by J. A. Howell
“Shit!” I squeezed my eyes shut. Not real. My heart thudded heavily in my chest as my hands gripped the edge of the sink.
You're just tired Harley, everything is fine, nothing is there. It’s just you.
I tried to coax my heartbeat back to a normal rhythm. Slowly my breathing calmed and I chanced opening one eye just in time to see an odd ripple move across the bathroom mirror as my eyes returned to their normal deep blue color.
No, it’s just in your head Harley. I sucked in a deep breath as I stared down my own reflection-- blue eyes, light bronze skin, wavy black hair.
It’s just me here. Just me.
Gradually, I regained composure, though I no longer felt as ready for sleep as I had earlier. I quickly brushed my teeth and hurried out of the bathroom, making sure to avoid the mirror as I exited. Pulling back the comforter on my bed, I wasted no time burrowing underneath the sheets. I refused to look at the mirror in my bedroom. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone might be watching me from the other side. But that was impossible, right?
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The familiar sound of dishes being dunked under a running faucet as they clinked together pulled me from my bed once more. This has to be a dream. With a heavy sigh, I slowly rolled out of the comfort of my bed. My feet dragged beneath me as I rounded the corner and walked into the living room. There she stood. Same girl. Same blue eyes. Same black hair. I cursed under my breath as I staggered through the living room, still groggy with sleep as I kept my eyes on her.
Her arms moved in the sink, scrubbing a stack of dishes that were submerged in the soapy water. Her hair covered most of her face and she seemed to be mumbling to herself as she tirelessly scrubbed. Even as I came up behind her, she was still oblivious to my presence. Just like before.
“What the hell are you doing in my kitchen again?” I grumbled, one hand reaching up to rub sleep out of my eyes. She heard me this time and her constant motion slowed to a halt as her head lifted up slightly, but she didn't answer. “Seriously, what the hell are you doing?”
Without warning her shoulders crumpled forward and her whole body shook with sobs. I gritted my teeth as I watched her crying over the sink. I don't need to deal with this crap. This is a stupid dream. She still made no motion to move nor respond to me and, after a minute, I stepped closer, placing my hand on her shoulder.
“What’s the matter?” She didn’t answer, instead her shoulder slacked under my touch as her hand shot up and fingers clamped around my wrist.
“I'm sorry!” Her voice cried out suddenly as she whirled on me. I stumbled backwards, falling onto the floor as I tried to pull my arm free.
“Let go of me!” I tried desperately to pry her fingers from my wrist, but her grip only tightened. I slid back on the parquet floor, my legs poised and ready to kick at this deranged figment of my imagination. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Harley, it's just a dream. Just a stupid dream like last time.
Even as I told myself that, the pressure grew around my wrist and her nails dug into my skin as she pulled herself toward me.
“Did you hear me, honey? I said I’m sorry!”
“I don't know you!” I kicked at her and she fell forward, landing on top of me.
“Will you just look at me, please?” She whimpered quietly as her breath tickled my neck.
Dammit... Maybe if I just do what she says, she will go away.
After a second I looked up at her. Her blue eyes, slightly lighter than my own, peered into mine with a deep forlornness. I stared back, wishing she would just disappear and I would wake up.
“There, I’m looking at you. What the hell do you want from me?”
“I'm sorry, Brody.” Her lips pouted as a few tears trickled from her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Who’s Brody?” I wrinkled my forehead, only further confused as she bent her head down on my chest and let out a huge sob. Ughhh.
“It's fine, just stop crying!” I began to plead with her, but her cries were cut short as her body went rigid. Ugh, what now? I pried my wrist from her stiffened grip and her body rolled off of me, completely lifeless as she lay face down on the floor. I gently nudged her side with my foot. No movement.
“This isn’t real. You’re not real.”
I shook my head as I squeezed my eyes shut again, but when I opened them, the girl was still laying there, slumped over and unmoving. Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward and pushed her hair away from her neck to check her pulse. Just as my fingers touched the ice cold skin on her neck, her head lulled towards me and the black tresses fell away from her face. Nausea immediately rose from my stomach at the sight of her fogged over pupils. Her lips were purple, her skin was white with a sickly blue tinge and sunken in around one cheek bone. Her other cheek was smashed in, gaping with raw tissue. Bits of white bone fragments protruded through the gore. The skin around one eye looked like it had been picked at and torn away. I could see animal-like teeth marks in the jagged, torn, flesh and a bloody stump was all that was left of her nose. I turned away from her, clutching my stomach.
“This isn’t real, Harley! This isn’t real!” I shook my head as I slid myself over the kitchen floor, back against the cabinets. My body convulsed as I reached for the countertop and felt bile rise in my throat. I wanted to get as far away from her as I could, but sickness won over as I fell forward and wretched.
My hand reached for the back of my head as it banged against the cabinet when I awoke. I scrambled to my feet, my eyes frantically searching my kitchen for any signs of the woman’s frozen corpse. Nothing. Another fucking dream. I resumed rubbing the back of my head where a small bump was already starting to form.
Did I sleepwalk out here? I looked around the kitchen once more, but the only thing out of place seemed to be me. No dishes in the sink. My painting still sat on the windowsill, undisturbed where I had left it to dry. I rubbed my wrists, though they didn't hurt. They should have with how she held onto them. I examined them but there were no bruises, just a partial hand print left in dried paint. My breath caught as I stared at it.
No, it was a dream. You must have missed it when you were washing your hands. I took a few deep breaths. Dream or not, an uneasy feeling still loomed as I tried to gain my bearings. My neck ached, as did the rest of my body. How long had I been sleeping on the floor? The clock read twelve noon. No time to actually rest before work. Great.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Haunted
My mind felt like it was twisting in knots as I tried to rationalize the dream of that girl. Why was I dreaming about her again? Maybe it was just my brain mashing up memories of people I’d seen or images from a movie. It had to be a coincidence. There wasn't any other explanation I could think of. My eyes are playing tricks on me, I’m just scaring myself. The apartment is fine. Try as I might, my silent pep talk did nothing to lift my mood.
My body was tired as I walked toward Finley’s, but at least the bump on the back of my head was now only a dull ache. My hair laid over my back and shoulders, still damp. You should have at least dried your hair, I scolded myself. My teeth chattered as the wind whipped through my wet locks, the skin on my neck pricking up from the mixture of wet hair and a cold fall breeze.
I turned the corner and Finley's came into view. My shoulders tightened at the thought of seeing Nolan, especially like this – damp, disheveled hair and dark circles under my eyes. I looked like the walking dead. I stood at the corner and dug out my compact, hastily putting on enough concealer to at least lighten the marks on my face and the dark circles before proceeding.
I still didn't know what to make of Nolan or the way he acted around me. I wanted to like him, but there was something hidden beneath the surface that made me wary. He seemed like a nice guy, but there was something about the way I caught him watching me, like he stared at me in the park. There was something veiled in those eyes of his and whatever it was, he wasn't open to discussing it. He made that clear with his s
wift exit after our breakfast in the park.
As I the reached door of Finley's, Krista, one of the other waitresses, was attempting to pull out the sidewalk sign. I grabbed the door for her and she tumbled past me, smiling and mouthing a “thank you” before the breeze blew her platinum blonde hair out of her face. The poor girl did not seem cut out for waitressing. She was a freshman at Midtown University, and obviously the working world as well. A skinny, kind-hearted girl with freckles on her nose and absolutely no coordination. Since I'd been working here she'd easily broken one plate a day and spilled drinks on at least five customers. She was friendly and cute though, so people were generally forgiving.
I let the door swing shut behind me and continued toward the back of the pub. As soon as Aggie saw me she tipped her head forward and examined me with an intense stare.
“Jesus Harley, you look like shit.” She wasted no time with pleasantries. Better to be blunt and to the point, I suppose.
“I had a rough night.” I huffed, sliding off my jacket and hanging it on the same hook as my bag. Aggie shook her head in response. After I'd tied my apron around my waist she grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the restrooms. She stopped in front of the set of mirrors and reached into the purse hanging across her body. After one final assessment of my haggard appearance, she tossed a small make-up bag, a hairbrush, and extra hair-ties onto the counter.
“Spill.” She commanded from behind me, the brush tugging my hair back as she ran it through the knotted mess.
“I just had a bad dream. Probably from being in a new place, you know?”
“Ooookay. So what was the dream about?” She raised an eyebrow as she peered over my shoulder. Her fingers worked quickly, twisting my long hair into a braid and leaving a few loose strands to frame my face.
“I saw a girl in my kitchen. She sort of looked like me, though a bit thinner and paler, complexion-wise. She just kept crying and yelling at me.” I scrunched my nose, remembering her hands squeezing my wrists.
“That is definitely weird.” Aggie nodded thoughtfully.
“I saw her the first night I moved into my apartment too. But in that dream she kissed me. This time she just called me, Brody.” The brush clattered against the floor as it fell out of Aggie’s hand and I raised my eyes to meet hers in the mirror. They were wide and panicked, and her mouth was open slightly. After a moment, she shook her head, pulling her mouth shut.
“Harley, where is your apartment?”
“It's an old brick five-story apartment building off of Flagstone.” I answered, my voice hesitant.
“What apartment number?”
“Three thirty-three.”
“Are you kidding me, Harley?”
“What?” I spun around to look at her.
“You need to move out of there. Did the landlord tell you about that apartment?” Aggie grasped my shoulders tightly, a look of pure horror in her green eyes.
“Well yeah...some guy killed himself there.”
“And you still moved in?!” Aggie's voice went up an octave, her eyebrows following suit as she jostled me. I let out a sigh, turning away from her. I didn't like feeling like a scolded child.
“Listen, I didn't have a lot of options. The apartment was cheap, with utilities included. I don't believe in shit like ghosts, so I'm sure it's just some weird coincidence that I am seeing this girl.” I knew I didn't sound the least bit convincing, but I refused to give in to that possibility. Ghosts were something my hippie-dippie mother believed in. Not me.
“Sorry…it’s just –” Aggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “When you can, I really suggest you move.” she said quietly, before gently nudging me to turn to her. I studied her while she dabbed color on my lips and cheeks. I got the impression there was more she wanted to say but for some reason she just couldn’t get it out. It didn’t seem like simple fear of some local urban legend. It went deeper than that. Sadness flickered through her green eyes as she put the rest of her makeup away then forced a smile across her lips. “All done.”
I couldn’t keep my mind off of the conversation with Aggie. As soon as we left the bathroom she was her normal cheerful self. But a few times throughout the day I saw that same, sad look when she thought nobody was watching. I considered talking to Nolan, but he barely managed a “hi” when he walked in later that afternoon and resumed his usual post in his office.
“Miss? Did you get my order?” The annoyance in my customer's voice pulled me back from my thoughts. Had I really just been standing here, spacing out in front of a customer? Yep...sure had.
“I'm sorry sir, it's a little loud in here. Could you repeat that?” I asked, my pen poised over the order pad. The man narrowed his eyes with a look of disdain and grumbled something under his breath before repeating his order to me. I read it back before offering an apologetic smile and disappearing into the kitchen.
“Eli, I need a cheeseburger, medium-well, no onions.” I called out as I clipped the order slip over the prep station. He acknowledged my request with a nod and a wink before slapping another raw patty onto the grill. Satisfied, I pushed through the swinging door then squeezed past Aggie manning the bar. She handed me a glass and resumed pouring shots for a group of grungy, lanky barely legals that seemed to be enamored with her bartending skills. Or her boobs. Probably both.
I pulled the tap to a dark lager and looked over my shoulder to see my customer glaring at me as his fingers rapped against the lacquered tabletop. Seriously? I turned my attention back to the tap as the foamy head reached the rim of the glass.
“Order up,” Eli shouted from the back and slid the plate over the counter toward me. I grabbed a clean tray and carefully set the beer and the steaming dish on it before I headed back towards Mr. Grumpy. His cold stare bore holes through me as I walked toward him and his fingers still drummed against the table in an impatient staccato. I plastered the most pleasant smile I could manage on my face, knowing it would have zero effect on his satisfaction with my waiting abilities.
“Watch out!” A voice yelled to the left of me. I turned to see who they were talking to, but it was too late. A white cue ball flew at my head before I could duck out of the way.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rogue CueBall
“Harley? Harley are you okay?” Cold water dripped in my eyes as Aggie's voice hovered over me. I blinked the water away and looked up to see her staring down at me.
“Yeah, I'm...what happened?” I attempted to sit up, but Aggie's hand pressed on my shoulder, holding me to the floor.
“Careful.” She urged me. She glanced up toward my customer’s table and my eyes followed her gaze as I realized Mr. Grumpy was now standing, his beet red face in Nolan's as a stream of obscenities came spewing out of his mouth. Nolan's back was to us, but I could see the muscles in his shoulders and neck tighten and shift. He squeezed his hands into fists as if to keep them from wrapping around the man's neck.
“That bitch hasn't been paying attention to her job since I got here. It's her own damned fault she got hit. Now what the fuck am I going to do with my food all over the floor?” The man flailed his arm at the spilt food and took a step closer to Nolan.
“Honestly, I don’t care what ya do with it. Nobody talks about one of my staff like that, so yer free ta leave.” Nolan stood straight, his six-foot frame towering over the puffy middle-aged man.
“This place really has gone to shit since your father turned it over to you. At least he knew how to hire good help.” The man grumbled as he slipped on his coat. “He should have known better than to let his criminal of a son run this place.”
Wait, what?
Aggie's hand tightened on my shoulder and I looked up to ask her what was wrong but she only shook her head at me. Her eyes were glued to the scene in front of us as Nolan cocked his head to the side and rolled a shoulder back. From my angle, I could see his jaw clench as he raised his fist.
“Nolan, it’s not worth it.” Aggie’s voice snapped him out of it and he
turned toward us, blinking for a moment before turning back to the man.
“If ya don't walk out of my pub in the next five seconds, I’ll carry yer miserable arse out myself.” From his earlier display, it wasn’t an idle threat. He stepped closer to the man and gripped the back of a chair to restrain himself. The puffy man went to speak again but thought better of it and turned, heading straight for the exit. Nolan stood still, his eyes staring at him as he scurried out onto the sidewalk. It wasn't until he was out of view that Nolan’s grip loosed and he turned back towards us. His expression immediately softened as he knelt down to look over me.
“She'll be fine, Nolan. She's got a doozy of a lump forming and might have a concussion though.” Aggie answered authoritatively, as if she had seen injuries of a similar nature occur in her days at the pub. You never know when a rogue cue ball will strike...or when a drunken idiot gets a hold of a pool stick, I thought.
“I'm fine you two. Really.” I tried to sound convincing, though two head injuries in one day was probably pushing my limit.
“I'll take her ta get checked out.” Nolan told Aggie as he slid a hand under my shoulder.
“I said I’m fine!”
“Harley, even if ya think yer fine, as yer employer I’m held liable if ya get hurt here. Just let me take ya ta get looked at real quick.” He frowned at me. I shrugged in defeat and let he and Aggie pull me to my feet. The room tilted slightly, but I didn't dare tell them that. “Bring her out the back entrance ta my car.” Nolan told Aggie before he disappeared into the kitchen.
“You guys are making a big deal out of nothing. I’m completely fine.”
“Fine my arse.” She mumbled, throwing me a sideways glance as I stumbled next to her. I rolled my eyes but quickly realized it wasn’t the best idea when you’re already dizzy.
