Page 79 of See You Soon
I'm reaching toward the inside of my drawer searching for my ultrasound photos and I can't find them. I start to panic. I jolt forward, ripping the bedsheets off my bed and I'm internally screaming.
I whisk the drawer open and I frantically start throwing stuff out everywhere.
Did my mother come inside my room when I was sleeping? Does she know?
Oh no. This can't be happening.
I stand up, trying to get a deeper look at my nightstand and I stop. Suddenly, something catches my eye.
A massive chunk of my hair falls to the ground.
What is happening?
And then another chunk falls out. Watching huge amounts of my black hair fall to the ground, hitting my feet, sends horror ripping through my chest. I grab my hair, running to my vanity mirror in my bedroom, breathing hard.
I grab my hair and start pulling on my hair and more hair keeps falling out. It looks like I had gotten a botched haircut. Jagged crooked edges run across my hair at my shoulders and I'm freaking out. I'm hyperventilating, tears falling down my cheeks rapidly, my chest heaving up and down, my fingers trembling amongst the strands of my hair as it falls onto my desk. I'm panicking as I brush my hands through my hair, frantic.
This can’t be real.
Red letters catch my eye. There's a message written on my desk with my lipstick along with my ultrasound photos, ripped to shreds.
You’re going to die just like Paul
I scream at the top of my lungs.
Someone was in my room.
Someone was in my fucking room!
Someone came into my room while I slept and wrote this message and cut my hair.
I can't take this anymore.
Someone broke into my house, into my room, and did this to me. He want to kill me.
Shane wants to kill me.
Why didn’t he do it last night? Why is he slowly terrorizing me?
I collapse on the floor holding my hair, watching it fall out, crying uncontrollably. It just keeps falling out…
"Mija! What's wrong?" My mom swings my door open, with a loud, thud. She's scared to death and rushes towards me. I'm still on the ground sobbing. Not caring if she catches me with pieces of the ultrasound in my hand. She bends down and puts her hands on my shoulders.
"Someone broke into our house while we were sleeping. They cut off my hair! They said they're going to kill me!" I shriek, pointing to my desk.
I must have slept through the break-in. The thunderstorm must have drowned out their sounds as they broke in.
"We need to call the police." My mother's voice in distress.
She stands up and she catches the message written on my desk and I'm hugging my knees. Still gripping onto the hair that's no longer attached to my scalp.
"What's this?"
I look up and she has a piece of the ultrasound in her hand.
"Is this yours?" She asks. My heart drops and I'm still sobbing.
"Y— yes. Ma... I'm pregnant." My aching voice rasps and I'm shaking. She stumbles back still holding a piece of the ultrasound. Her breathing quickens and she looks at me, disappointed. She's frozen and it looks like her eyes are searching for something.
