by Amy Cross
Almost as if she's listening to an answer.
“Okay,” she adds finally. “I didn't realize that. That changes things.”
She falls silent again, but this time I realize after a moment that I can hear a very faint crackling sound. It's almost as there's some kind of static charge in the air, like the static I heard several times over the phone while Chrissie was missing. And now, as I start making my way around the side of the sofa, and as I edge closer to her back, I realize that the static seems concentrated in the area all around her.
“I thought I did that pretty well,” she says after a moment, clearly unaware that I'm in the room. “It wasn't easy. I had to try several times before I managed to...”
Her voice trails off for a moment.
“Yes,” she continues finally, “I know. I'm sorry. But she's here now. He didn't get it right, but he's gone now and I think I can do a better job.”
Now that I can see her face, I realize her eyes are closed.
“It's nothing,” she adds. “I can do it tonight. I can even -”
Suddenly she stops speaking, and for a moment she remains hunched in the corner. And then, slowly, her eyes start to open.
I take a step back, worried that she might have heard me, but she remains in the corner as if she's still listening to somebody. Her head tilts slightly, and now I'm too far away to hear what she's saying when she starts whispering again. In fact, I think she might have lowered her voice even more.
Finally, figuring that maybe she's somehow sleep-walking, I back out into the hallway and gently pull the door shut. I hesitate for a moment, wondering whether I should try to help her, and then I head over to my bedroom. There's a part of me that feels increasingly worried about Chrissie, and I can't help thinking back to everything Julio told me just a few minutes ago. Then again, Chrissie has always been there for me, no matter what, so I guess I just have to put my fears aside and trust her.
She was probably having some kind of weird waking nightmare, or -
Suddenly I hear a bump over my shoulder.
I turn and look back out into the hallway, and I swear I can hear somebody moving about near the door. A moment later I spot a hand coming into view.
“Chrissie?” I say cautiously, trying to keep from panicking. “Are you okay?”
I wait, but the hand simply remains in place.
And then, a moment later, I watch as the hand slips back out of sight.
I wait a few more seconds, half-expecting a sleep-walking Chrissie to stumble into my room, but now all I hear is silence.
“Hey Chrissie,” I continue, “are you being weird on purpose? 'Cause you're being pretty weird right now.”
No reply.
Sighing, I step forward and then stop in the doorway, and sure enough I see that Chrissie is standing in the dark. She's staring straight at me, but there's a kind of dull expression in his eyes, almost as if she's barely able to stay awake.
“It's really late,” I point out. “I just went out to get some air, that's all. I guess I felt like I was suffocating in here.”
I wait for her to reply, and then I realize that maybe I should just go to bed and let her work through whatever's happening.
“Good night, then,” I say, turning to head back to my bed. “In the morning we can -”
Before I can finish, however, I hear a brief, tell-tale click. I freeze, already trying to tell myself that the sound wasn't what I think it was, but then slowly I look over my shoulder and shudder as I see that Chrissie is now holding a camera up to her face, and that she seems to be watching me through the viewfinder.
“That's not funny,” I tell her. “Chrissie, cut it out. After everything I told you...”
My voice trails off as I stare at the camera, but Chrissie simply continues to watch me.
“Cut it out!” I snap, heading over to her and trying to grab the camera. She's holding it far too tight, however, and after pulling for a few seconds I finally give up and take a step back. “Seriously, Chrissie! Are you trying to freak me out? You know what Patrick Duggan did to me, so stop!”
I wait for a reply, but all I hear is a faint whirring sound from the camera as the pitch-black lens remains focused on my face.
“This is really mean!” I add, struggling to hold back tears. “Why would you do this? What's the -”
Suddenly she takes a step toward me.
I instinctively back away, until I bump against the wall.
“Chrissie, stop!” I say firmly, and then I turn and head back into my room. Glancing over my shoulder and seeing that she's still aiming the camera at me, I hesitate for a moment before slamming the door shut.
I don't know what's wrong with her, but -
Suddenly the door crashes open, hitting the side of my head and sending me thudding down against the bed. As the doorknob slams into the wall, I sit up and see that Chrissie is coming into my room, and she's still staring at me through the camera's viewfinder.
“You need to calm down,” she tells me. “It's not going to be bad, Jess. He's coming to you in a spirit of friendship. He just wants to understand you a little better.”
“What are you talking about?” I stammer, as I reach up and feel a trickle of blood running down the side of my face. “Chrissie...”
“Duggan failed him,” she continues, “but I'm going to do whatever's necessary. Duggan just took too long, but now everything has to happen tonight. He wants to see you through his own eyes, Jess.”
“I'm getting out of here,” I tell her, trying to slip past her, only for her to shove me back against the bed. “Chrissie, you're scaring me! I want to leave!”
“He's spent so long looking at you through camera lenses, Jess. Don't you understand why he wants to see you properly now. He's figured out a way and he's coming, and then you'll understand. Just try to stay strong, and try to listen, and try to understand how he sees the world.”
I clamber off the bed and take a step toward the doorway, but Chrissie blocks my path. Heading back around the bed, I look for my phone, only to realize that it must be out in the front room. Desperately trying to figure out some way to get free, I look around the room for a moment before stopping as I see the tower block outside my window. Just as I'm about to turn away, I realize I can see a flash of light in one of the office rooms, and I realize with a flash of relief that Julio must be making his nightly rounds.
“Help me!” I shout, rushing over to the window and hammering my fists against the glass, even though I know there's no way he'll be able to hear. “Julio!”
Figuring that I need to try something else, I grab the lamp from next to my bed and start frantically switching it on and off, over and over again, hoping that the rapidly blinking light might attract some attention. I keep trying for a few more seconds, before switching the lamp off again and then looking out the window.
I feel a rush of relief as soon as I see Julio staring back at me from the office building.
“Help!” I shout, waving desperately. “Please, you have to help me! You -”
Before I can get another word out, Chrissie grabs me from behind and throws me down to the floor. I land hard, and a crack of pain runs through my arm as I roll onto my side and try to get up. Stumbling past Chrissie, I manage to reach the hallway before she grabs me again. This time she pushes me through to the front room, and I fall again. When I get to my feet, I find that she's blocking my way.
“Why are you doing this?” I shout. “Julio saw you, you know. He knows something's wrong.”
“You've been seen by someone from much further away than that,” she replies, finally lowering the camera. “He thought it would be enough just to observe you. After all, to him, humans are like mayflies. We live and die in the blink of his eye. But now he realizes he has to do more than look at you. He has to meet you. And that's why he's coming tonight.”
“You're crazy,” I reply, not daring to try getting past her yet. “You sound like Patrick Duggan! You sound as crazy an
d insane as Duggan sounded, right before he attacked me!”
“Duggan failed,” she replies, as she sets the camera down. “Duggan didn't have the guts to do this right.”
With that, she turns and looks at the door-frame. She hesitates for a moment, as if something in the wood has caught her attention.
“Chrissie,” I say cautiously, “why not -”
Suddenly she slams her head against the frame, with such force that I hear a horrific splitting sound. She immediately staggers back and lets out an agonized gasp, as she reaches up and touches her face. Blood is pouring from a wound on her forehead, and now her whole body is trembling as she struggles to stay on her feet.
Too shocked to say anything, I watch as blood dribbles to the floor.
And then she does it again.
Letting out an anguished cry, she slams her head against the frame again. The splitting sound is even louder now, and as she pulls back I see that even more blood is running from her head.
“I have to...”
Her voice trails off for a moment.
“I have to... let him in...”
“Chrissie, no!”
She throws herself forward yet again, harder and faster than ever, and her head cracks open as she hits the frame. This time, when she pulls back, she loses her footing and crumples in the doorway, gasping for air as she puts her hands over the wound on her forehead. It's as if she's trying desperately to keep the blood from all pouring out, and after a moment I realize I can hear a faint whimpering sound coming from her lips.
“Chrissie, what are you doing?” I stammer. “I'll call an ambulance!”
I hurry to the doorway, but she immediately gets to her feet and pushes me back. As she does so, she tilts her head to one side and a fresh trickle of blood runs from the gaping crack in her forehead.
I step back against the wall, stunned by the fact that she can even stand.
There's blood all over her face now, but I can just about make out her wild, staring eyes.
“I see you,” she gasps finally, as if she's utterly amazed. “I see you with these.”
Reaching up, she touches her cheeks, and I watch as she moves her fingers up until she smears blood against the whites of her eyes. She starts blinking furiously, but it seems to take a few seconds before she even notices the discomfort. Lowering her hands again, she keeps her gaze fixed on me.
“How do I breathe?” she asks after a moment.
I stare at her, too shocked to reply.
Blood is still running from her face, dribbling against the wooden floor.
“How do I breathe?” she asks again, and this time she places one hand on her chest and the other on her belly. “Tell me. I feel myself running out of air, this body needs to breathe. Tell me how to do it, before it's too late.”
“Please, let me call an ambulance for you,” I whisper, as tears run down my face. “Chrissie...”
“Tell me how to breathe,” she says yet again, and this time her voice sounds harsh and clipped. “There isn't much time, is there? I thought it would be automatic, that I'd pick it up easily, but I don't know how to make it happen.”
“Chrissie...”
“I have watched you for so long,” she continues, suddenly taking a stumbling, unsteady step toward me. “For several minutes, at least. Since you were a little girl, maybe five minutes ago.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The first time was on that motorway bridge, when Patrick Duggan filmed you and I watched through his camera. That was longer ago than five minutes, wasn't it? Maybe ten minutes.”
“That was seventeen years ago,” I point out. “Almost eighteen.”
“Years?” She furrows her brow. “To me, it's mere seconds, but...”
Her voice trails off, after a moment she winces as she moves both her hands down to her belly. She seems to be in pain.
“Tell me how to breathe!” she groans. “I didn't come all this way, I didn't crawl into this human body, just to be defeated by a lack of air. Tell me how to breathe, so I can keep this body going for long enough to stay!”
“Chrissie,” I reply, “I don't know what's wrong with you but -”
Suddenly she lets out a pained gasp. Reaching up, she puts her hands on her throat, and she seems to be struggling to get air into her lungs.
“Tell me!” she gasps. “Help me!”
“Chrissie, you're scaring me!”
“I'm so young!” she continues. “All the others are old, but I was born into the void that exists on the other side of all those camera lenses! I'm so new, and there's so much to learn! How am I supposed to ever understand?”
“Chrissie...”
“Help me breathe!” she screams suddenly, lunging at me and grabbing my shoulders. “Put air into my lungs!”
She presses her open mouth against my lips, as if she wants me to blow into her throat. Pulling away, I feel her blood dribbling down my chin as I stumble across the room. Just as I reach the doorway, however, I hear an anguished, gurgled cry over my shoulder, and Chrissie grabs my arm. I turn just as she lunges against me, pressing her weight against me until I fall through into the hallway and she lands on top of me.
“Help me!” she shouts, spraying my face with blood. “I don't know how to breathe! Help me!”
“Chrissie, please...”
“I can feel this body dying,” she gurgles, her eyes filled with fear. “Three minutes, is that all it can last without air? Tell me how to -”
Suddenly there's a banging sound on the front door.
“Jess, are you okay in there?” Julio calls out. “Jess!”
“Help!” I call out.
“I have waited so long for this moment,” Chrissie continues, staring down at me as more blood dribbles from her open mouth. “It can't end so soon, I can't...”
Her voice trails off, and after a moment she lets out a gurgled groan. Her eyes are wide open now, almost as if they might burst from their sockets at any moment. And then, just as I think the groan might fade to nothing, she slumps down and lands against my chest before rolling off and slumping to the floor.
Desperately gasping for breath, I clamber to my feet and look down at Chrissie's lifeless body.
“Please no,” I whisper, before realizing I can still hear Julio trying to break into the apartment.
I hurry over and un-latch the door, finally allowing him to burst through.
“What the hell's going on here?” he asks.
“She attacked me!” I sob, still staring at Chrissie as I realize she isn't moving. “She was saying all these crazy things!”
Stepping past me, he crouches down and checks for a pulse. As soon as he gets back up and turns to me, I know that he didn't find anything.
“She suffocated,” I continue, feeling a sense of panic starting to rise through my chest. “She couldn't breathe. She didn't know how to breathe.”
“It looks like she suffered a serious head injury,” he points out.
“She did that to herself.”
“Are you serious?”
“She was filming.” I pause for a moment, before rushing into the front room and grabbing the camera. My hands are trembling, but I bring up the playback screen. “I'll show you. She was filming the whole thing, I think she caught it all. If you don't believe me, I -”
“Let's worry about that later,” he replies, grabbing my arm and leading me out into the corridor. “Right now, we're going to go downstairs and -”
“What was that frightful noise?” a voice calls out suddenly.
Turning, I'm shocked to see Doris shuffling out from her apartment along the hallway, with her deaf sister Irene right behind.
I open my mouth to tell them what happened, but suddenly I realize that there's no way I can explain all this madness.
“It's okay,” I stammer, “we just -”
“What's going on out here?” another voice yells, and Eleanor comes out to join her sisters. “Why must I always be woken up
by such a dreadful racket?” She fumbles for the door jamb, while looking in my direction with white eyes. “Who's out here?”
“It's the lady from the next door down,” Doris tells her. “Just go back inside and -”
She stops suddenly, mid-sentence, as if some other thought has rushed into her mind.
“We don't have time for this!” Julio whispers.
“This body is so old,” Doris says suddenly, looking down at her frail, trembling hands. “So much harder to move. Every time I try, there's something that courses through the bones. Is this what pain feels like?”
She lets out a sudden gasp and falls back against the wall.
“And now I can't see!” Eleanor gasps, reaching up to touch her eyes. “What's wrong with -”
“- this one?” Irene adds, finishing the sentence. “No, wait, now I can see, but I can't hear!”
“What's wrong with them?” Julio asks.
“No, please,” I whisper, taking a step toward the three elderly women. “This can't be happening...”
“Now I can see again!” Doris groans. “I just -”
“- feel as if something's going wrong,” Irene continues, “as if -”
“- this body keeps changing,” Eleanor adds. “Why does it keep -”
“- changing,” Doris continues, holding her hands up before looking over at the other two triplets. “Wait, I'm not in one body. I'm in -”
“- three bodies,” Eleanor gurgles, slumping against the wall. “They're so similar, I can't stick to one, I keep slipping from mind to mind as if -”
“- they're too close,” Irene splutters, reaching out and grabbing the arms of her two sisters. For a moment she seems to be trying to steady herself, but then I realize she's actually squeezing their arms tight, as if to check that they're really there. “This is -”
“- too difficult,” Eleanor adds. “I can't stick in one -”
“- at a time,” Irene says, “without -”
“- slipping!” Doris screams, suddenly turning to Irene and grabbing her head, slamming her straight into the wall with a sickening cracking sound. “I just need one of them!”
“What the hell's going on?” Julio asks.
“Three is too many!” Doris groans, smashing Irene's head again. “I only need one body!”
