Page 5 of Beneath the Watching

I’d met Al through Madison while we were in private high school, and things evolved from there. My current life hadstillplaced me in a doll-like status, just with the added benefit of occasional affection.

After I’d left my last foster family I found myself in another situation where I felt like a roadblock to what the people around me really wanted. The family would’ve let me stay, they’d half-heartedly said, but I knew it was time to move on. Other childrenneeded the empty bedroom, and I couldn’t deny they didn’t want me there.

Al hadn’t seemed to have wanted a serious, permanent relationship based on love when we made our agreement, just as I didn’t. We’d both said we only wanted the security the arrangement would bring, so it’d been perfect. He’d never pushed me for more.

He had told me he felt like he’d never meet "the one,” and I’d felt the same way. It reminded me of the old joke, “if we’re still single at thirty-five, we’ll marry,” that people sometimes tossed around. In our case, Al was that age, and I was under thirty.

Our arrangement worked fine until it didn’t. My boyfriend appeared to have strong feelings toward my best friend, if the way his face lit up when he saw her was any indication.

The knowledge that one of my closest friends would possibly be sleeping with my boyfriend stung. The bitterness felt unjustified in light of my lack of romantic feelings for the man and I was left considering the principle of their possible deception. If she was truly a good friend, she wouldn’t dream of hurting me in this manner.

Madison had no clue Al and I weren’t the same type of couple as her and James, so for all she knew, we were madly in love. Al and I did a great job of pretending.

It was something I should have discussed with Al but that was a door I didn’t want opened. Risking my friendship with my best friend was unfathomable even though the possibility existed she was risking her friendship with me. It was wrong, all of it was wrong—but I could live with it for now. I knew I should care more, but I just didn’t.

It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that Al or I would end up wanting more from a relationship and become dissatisfied with what we’d agreed to. Everything had been going smoothly until now. Why did Stefan have to point it out?

My tumultuous thoughts were swept under the rug as I knocked on the door. Al opened it, cellphone cradled on his shoulder, crystal tumbler in hand. He ruffled my hair before settling on one of the sofas. He’d booked a suite, as he regularly did, and I wandered off to find the bedroom.

A bag containing a soft shirt and pair of leggings sat on the comforter. For all of Al’s likely indiscretions with Madison, he was very considerate. He even had a bottle of water and bag of dried banana chips sitting on the nightstand in case I was hungry.

He was deserving of love, but the chemistry wasn’t there, and we’d given up working on a physical relationship a long time ago. The thought of his flaccid dick coming anywhere near me made bile rise in the back of my throat.

No one on the outside had noticed the dynamic between Al and Madison other than Stefan. If others had, surely, they would’ve spoken up? Right?

Thinking of Stefan caused my skin to warm; the memory of his hand on my leg and his strokes between my thighs reminded me of everything I went without and everything I could’ve had.

There was no way I could fault Al for looking outside our relationship. I’d existed happily with the absence of intimacy until Stefan went and ruined it, reminding me of what I was missing.

I’d had a couple boyfriends when I was younger, and I’d been attracted to them and experienced some enjoyment of their bodies, but I was never enough for them. Not responsive enough, not interesting enough, found lacking in some esoteric way. It was like I was justthere. I was useful—until I wasn’t, my entire life.

Ready for bed, I climbed under the covers, alone. I rolled onto my side and slid my hands under my pillow. Was this really how I wanted to live? I wanted to feel something,anythingforsomeone else and have it returned,rather than the insidious apathy that clung to me like a mustard stain.

When my emotions threatened to affect me and draw out the things I didn’t want to deal with, I had the uncanny and very convenient capability of burying those feelings so deep they couldn’t hurt me. I’d been indulging in a lot of that lately. I tossed and turned until sleep finally swept me under, the sound of Al on the phone in the other room fading away as I did the same.

I woke up shivering and stretched my arm to grab the comforter. Right away, I realized something was wrong.

Tilting my head, I looked up and saw strings of Christmas lights strewn across the ceiling. Confused, I rolled over and when I pressed down, instead of feeling the soft mattress under my fingertips, my palms were in pine needles and snow.

What the fuck.

Brushing the debris from my hands, I stood up. It wasn’t holiday decorations above me, I realized, it was the night sky. Stars and a full, oversized, bright moon centered within what appeared to be the Milky Way hung over my head. It was gorgeous.

Quickly, I realized I was wherever my friend Kiara had been transported to the night she drank some of the old wine. The stars had looked just like this, and I could’ve sworn it was the same type of snow due to the unnatural brightness.

This scene wasn’t flickering or disappearing like it had before, it was as solid as anywhere else I’d ever been. Twisting around, I scanned the landscape. I was all alone. There were no shadowy, cloaked figures hiding in the tree line, no footsteps crunching through the snow.

Bending over, I grabbed a handful of the fluffy white particles. It was so clean and pure it almost hurt my eyes while itmelted in my palm. When I went to dry my hands on my clothes, I realized I was still in my pajamas.

Why did Kiara get a fancy dress, and I was trapped in shorts and a T-shirt? As usual, I was overlooked. I knew it shouldn’t have bothered me, yet it did. It felt like the universe took every opportunity it could to remind me I didn’t matter. I sucked in a deep breath. Feeling sorry over my outfit wouldn’t change a thing, it was a complete waste of energy.

The landscape around me wasn’t evolving as I’d expected it to. In the abandoned house where I’d watched the scene transition, it’d taken only a couple seconds for everything to go back to normal. It couldn’t have been the wine inducing the phenomenon as I’d previously assumed. That knowledge sent a shudder through me I couldn’t blame on the cold.

I hadn’t touched the bottle that night when we’d encourage Kiara to drink. I’d briefly considered the glittering alcohol responsible, but then it didn’t make any sense. My friend had drunk some, but I hadn’t gotten any in my mouth until the day I’d shattered the glass container. I’d seen this place before a single drop had ever touched me.

Spurred by the freezing air I began walking, wondering how long it would take for me to be back in my hotel bed. The chilly air was a bit too much so I headed for the woods, hoping the tree cover could keep some of the cold and bruising wind at bay.

It was difficult to discern for certain, but where I’d found myself looked different than the place I’d seen before. The pines seemed closer together, the forest denser, and there was less of a clearing in the center where I’d woken up. It was possible the vision had distorted my perception of the area. I hadn’t been as fully involved as I was now. That experience had been like watching a movie.

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