Page 13 of Monstrous

I’ve only got a second left, and instead of hesitating, I take a page out of his book. I scream and sprint back into the bank straight toward the bathroom. Throwing the lock shut and immediately turning on the water and shoving my face directly beneath the stream.

I can’t.

I can’t do this.

I can’t stay and try to pretend I hadn’t just gotten almost kidnapped…and then saved by three monsters. Lightheaded, I grip the sides of the sink to steady myself when my knees lock and I want to fall over. A swell of nausea rises in my belly along with heat on the back of my neck, heralding a trip to the porcelain throne.

Holding myself together takes a lot of work but I don’t puke, thankfully. The cold water cascades over my overheated skin.

A series of knocks sounds against the door followed by the faint voice of my bank manager. “Marianna? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks.

Once I finally manage to get the lock flipped open and push the door, she’s able to see me and just how fucking freaked I really am. It’s enough to convince her I’m done for the day, and since my drawer is already balanced, she lets me go straight home. Krista watches me, her own face pale, and that’s how I know I must look exceptionally bad.

A near attack will do those things to a person.

I’m scared, gripping the wheel to the point where I can’t feel my fingers the entire drive back to the apartment. Okay, so it’s not likely the kidnapper will get me while I’m in the car. But every person I pass on the street is him until I blink and see them for who they really are.

Then I realize I’m really going out of my mind and press the foot down on the gas to get home faster.

Every time I stop at a light or a sign, it is another chance for the guy to jump in the car and finish what he started.

Why he’s after me? I have no idea. I don’t want to stop and think about it.

The second I’m home I head for the sketchbook, quickly trying to get down on paper what I’d seen before nerves cast a fog over their images. Those three shadows. The way they shift…I know I’ll never be able to capture the fluidity of their movements. But if I can get even the barest hint of a description down, it will help me understand things a little better. I’m sure of it.

Charcoal, I decide. It’s messy but the best medium for capturing the fluid way they seemed to form and then dissolve, constantly changing shape. The way they twist and bend moving with an ethereal—

I smudge the line I just got down, growling under my breath when it doesn’t look right. Fueled by the fading adrenaline and my own fraying nerves.

It takes me a good bit of time to get the image exactly where I want it to be, but I suddenly stop, my throat clenching and the rest of me seizing up.

There they are.

My mouth rounds and I lean back into the couch, stunned.

It’s them, the three of them, as they circled me and the bad guy. I drew them standing together as they broke away from the shadows of the building, right in between the shape of smoke and man.

Each one is different and distinct, which is something I hadn’t realized in the moment, except I see it clearly now.

The longer I stare at the picture, the more I canfeelthem. Actually feel them in the apartment with me. Poised and lurking close. It’s like the tickle of fine hairs of my neck, but so much more than that. It’s a whisper in my mind, a touch from my dreams, a prickling of sensations across my skin.

It’s recognition.

Oh wow, I’ve gone entirely mad. I want to blame the pills, but I know it’s my own fault. The terror of the near kidnapping must have been the final nail in my casket. Destroying the last remaining hints of my sanity until, instead of a hollowed-out husk like Walker, I’m dead inside. Still walking and talking and moving, but like a marionette.

But I do feel them. And it makes no sense even to me. They’re around me, the same way they were in my dream.

I pinch my cheeks hard enough to leave bruises marks on my skin. Nope. I’m definitely awake.

Their eyes are on me and I clear my throat. Time to get the introductions out of the way because I can’t spend another day feeling creeped out like this. Either we have a conversation and settle things, or I check myself right into the psych ward. Those are the only two options.

Time for me to actually step up and do something, too.

“Whoever you are, I know you’re there,” I call out with much more bravado than I feel. “I know you’re watching me and that you helped me earlier. Thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to take care of that guy without you.”

I swallow over the gigantic boulder blocking my ability to breathe. A glance down at my fingers shows them covered to my knuckles in charcoal dust and shaking.

Figures.

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