by Amy Cross
Suddenly Sophie lets out a gasp and spins around to face me.
“Damn it!” she splutters. “Where the hell were you hiding? You almost gave me a heart attack!”
“I was right here,” I tell her. “You walked right past me and didn't seem to notice that I -”
I catch myself just in time. For a few seconds, I feel a kind of foggy confusion settling in my mind, as if my thoughts are bogging down completely. This happens sometimes, I'm becoming rather used to the sensation, and I know there's only one way to clear my head. Forcing a smile, I remind myself that there's no point worrying about things that are beyond my control.
Still, Sophie is staring at me in a rather peculiar manner, as if she's troubled by something.
“Why don't we all sit down and look through some more photo albums?” I suggest, hoping to stir them into some form of enthusiasm. “After all, it's always nice to look back at happier times!”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Today
The glass digs deep into the side of my neck, and for a moment I feel its tip grinding against part of my jaw. Then, slowly, I start tearing a gash across my throat. I can hear the sound of my flesh ripping open, and suddenly a burst of blood sprays across the bathroom, splattering against the far wall.
“No!” Jonathan gasps, staring at me with utter horror in his eyes. “Victoria, stop!”
Letting out a sudden cry, I sit up on the bed and stare straight ahead. It takes a moment before I realize that I must have been having another of my nightmares. I don't know why, but over the past five or six months, I've been having the exact same nightmare each night.
I'm always in the bathroom.
I'm always cutting my throat open.
Jonathan is always shouting at me.
And I always wake at the exact same point.
Turning, I look down at Jonathan and see that he's still sleeping soundly next to me. Evidently I failed to disturb him, even though I'm certain I must have been thrashing about for the duration of the nightmare. I take a series of deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves, and then finally I climb out of bed and make my way silently across the pitch-black room. I know I shan't be able to sleep for quite a while now, and I don't want to trouble Jonathan, so I quietly slip out into the hallway and step into the lounge area.
Sophie must be in bed too.
Glancing at the clock on the desk, I see that it's almost 3am. I wander to the window and look out, and for a moment I can't help admiring the vastness of London. Even now, in the middle of the night, there are so many lights glittering in the darkness. I know New York is supposed to be the city that never sleeps, but there always seems to be so much life in London, as if the nighttime is simply a mild inconvenience. As I stand and watch the lights, I cannot help but wonder why I have stayed cooped up in the apartment for so long. I love London, I love being out at any time of the day or night, so why has it been six months since I stepped out through the apartment's front door?
I could go now.
I could slip away for a few hours in the dead of night, all alone.
For a moment, the thought is utterly enticing, but I quickly realize that I can of course do no such thing. The idea of leaving the apartment gives me a strange feeling of dread, and finally I turn to look at the front door. I know I'm most likely being a worrywart, but I absolutely cannot shake the feeling that something awful will happen to me if I ever try to leave. I'm sure I shall head out again one day, but for now I should perhaps stay right here where I'm safe.
I want to be safe.
And warm.
I need to be warm, but I feel so cold. I feel so utterly -
Suddenly I hear a door clicking open, and I turn just in time to see Sophie stepping out of the spare room. Her hair is a mess and she's rubbing her face, as if she's barely awake. Wearing just a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, she walks barefoot toward the kitchen, and she doesn't seem to have noticed that I'm here. I almost call out to her, but at the last moment I start wondering how long I might be able to hide my presence. Finally, as she slips into the kitchen, I make my way around the sofa and head over to the doorway.
She's getting a glass of water.
After a moment, my gaze is drawn toward the freezer in the far corner. Something about that freezer always makes me feel rather uneasy, and a shudder quickly passes through my chest. For several seconds, I simply stare at the freezer's lid, although I finally force myself to turn and look at Sophie. She's drinking the glass of water now, and she still seems completely unaware of my presence. I keep expecting her to suddenly gasp and turn to look at me, but instead she refills her glass and drinks some more water.
Lately, it seems so easy for people to ignore me.
It's almost as if I'm not really here.
Setting the glass down, she turns and heads this way. She clears her throat a little and then she walks straight past me, not even glancing at me once.
I turn and watch as she heads toward her room, but then suddenly she stops and looks back this way.
I wait for her to acknowledge me, for her to make some kind of joke about having missed me. Instead, she simply looks around for a moment longer before turning again and heading into the spare room. Finally, she swings the door shut, and I'm left once more alone in the lounge area.
She didn't see me.
Either she's blind, or...
I step into the kitchen, thinking that perhaps I should take a glass of water while I gather my thoughts. After a moment, however, I head toward the freezer and reach down to open the lid.
Suddenly a sharp pain shudders through my body, sending me staggering back. Startled, I try again, but the same thing happens. I don't even need anything from the freezer, but I can't help wondering why the cursed thing seems to have such a profound effect on me. I take another step closer, and for the third time I feel as if I'm being forced back.
“What's wrong with you?” I ask, staring at the freezer before an alternative question slips into my mind. “What's wrong with me?” I whisper.
In the distance, Sophie clears her throat.
I have to ask her.
Jonathan is no use, but Sophie might yet be able to help me figure out what's happening. Figuring that she seems to be still awake, I head through to the hallway and stop outside her door, and then I knock gently. A moment later I hear Sophie stirring on the other side, and then the door swings open. Immediately, I realize that once again she seems unable to see me, and I watch as she looks around the hallway. Finally, as if she's a little confused, she simply turns and heads back into the room, swinging the door shut in my face.
I open my mouth to ask why she'd act in such a way, but the words catch in my throat.
I think that, perhaps, I am afraid to hear her answer.
Reaching down, I take hold of the handle for a moment before giving it a turn and pushing the door open. Sophie is on the bed, resting on her side, but she looks this way as the door creaks. I freeze, waiting in case she acknowledges me, but after a few seconds she sighs and climbs out of bed. She comes this way and pushes the door shut behind me, and then she returns to the bed. Shocked that she once again failed to notice me, I watch as she climbs under the duvet and rolls onto her side, and a moment later I realize that she has closed her eyes.
Even though I'm in her room, she still doesn't seem to have noticed me.
This is intolerable.
I will not be ignored in my own home!
I turn to leave the room, before realizing that I absolutely must say something. Filled with a simmering sense of rage, I turn back to look at the bed, but I don't have to get a word out.
Instead, I'm startled to see that while Sophie slips into sleep, a figure is sitting crouched on the chair next to the bed. As soon as I see the figure's dark eyes staring straight at me, I know that I recognize her.
Slowly, Laura raises a finger to her lips and smiles, as if she's warning me to be quiet.
A shudder passes through my chest and
I take a step back, but Laura's gaze is fixed firmly on me. She's still grinning, as if she's highly amused by my surprise, yet Sophie seems to be resting peacefully. How can that be? How can Sophie be calmly drifting off to sleep, while I stand right here in front of the door and some kind of thing sits on the chair next to the bed? How can she be so completely oblivious?
“Sophie?” I whisper, hoping to rouse her. “Wake up, please...”
Suddenly Laura reaches over toward the bed and places a hand on the pillow, just a few inches from Sophie's head. Still watching me and grinning wildly, Laura lets her pale fingertips brush through a few stray strands of Sophie's hair, and a moment later Sophie lets out a faint murmur as she continues to sleep. At this, Laura turns and looks down at her, while slipping her fingers deeper and deeper into the mess of hair that rests on the pillow. Finally, just as it seems impossible that there has been no reaction, Sophie mumbles something in her sleep and rolls over, and now she's facing toward Laura but with her eyes still closed.
Laura's hand, meanwhile, is still resting on the pillow.
A moment later, those same pale fingers start slipping down toward Sophie's face. I can hear the very faint rustle of skin against fabric, but Sophie is still fast asleep. Laura is grinning, and slowly her fingertips start brushing against the side of Sophie's face.
I open my mouth to tell her to stop, but once again I can't quite get the words out.
Sophie murmurs again and twitches slightly, as if on some deep subconscious level she's aware of the disturbance, but she still doesn't pull away. Instead, she simply furrows her brow as Laura continues to rest her fingers on the pillow.
“Please,” I whisper, feeling dreadfully worried that Sophie is to be Laura's next victim, “leave her alone. Do you mean to sit and torture her all night?”
Laura turns to me.
“Leave her alone!” I tell her again, hoping against hope that this will all turn out to be some kind of terrible nightmare. “Why are you doing this to us?”
Sophie is mumbling a little more now, as if she's enduring a nightmare. She's almost speaking, but not quite. Instead her words are slurred, although she sounds very agitated. I open my mouth to shout at her, to wake her up so that Laura won't be able to hurt her, but suddenly the words catch in my throat as I realize that I have seen this horrific sight once before.
In the bathroom.
In the mirror.
For a fraction of a second, I see myself crumpling to the bathroom floor, clutching a shard of glass and sobbing. I see Laura standing over me, watching me with dark, hate-filled eyes, and I see Jonathan step into the doorway. And then I feel myself digging the glass through my neck, and I see a spray of blood hit the far wall.
I blink, and now I'm back in the dark bedroom.
Laura is still sitting next to the bed, but now she's brushing her fingers against Sophie's cheek. Sophie, meanwhile, mumbles something in her sleep, although she doesn't quite manage to roll away.
“Stop!” I stammer, terrified that Sophie is about to become Laura's next victim, after Lynn and Nick and...
And me.
“Stop!” I scream, stumbling toward the bed.
Startled, Sophie sits up and stares at me, and in that instant I see that Laura has disappeared from the chair.
“Victoria?” Sophie says, her eyes wide with shock. “What are you doing in here?”
Chapter Fifty
Today
“You're okay!” Jonathan says firmly, sitting directly opposite me and staring deep into my eyes. “Victoria, listen to me! Nothing is wrong and you feel fine!”
I open my mouth to tell him once again about the horrific sight of Laura, but somehow the words get lost between my throat and my lips. It's as if each word unthreads itself, and then the constituent parts dissipate and leave nothing but an echo on my tongue. I try again, with no better luck. Why can't I tell him what I saw?
A single tear runs down my cheek.
“You're okay!” Jonathan says again. “You are okay, Victoria!”
He seems so certain, so determined, and I'm already starting to doubt myself. At the same time, some of the memories are fading. I know I was in the bathroom, and something dreadful happened, but the details escape me. And even now, I'm not quite sure I remember who was on the chair next to Sophie's bed.
It was someone I recognized, but...
Reaching up, I touch the side of my neck.
“Don't do that,” Jonathan says quickly, taking hold of my wrist and moving it down to my lap. “Focus on the here and now.”
“You can touch me,” I whisper.
I wait for a reply, but he still seems concerned, as if he's analyzing my every move.
“You can see me,” I continue.
“Of course I can see you, darling. You're right in front of me.”
“Yes, but -”
I hesitate for a moment, before leaning forward and putting my arms around him. I hug Jonathan so very rarely, so the sensation is rather unusual. I'm sure that, a moment ago, I remembered something awful. Now I merely remember the remembering, although even that is fading. And now, mere seconds later, I remember that I remembered remembering, but...
What was wrong?
“I thought I was slipping away,” I continue, with tears in my eyes. “I thought I was fading to nothing. It was all so horrible!”
I wait, but while I have my arms wrapped around his shoulders, he has kept his hands at his sides. After a moment I pull back from the hug, worrying that I might have been a little too forward, and I'm certain I still see a hint of genuine concern in his eyes. I swear, he's studying me.
Before I can ask what's wrong, I see Sophie coming through from the kitchen with cups of tea for us all. She's so kind, and I still want to apologize to her over and over. I haven't told her why I suddenly woke her in the middle of the night, although now I think I don't remember quite what was wrong. Was somebody in her room? Is that what I saw? My mind is so foggy and unclear. Maybe there was nothing at all.
I can be so silly sometimes.
“I think I might as well stay up now,” she says as she sets the tray down on the coffee table. “I was going to have to get up early anyway, to get ready for Lynn's funeral.”
She glances at me.
“Are you coming, Victoria?”
“To the funeral?” My first instinct is to say that unfortunately I cannot, but suddenly I feel as if perhaps I must. “Yes,” I tell her. “Yes, I think -”
“No,” Jonathan says.
I turn to him. “I think I -”
“No, Victoria!”
“It might be good to get out of the apartment,” Sophie suggests.
“Yes,” I continue, perturbed by Jonathan's steely gaze. After a moment I look over at the darker end of the room, and I can't help searching the shadows for some sign of a figure. Are we being watched? I feel as if there is someone at the dining table. Maybe more than one person. “I would like to get out of the apartment,” I continue, shuddering slightly. “I've been cooped up here for so long and -”
“It's out of the question,” Jonathan says firmly. “Do be told, Victoria.”
“But -”
“You'd become unwell again.” He places a hand on my knee. “You're only yourself when you're here.”
“It's Lynn's funeral, though,” Sophie points out, clearly not convinced by his argument. “You missed Nick's, didn't you? Come on, Victoria, I can't remember the last time I saw you outside.”
“It has been a while,” I whisper, trying to remember the last time I walked out through the front door. Even the hallway that leads to the elevator feels like another world. I have made it as far as the elevator once or twice, but I can never step into the chamber. I simply stand at the entrance, blocking the sensor and keeping the door open, but never actually getting any further. I always end up retreating again.
“Victoria gets upset whenever she tries to leave the apartment,” Jonathan says, turning to Sophie. “Please, I
know what's best for my wife. She can't handle it.”
Sophie seems on the verge of arguing with him, but then she simply shrugs. “Okay. I guess you know best.”
“Now, I'm going to the bathroom to take a shower,” Jonathan continues, getting to his feet. He seems more relaxed now that the decision has been made. “When I get out, we can have an early breakfast.” He checks his watch. “A very early breakfast, but still, one mustn't complain. An early start is rather healthy.” He turns to Sophie. “And I'll order a car for nine, so you and I can go to the funeral.”
With that, he turns and heads to the bathroom, leaving Sophie and me to sit alone on the sofa.
“You should come to the funeral,” Sophie whispers.
“You heard Jonathan,” I reply, forcing a smile as I feel some of my usual poise and confidence returning. My usual serenity. “He thinks that leaving the apartment would be too stressful for me. He knows best.”
“Screw Jonathan!” she hisses. “I don't know what's up with him, but Lynn was your friend! Nick was your friend too, and you missed his funeral! How did that make you feel?”
“Well, I...”
I hesitate, as a faint sense of sorrow creeps up through my chest.
“It would have been nice to pay my respects,” I continue finally, “but -”
“But nothing!” Sophie continues, glancing toward the bathroom as the shower can be heard coming to life. After a moment, she turns back to me and leans closer, and then she lowers her voice to a conspiratorial hush. “You're not some kind of delicate porcelain doll, Victoria! You can leave the apartment for a few hours to go to a friend's funeral!”
“Jonathan won't -”
“I don't care what Jonathan thinks! And neither do you, not about this!”
She sets her cup aside and stands, holding a hand out toward me.
“He'll be at least twenty minutes in the bathroom,” she continues. “By the time he comes out, we'll be gone and all he'll find will be a note. We'll meet him at the cemetery for the funeral, and he'll see with his own eyes that you're not so fragile.”
