, rebellious, and determined. My mind hadn’t been clear then, but was gleaming crystal now.

My foot slammed on the pedal and I veered into the left lane, fishtailing as I wildly made an illegal U-turn. When the gas pedal could go no lower, I shifted gears, while cutting off an angry businessman in his shiny red car.

It was a while before I got where I was going. As soon as I even had an inkling I was there, I veered off, racing over rolling hills of green. I spun into park and immediately kicked my door open, tramping over to the gleaming lake in front of me. Falling to my knees, I didn’t even realize I was crying until my face and shirt were soaked with their flow. They fell into the cold, willowy grass below me, only to be lost in the dirt.

Memories of that night came flowing back to me and left just as fast as the tears themselves. I was the reason for the whole thing. I had separated my parents.

It had all started with my faith. My parents had never really been churchgoers, but that Sunday we had decided to attend. And even though that day had changed the rest of my life, my mom had remained untouched. My dad, however, --- well it had started working on his heart. I had accepted Christ, which changed my life, and he was convicted to do the same after I explained it to him. However, my mom, she had never been open to the idea --- and that’s what caused their falling-out. Of course, I was in the middle of the whole thing, and the target of their discussion. This “discussion” ended in a rising of voices, sobbing of tears, slamming of doors, and peeling out of cars. I had taken off, swearing I would never return until this was resolved, but I was found and it was decided for me to stay with my mom, no matter how much my dad refused --- she wouldn’t let go of her last piece of Hudson. Apparently, her concern for my location was superior to her distaste for my resolution.

I hadn’t seen my dad since.

Of course, this wasn’t the only reason they’d separated. They’d had fights before --- my dad couldn’t hold a job, my mom didn’t care enough for her family, my dad needed to grow up, my mom needed to loosen up. There were many fights and many reasons for their separation, but somehow mine seemed the one with the most influence.

Suddenly, I wondered why I’d come here of all places.

“Don’t you realize where you are?” a voice sighed in my head. My eyes briefly fled from his to glance around the lake --- every tree, every blade of grass familiar to me. My recognition brightened my view and I could see just how clear the lake was, just how green the forest, and just how sheer the sky. This was our . . . hideout“

Suddenly, it all seemed so clear. This was why I had been drawn to this place, why the clear water seemed comforting, and why my presence here felt so right. “It’s been so many years.” I murmured, glancing around again just to soak up more childhood memories --- every inch of this place held them. Over there, a memory of playing tag. Over there, a memory of Mitchell’s fort. And over there, a memory of our “friendship ritual.” It was all here --- our whole past together, and only ours. This was our site --- immortal and innocent.

Loneliness enveloped me in its cold shadow.

The van rumbled up alongside the house, its solid beams cutting through the blackness like a knife. As one of the beams struck part of the forest, I swore I saw something dart away --- something . . . human. Immediately, the hatred welled up inside me, as loud and undeniable as the engine of the van. Every muscle was tightened in the adrenaline of the moment, and my hands seemed to cramp around the wheel. However, as suddenly as it had appeared, it wisped away, leaving me with an emptiness that drained the life from me.

I was relieved to find my mom asleep inside the house. Apparently relaxing had drained her as well. Stamping up the steps, I couldn’t erase the form of him in the woods from my mind. My irritation and curiosity got the best of me and I threw open the window, yelling, “Everett! Get out of my life!” I yelled many other things, most incomprehensible even to me; but it wasn’t until I drew my head back inside, bumping it on the sill in the process, that I noticed the note.

It was on a plain white square of paper, taped to the window --- nothing on it except for three simple yet ornately written words.

Still watching you.

       I ripped it off with a loud grunt, crumpling it up and tossing it to the side. I needed none of his concern. I needed none of his protection.

Yet I found relief in my room, and in my diary, which I pulled from the shelf as tenderly as if it had been a glass figure. It was old and torn, the pages wrinkled from use and the cover shredded and worn. Its faded yellow binding was stretched and separated in the places I had folded to keep it lying open. Leafing through the pages, I ran across my latest entries, which seemed to be centered on Riley. As I picked up my pen, I could already feel the pull of the paragraph.

Minute after minute I spent relaying the events of the past few days, making doubly sure to skip anything involving him and/or my stalker. I wrote for who knows how long --- and when my eyes finally closed and the pen fell from my hand, it was the words I had written that filled my dreams.

The next morning I woke with a start. All the facts I had gathered about my stalker and every theory I’d had of his identity was swirling around in my head, not to be stopped. Running my hands over my face, I took to erasing every single fact I knew --- every theory I’d created. I pushed it all to the back of my head, painfully attempting to obliterate it.

Getting ready for school was a slower process this morning. It was time to think --- time to evaluate my actions. This was something I needed to steer far from.

So, I skipped breakfast this morning --- it was only more time to think. Running out the door as I threw my jacket on, I debated whether to take the van or walk. My mom had spouted off some kind of plan for today and I was sure she’d need the van for it. Muttering murmurings under my breath, I headed towards the dirt road that led away from our house, only sparing one glance back as a parting gesture to our beloved van.

The school was packed in front, and by the time I got there I was too irritated to be able to stand it. Walking here had given me way too much time on my hands --- painful time that led me to evaluate everything that had been happening. So, as soon as I saw the crowd, I turned around, cursing myself once more and trying to think up a solution. It was then that I noticed something.

One sleek and beautiful black Corvette sat in the parking lot.

However, one glance around told me Valerie was not present, and when I strained my eyes to search the car, I found no one. I turned around again to reach the school and ward off my bombarding thoughts, looking up to make sure I wouldn’t run into anyone. I needed none of these thoughts right now. Pushing my way through the crowd, I barely paid attention to anything else. However, that was before the crowd began to break up.

That’s when I saw him.

Leaning against a tree by the school building was Everett, his black eyes boring into me. They held no golden glimmer, and even if they did, I wouldn’t be able to see it at this distance. My Everett --- harmless Everett.

But no! He was the enemy. He was dead. --- an illusion, hallucination, figment of my imagination. The crowd’s indifference only added to the mounting proof of this theory. Still, he stiffened when my eyes locked with his.

I was vulnerable. I was open. I was his.

I was prey.

“No, please no.” I mouthed as I struggled to keep the tears from pouring and tear my eyes away from him --- but I was captured. I immediately felt my hand at my face and began chewing on the end of my sleeve to keep from screaming. My fear was mounting --- I had finally realized how foolish I had been to be confident in his non-existence. Had I been truly losing it, I have no idea what I would have done. All I know is that somehow, sometime, I turned my back and sprinted towards the door --- fearing every step that I would feel the sweet caress, hear his velvet voice, and embrace the enchanting kiss of death.

My mind could not focus. His face was etched into my brain. He had looked troubled, confused --- as if he was searching for alternatives. I couldn’t get the picture of his expression to flee my thoughts --- it was permanent. He haunted me. Maybe it was true that he wanted to protect me. What if . . .

I murdered that thought with a determined glance at my small leather bracelet.

I would not relent. He was my stalker, no doubt about it. Riley was out of the question. But Mitchell . . . My eyes traveled over to glance at him uncertainly. This earned me a huge grin back.

No, no! I was relenting again. It was him! Him and only him! Everett was a fiend, a villain, a murderer. There was no other option --- he was my stalker, whether reality or fiction.

My determination from days before hit me with such force I had to catch my breath. I would die at his hands. I would spend my last seconds in his arms.

The shrill scream of the school bell scattered my thoughts and sent me flying out of my seat, making the class roar in laughter. After scrambling to my feet, I hugged my books to my chest and hefted my things to the next class, pushing through my snickering crowd.

The routine was the same --- I didn’t hear a thing the teacher said. My existence --- however short it was now --- was futile. My existence also would soon cease if I were lucky. If I wasn’t lucky, on the other hand . . .

No, no, I wouldn’t think of that. It was just a matter of avoiding. Yes, avoiding! Until I couldn’t anymore . . .

When the class finally let out, I took my usual spot in the corner at lunch. With one cautious but thorough look around, I concluded that Valerie was still not here. With a hesitant air, I pulled up my chair and sat down, slowly biting into my apple afterwards.

I couldn’t keep the thoughts from flowing through my mind. One halted them all. What if my life ended today?

Was that why he was waiting outside?

I dropped my apple, everything seeming to go in slow motion as I stood up.

Perhaps he was waiting just outside only to seal my fate when no one was looking. I clamped down on my thoughts to escape the way they were heading. I-I would escape. That’s it. I-somehow, I would live. One way or another, I would survive. It didn’t matter how --- I could not resign myself to dying in his arms, staring up into his merciless eyes.

No, no! I would think nothing of it. I would sit back down. I would get through my classes. I would walk outside. Then I would face whatever came my way --- with dignity.

One curious but cautious glance outside killed my heart and froze my eyelids so that I couldn’t turn away or close my eyes. He was there --- leaning up against a tree as before, only now in my line of sight. As soon as I had control of my muscles again, I whipped my head away, hiding it under a curtain of hair and the hood of my jacket.

The dread of my whole day was the second my foot touched the sidewalk outside. It was already crowded and only a few people had left, besides the residents of the bus --- I hadn’t gotten out in time. I had taken my sweet time, not wanting to be the only one out there or in a too small crowd. I took a few steps forward, focusing on keeping my breathing normal. However, when I saw that familiar form sprint towards me, I gasped in horror, tripping over myself to get to the door. No, NO! I screamed repeatedly in my head.

As soon as I was inside, the tears of hatred and fear began to flow, blurring my vision. This caused me to question the authenticity of the blob in front of me. That’s when I heard him.

“Rosette?”

There was hurt. There was anger. There was confusion. It was all there in that one utterance. But I didn’t care.

I whipped towards him with such a force I expected my hand to make swift contact with his face at any moment. “What do you want?”

I could not even fathom the amount of venom that stained my voice as I spat this at him, fully expecting death to come then and there.

“Rosette. I want to protect you. I need to. I can’t do that---“

“Go away!” I screeched through my teeth, my fear boiling to the surface.

“Rosette!”

That seemed to be the only thing he could say. It only escalated my fear, causing me to grit my teeth until I felt they would shatter. “You are not protecting me! You are only making this worse! How could I ever expect you to be my ally when you’ve proved yourself constantly to be my predator?!”

That was when I took off, him at my heels and the crowd already backing away from the two of us --- as if there was an invisible wall that set us apart from the rest. I was almost to the door. I pushed my legs to the limit until I was only a few feet away. Just as my hand shot out to shove the door, his solid form replaced it, barring me from my exit. I didn’t even venture to look into those cold eyes of his, only to turn away and run for the other door. Again, he shot into my path, backing me towards the double doors.

“What will it take for you to understand that I am your ally? I could never let anything hurt you, Rosette, much less hurt you myself. I believe there’s someone after you, and I’m determined to stop them. Permanently.” His jaw was clenched, his eyes fiery. He was passionate --- obviously concerned for my well-being. I wouldn’t believe it. I couldn’t!

“You think I can’t see you want to kill me yourself?” Here, I lowered my voice into a ferocious growl, burning him with my eyes --- now locked with his. “I don’t know why --- whether it’s for the thrill or if you truly have something against me. But I do know this much,” I overcame my stifling fear and jabbed my finger into his chest. “You are my enemy. You are my stalker. You are my predator. I won’t let it happen. I will escape you, somehow, someway --- anyway! I will not die at your hands, in your arms. I will never be your slave, your prey! But if I do, you can count on that I will be avenged. No matter how powerful you are, you know that that is true. I don’t know who you are or what you are, but you will die --- and I hope it is just as painful, if not more, than mine.”

At this point, my back touched the bar to open the double doors, which sent an idea surging through my brain. Fast as lightening, I shoved backwards through the door, only sparing enough time to slam it right in his face. I dashed as fast as I could for the road that led away from the school, Everett bellowing after me, “I’m not your stalker, Rosette! There are worse things out there than me!” His voice rose to a hysteric level. “He’s trying to kill you!”

I thought nothing of his last comment --- I had hardly even heard it. Once I hit the steps of my house, I slowed down just enough to avoid slamming into the door. Fumbling with the keys after retrieving them from my pocket, I frantically glanced around, feverishly hoping he hadn’t followed me. After shoving through the door, I found my mom at the kitchen table, eating a late lunch of cereal. At my arrival she shot up, her face creased in utter concern. “Rosette!” she cried, running towards me. “What’s wrong? You look like you just popped out of a horror movie!” Cupping my face in her hands, she searched my face, which I tried in vain to turn away from her. The tears began to flood once more, and soon enough I was curled into a ball, painful sobs shaking my form back and forth.

It was at least an hour before I could fully calm myself. My voice was hoarse from my shrill whimpers and cries. My mom faithfully grabbed tissues for me and soothed my red and swollen face with a hot damp washcloth.

“Now will you tell me what’s wrong?” my mom inquired as soon as my whimpers had faded into soft sighs of ache, cradling me as she rocked to and fro.

I couldn’t tell her. She wouldn’t believe me. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. I couldn’t--- “It’s Everett!” I wept, starting into hysterics at this explanation.

“Who? Who’s Everett?” she queried, attempting to make herself heard over my continual wails.

“And Riley. And Mitchell . . . And everyone! I just---“ I shot up, not being able to handle it anymore. “I’ll be in my room.” I assured her before darting up the stairs to my comfort zone --- my solitude ---, leaving her dumbfounded.

Doing my homework would keep my mind off everything. If I could just focus on getting it done, then bombard my head with horrendously loud music, perhaps the logic of the work and the volume of my headphones could heave him, bore him, somehow drive him from my head. However, when I glanced around for my backpack, it was nowhere in sight. I rose from my bed and searched about the room, still finding nothing. It was at this point that I figured I had dropped it downstairs. Cursing my negligence, I raced down to the kitchen only to find nothing. I rummaged around every place I could think to leave it, never discovering it anywhere. This is when it dawned on me where I had left it --- in front of the school doors. When I had frozen in shock, my bag had slipped from my arm to crash on the sidewalk before I ran. My horror and fury had completely erased any thought of it from my mind, leaving me to realize this now.

Any other highschooler would have thought nothing of it --- sauntering along on their merry way. Nevertheless, I was no ordinary student. (Not to mention, my sense was not exactly in tune at the moment.) I cared about learning. I cared about my grades. But most of all, I cared about my mom’s reaction. No doubt, none of my teachers would be very happy that I had no homework, no books, and no explanation --- but none of them would compare to my mom’s wrath.

I knew what I had to do.

About two hours later, my mom was engrossed in some reality show. I quickly checked on her more than once to make sure I was unnoticed. This was my chance. I was already prepared to go. All I had to do was quietly slip on my shoes, mentally noting to tie them once I got outside. The door creaked faintly as I promptly slipped through it, and the TV loud enough to cover it up. It only clicked slightly when I shut it tight, barely noticeable. Mom probably suspects it’s on the TV. There’s nothing to worry about now.

But who was I to know there was so much to worry about and so little time before it commenced . . . ?

The trip was a silent one. It seemed the woods were eerily hushed tonight, letting their ominous threats seep deeply into my brain. I jogged along at a steady pace, hugging my jacket tight around me so as to close out the thoughts that would hinder my journey.

I knew death would conquer me soon, but as to how soon I wish I had known.

The trip took me about 30 minutes, even running (it was cold tonight, and that was probably what had slowed me down.) --- so it was dark when I reached the school. I could barely make out the building itself in the thick darkness, much less the front doors, which made me wonder how in the world I would find my bag.

I could’ve sworn that just then I saw something dart across my path, only feet from me, but I anxiously waved it off as my nerves working overtime. I sprinted forward a few feet and saw the exact same thing. Seconds later, I heard it behind me. It’s nothing. Nothing. Rosette, you’re overreacting. I assured myself, taking slower motions to calm my dizzy head.

As I got closer, my eyes soon focused, allowing me to find the front doors. However, when I finally made my way to them, my bag was nowhere in sight. I briefly considered that I had left it inside --- no, my memory was clear enough. It had been right here . . .

“Looking for something?” an alluring voice echoed across the parking lot. It was unfamiliar --- yet . . . calming in a way. I whipped my head side to side, searching for a silhouette in the blackness surrounding me.

“Everett?” I voiced cautiously, skepticism edging every syllable.

Whoever it was laughed. They’re walking towards me. I deduced, hearing soft but authoritative footsteps. I could tell from the laugh and footsteps that it was a male, which instantly brought a barrage of escape plans to my thoughts.

Yet, I was immediately urged to step towards the origin of the voice. It was . . . soothing, comforting. For some reason I couldn’t stop myself --- it was so irresistible.

“Perhaps this is the item in question?” If they held up something, I couldn’t see it. I had barely even found the voice’s owner.

“I’m looking for my backpack.” My voice sounded dreamy, misplaced, and absentminded --- as if nothing in the world mattered. I was light. I was airy. I was floating!

“Ah. So this is the item in question.” As soon as he had emphasized the word ‘is’, my thoughts scattered.

My head was cleared. Nothing existed but his voice --- his wonderful, addicting voice! What had I been here for?

“Well, if so, I bet you’re yearning for it to be returned. Am I right?”

Was he right? Of course he was right! How could a voice like that be wrong?! I had no idea what he was talking about, though! I was too blissful --- too magnificently lost in the sound!

“Hmm . . . It’s pretty dark isn’t it? Tsk, tsk. And why would you be out in the dark? For a backpack? My, my!”

The more he talked, the more I felt drawn to him. I followed his charming voice, edging ever closer until I could make out his profile at last. It felt as if a rope was looped around me --- and every word he spoke tightened the slack.

“You’d like it back, would you not? To come this far in the dark for it, it must be very important.”

I finally made it a few feet away from him, but when he turned to lock his eyes with mine, the spell was immediately broken. I stumbled backwards, crying, “Who are you?” in confusion.

“Oh, I, uh,” He examined his nails. “I go to your school.” he assured me attractively.

The bliss threatened to overwhelm me once more. I had to shake my head to keep my thoughts together. He certainly did not look like a teenager --- I had never seen him before. The bliss grew stronger with his gaze, causing me to fight for common sense. Think . . . through, Rosette. Not . . . safe. . . . Fight . . . must . . . it. Keep together.

My thoughts were choppy and incoherent, but I knew what to do. Instantly, I jumped up, turning to run. He gave me a head start, his laughter turning hysteric.

“Don’t run!” he advised wildly with a cackle, and suddenly he was in front of me. “Because I can catch up.” He grasped my wrist and I twisted to get away, but his grip was just as iron as --- maybe even more than --- Everett’s. With my free hand, I swung a punch at his face, which he deftly dodged. “I wouldn’t do that,” he sang crazily with a chuckle in his tone. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

This was when I looked into his eyes, and immediately my struggling halted. His grip loosened and my arm fell limp. Everything slowed to a stop for the one second it all seemed to fall into place.

“No.”

‘He’s trying to kill you!’

Everett’s words hit me like an atomic bomb. They suddenly rang true in my ears. It was never Everett.

It was he.

His eyes had turned from black --- to red.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart tightened to the point of bursting, thoughts swirled inside my brain --- but only one mattered.

I was wrong.

Three things happened at that moment. He snarled, I screamed, and he lunged. All sound disappeared --- the whole world disappeared.

One fact remained --- Everett had been innocent. And as death finally closed its grip around me --- in the form of a creature so vile I never knew what it was --- all that I could claim was my guilt.

It was an overwhelming guilt. I had been wrong. How could I have blamed Everett so mistakenly? Had I been so horribly blind? Had I been so narrow-minded? Would it have been obvious had I only removed my blinders? I had been so set that everyone was against me, that no one could be trusted, that I’d forgotten a stranger could be the answer to my fate.

So as I hit the ground, my murderer above me, in the cold seconds of darkness, I prayed.

I prayed that Everett would understand. I prayed that my mom would be able to handle my death. I prayed that no one else would suffer this same fate.

When all hope seemed lost, and I could barely recognize my existence anymore, a sound I had always dreaded to hear echoed through the night.

A growl.

Everett’s growl.

My eyes had closed, my blood was drained, and it felt as if every bone in my body had been broken, but I could hear my savior’s battle with my predator.

As my mind finally shut off, and my last thoughts swirled through, a realization rose from the murky deeps of my mind.

It had not been the truth of Everett’s existence that kept me alive

It was him.