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The Stolen Twin

Page 21

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)


  I stood by the chipped gray counter filled with a variety of administrative forms, including the class-extension forms, chewing on my bottom lip and stewing, until a series of coughs bubbled up in my chest. Enough. If I had to make a decision of this magnitude, the least I could do is get some nourishment into my body. I wondered if it was too early for a beer.

  No, coffee would be better. And food. No beer, no matter how tempting. Besides I didn’t think the bars were open yet and I certainly wasn’t going to my apartment for a drink. Talk about feeling like a loser – deciding between dropping my classes and asking for extensions over a beer on a Monday morning. That sounded like the beginning of a bad Lifetime movie. I decided a latte and bagel at the Union was a much better choice.

  While waiting in line to pay for my double latte and toasted bagel and cream cheese, I felt someone staring at me. A woman stood across the room, near the table where I dumped my books. Long golden curls drifted past her shoulders, framing pale, delicate features and huge dark blue eyes. Cat. No question about it.

  I tried to sidestep out of line, but a huge man blocked my path. He was in the line next to mine, paying for a tray filled with egg sandwiches, bacon, hash browns, a cinnamon roll and a large cup of coffee. His dark blue sweatshirt stretched painfully across his back. I attempted to weasel past him, but his considerable bulk was wedged between the two cash registers. Cat had started drifting toward the door.

  “Hey, you,” the cashier yelled at me, snapping her gum, as I searched for another way around. “You gonna pay for that or what?”

  I looked at my tray, then back at Cat. She had almost reached the entrance. “Or what.” I deposited my would-be purchases next to the cashier.

  Her mouth shaped into an “O.” She started to say “You can’t do that,” but I was already pushing my way out of line.

  “Wait, Cat,” I yelled, frantic, waving my arms. “Wait.”

  But she had already drifted away. I caught a glimpse of her long curls floating in a sea of backpacks and winter coats – then she was gone.

  I fought my way past a Middle-Eastern man balancing a tray filled with food and books, past a couple of African-American women collecting napkins and silverware, and sprinted to the door. Of course, there was no sign of her. I ran all the way to the entrance, searching everywhere, even peering outside, but no luck. She had vanished – disappeared into void, leaving no trace of her presence. Like a fairy.

  Actually, that turned out to be not entirely true. When I returned, I found a crisply folded note sitting on top of my backpack. Picking it up, I smelled freshly cut grass and wildflowers. Just a hint, incongruous against the odors of hamburgers, burritos, beer and smoke.

  I unfolded the sheet of paper. Two photos slid out and fell to the floor. I saw a flash of blond hair, a bright smile, before they skidded under the table.

  Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. My chest ached, excruciatingly tight, my lungs squeezed by a giant hand.

  Photos. Dare I look? Did I even want to know?

  My hand crept toward the photos as my knees buckled beneath me. Kneeling down, my fingers curled around the edges of the photos, the texture smooth and glossy beneath my fingertips. I pulled them toward me.

  Blond hair. Blue eyes. Huge smile for the camera.

  Cat. As a child.

  I went cold, my hands numb, ice emanating from the photo.

  Closing my eyes, I took deep breaths, struggling not to cough, willing myself to stay calm. After a few moments, my breathing steadied. I forced my eyes to open, to better examine the photos.

  It wasn’t Cat. Not even close.

  I stared at the photos, perplexed. Someone must have switched them when my eyes were closed. That could be the only explanation.

  Oh, God. I can’t believe I just thought that. I burst out laughing, toppling over, tears springing to my eyes. It’s official – I had lost it. Both paranoid and hallucinating. What a piece of work. I laughed so hard I started coughing.

  It took awhile to get my breathing back under control. Once I quit laughing, I had to deal with the coughing. But, eventually I managed it, even with all the furtive, cautious looks people kept shooting me. Yep, another student succumbs to the pressure of college life, those expressions said.

  If they only knew the truth.

  I got up from the floor and sat in the chair, wishing I had that latte. But there was no way I’d face that cashier again. She would probably spit in it while I dug my money out to pay.

  I laid the photos on the table, then realized I still clutched the paper they had been wrapped in with my other hand. Unfolding it, I laid the paper next to the photos.

  Kit Cat. Take a look at that.

  Tick Tock. Time is almost out.

  The words had been torn from a magazine, resembling a ransom note. Made sense. My peace of mind had been kidnapped – naturally, I would need to answer a ransom note to get it returned – hopefully intact.

  Back to the photos. The girl was young, seven or eight, with blond hair and blue eyes. That’s about where the resemblance to Cat ended. This girl had a thin, sharp face, pale skin and a slight overbite. She was pretty, but pretty in a waif-like, wispy way – not like Cat’s soft, golden beauty.

  One photo showed the girl close up, smiling, a posed studio shot. The second had been taken outside. An older woman accompanied her, holding her hand as they walked away from a building. The girl wore a little black coat and a red and white striped hat. Her bony wrists poked out from the too-short sleeves. She had turned her head, staring up at the woman. The woman also wore a black coat, which matched her black curly hair and black-rimmed glasses. Her mouth was set in a straight line. She wasn’t looking at the child, rather she stared at her feet as she seemed to yank the poor girl along.

  I pushed the photo away. I didn’t want to look at it anymore. It made me uncomfortable and edgy. I didn’t like that woman, nor did I like the way she dragged that poor little girl with those horribly thin wrists.

  Oh for God’s sake, I had to stop this. I had enough things in my life making me uncomfortable and edgy – I certainly didn’t need to be reading things into a photo left by some woman claiming to be my kidnapped sister. She was probably some nutcase working with David to try and drive me crazy.

  Suddenly exhausted, I sank down in my seat. I buried my face into my arms and alternated between pretending the world was normal – I had never gone to that stupid Halloween party in the first place, much less met David or seen Cat – and that the world had disappeared into nothingness.

  ***

  I spent the rest of the day trudging around campus in search of my professors. After my earlier “face-to-face” with insanity, I no longer had any doubt about what I needed to do. Although I still didn’t feel comfortable asking for extensions, I thought I would have better luck convincing my professors than the dean of students. The dean may already know about the restraining order, but university bureaucracy probably hadn’t moved fast enough to attach the restraining order to the complaint, if my professors even called to check.

  Actually, my professors were quite sympathetic (about time somebody was!). They all granted me extensions without a fuss. Even the professor whose exam I had just flunked told me I could retake it whenever I felt up to it. She actually treated me like I was the victim in the situation. What a concept.

  To be fair, I think my coughing and general sad state of health helped my cause. I could honestly claim that the stress of being stalked had caused my illness. Although I didn’t mention CF, I knew I looked horrible.

  I decided not to approach my eighteenth century lit professor. He had just given me an extension on my paper – I didn’t want to press my luck. I just shoved my paper under his door and slunk away. After all, I reasoned, I now only had one class, his class, to concentrate on. I could do it.

  I stopped at the Tavern for dinner – a cup
of chili topped with cheese and onions, and a cheeseburger with all the works and onion rings – before heading for home. Except for some snacky foods, I hadn’t eaten much all day.

  By the time I started walking, dusk had fallen, along with the temperature. I wrapped my scarf around my neck, protecting it from the bitter cold wind, and broke into a trot.

  Long shadows stretched out across the sidewalk. I jumped as a flier advertising a bar band called Meat Locker flapped loudly – it hadn’t been attached well to the side of the building. Another flier flew across the street, this one announcing some sort of peace rally, the dry rattling noise sinister and eerie. A man wearing a bright red ski jacket brushed against my arm as he ran past. I caught a glimpse of wild hair and equally wild eyes before he vanished into the night.

  All right. I needed to get a hold of myself. At this rate, I would never make it home – instead I would be found crouched in the doorway of some building, eyes darting and body jumping.

  Squaring my shoulders, I focused my eyes straight ahead and sped up my pace. I forced my mind to empty, concentrating only on my pace and destination.

  My face felt numb, my lips chapped and dry. It would be good to get inside and out of the cold, I thought. Never mind the rest.

  Finally my apartment came into view. Coughing only slightly, I increased my stride. Almost there.

  “Hello, Kit.”

  I let out a short scream. A man stepped out from the shadows of the neighboring putrid green rental house.

  Instinctively I backed away, ashamed of having screamed. It was probably Brad or someone else from the football team. No one to be scared of. “Who’s there?”

  “You mean you can’t recognize my voice?” The man replied, his voice teasing. I took another step backward, slimy tendrils starting to curl around my stomach. The man continued toward me, the light from the street lamp slanting across his face.

  David.

  I suddenly became aware of just how desolate it was. Where was everyone? “What are you doing here?” I croaked. “You have a restraining order against me. Why are you outside my apartment?”

  He cocked his head. “Why, I do! That means you have to leave.” His voice still had that teasing quality to it.

  The hairs against the back my neck started to squirm furiously. Something wasn’t right. I mean, really not right. I made myself stop retreating. “What the hell are you talking about? I can’t leave my own apartment.”

  “Didn’t you read the fine print? If I show up in a public place, you have to leave.”

  God, is that what it said? “My apartment isn’t a public place.”

  He spread his arms out wide. “We’re not at your apartment. This certainly is a public place.” His voice went up, the teasing continuing. With horror, I finally realized what I had been sensing. He was using the teasing to hide something else in his voice, something darker, more sinister.

  Madness.

  “Fine.” I started to stride past him, refusing to let him see the terror threatening to seize my limbs. I couldn’t let him sense any weakness. Like a predator, he would pounce.

  He stayed in front of me, still in that teasing mode, preventing me from passing.

  I stopped, folded my arms. “Can’t leave the area if you won’t let me.”

  He pointed behind me. “You can go that way.”

  I bit my lip. Could he smell my fear? Now what do I do? The words darted through my brain – the best defense is good offense. Besides, most predators back off if the prey attacks them. I forced myself to take several steps forward, to get right into his face. “Just because you have a restraining order doesn’t mean you can tell me where I can go. So, get out of my way.”

  He clapped his hand against his chest and staggered back a step. “Oh, Kit. You break my heart. Can’t we put this behind us and start again?”

  A shadow covered his eyes. I desperately wished I could see them. Maybe then I would know if I had only imagined the madness I was hearing, or if it was real. “David, as I already told you, we’re done,” I said with more bravado then I felt. “I don’t want anything more to do with you. In fact, since you have me saying that on tape, why don’t you go home and watch it over and over again until you get the picture?”

  His face grew still. “There’s no need to get nasty, Kit.”

  Oh, God, did I push too far? Too late to back off now. I had to keep this charade up or he really would see my terror. “Me, nasty? You’re the one who put the restraining order on me.”

  “That was only because you filed complaints against me.”

  I held my hands up. “Fine. We were both wronged. Now, would you please step out of my way so I can go home?”

  His jaw worked, but he didn’t move. I stayed where I was. What would I do if he didn’t get out of my way? Could I get my pepper spray in time? Or would it come down to a physical fight? Did I even have a chance against him?

  The wind had died down, the night growing more still, more silent. Keenly aware of just how alone we were, I struggled to control my breathing. How did he always pick the times when I was alone? Did he have a sixth sense about it?

  After what seemed like forever, he stepped aside and gave me a playful flourish. I closed my eyes, my breath wanting to rush out of me in a whoosh, but I restrained it. I hadn’t realized I had been holding it until then.

  I nodded at him and started forward. Not too fast, I warned myself.

  He fell into step beside me. “I really wish you’d be more open about talking things out.”

  Oh, God. I increased my pace. “David, has it occurred to you that ambushing me outside my apartment isn’t helping your stalking case?”

  He flung his hands out. “Who’s seen me?”

  Oh, God. Oh, God. The silence was agonizingly loud in my ears. Where was everyone? Why couldn’t one person appear, just one? Maybe he had some sort of supernatural powers gifted to him by the fairies. Maybe that’s why Cat knew about him. The fairies had kidnapped him, too. Oh, God, stop it. I was a heartbeat away from hysterics. I forced my eyes straight ahead. My apartment building was the next one. Almost there. My chest tightened even more, but I had to stay calm. I needed to buy time. “Are you sure no one has seen you, David?”

  “I am. And I know what you’re doing right now, because I know you.” His voice dropped, became intimate. “I know you better than you know yourself, Kitrina.”

  I wouldn’t let myself look at him. “Nobody calls me that.”

  “Why? It’s a beautiful name.”

  I didn’t answer. We were in front my apartment building, just steps away from the walkway leading to my door.

  “You know what else I know about you, Kitrina?” He leaned closer, his foul breath grazing my cheek. “I know you like knives.”

  I snapped my head around. His face was close, close enough to kiss me, but still his eyes lurked in the shadows. His stinking breath nearly overwhelmed me.

  “Get away from me.” I tried to sound menacing, but my voice shook and I coughed. His lips curled into a smile.

  “Got your attention, didn’t I?”

  I glanced at his hands. They were empty.

  For now.

  I started up the walkway, David matching my step, stride-for-stride.

  “David, I mean it. Leave me alone,” I said, my voice firmer. My hand crept toward my purse.

  “Why? You came after me with a knife. What’s so different now?”

  Oh, God. This was so out of control. My hand dipped into my purse, frantically searching for a weapon as my eyes stayed glued to his hands. Why wouldn’t he stop walking with me? I coughed again. My hand found my wallet.

  “Bye, David. We’re on my property now.”

  He cocked his head. “What are you doing?”

  “Searching for my keys.” My fingers scrambled furiously. Nothing, nothing. Wh
y couldn’t I find something? My hand closed around my cell phone. No good, he would never give me enough time to use it. I touched a pen. Would that work? Could I actually use it as a weapon?

  We neared my door, David continuing to walk right next to me. Oh, God. I had to stop this before we reached my apartment. I couldn’t take the chance he would force his way inside after I unlocked the door. Taking two quick steps forward, I whirled to face him then stopped, putting my free hand against his chest, my other hand still in my purse. “We’re done here. It’s time for you to go. Now.”

  He kept moving, pushing me backward. “What if I don’t want to?” His eyes caught a sliver of light and they gleamed.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. My fingers brushed against my wallet again. “Well, you could always stick around until the police arrive and then explain how you’re so terrified of me that you followed me home.”

  He looked disgusted. “The police aren’t coming, Kit. I expected more from you.” He cocked his head. “Need help finding your keys?”

  My fingers grazed against plastic. Finally. Oh, shit, no. That’s my inhaler. I backed up. “No, I’m just fine. Just leave.”

  He took another step forward. “I can hear them in there. Why don’t I help you?”

  My fingers curled around a cylinder. I found it. My pepper spray. I whipped it out. “Why don’t you just go?”

  He stopped, hands outstretched, still empty. “Whaddya got there?” The teasing note was back in his voice. I stepped toward him, my other hand grabbing my keys.

  “Leave right now, or you’ll find out.”

  He backed up. “Interested in adding an assault and battery charge to your restraining order?”

  “It won’t be assault and battery because we’re on my property,” I said through gritted teeth, pulling my keys out, stifling a cough.

  “You don’t own it.”

  I moved away from him, toward the door. “No, but I rent it, you asshole. And if you’re smart, you’ll get out of here fast, because the first thing I’m doing when I get inside is calling the police.”

 

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