Battle Scars

My thoughts keep me awake tonight. Snippets of conversations I had with friends and co-workers ebb and weave their way through my consciousness.

I probably shouldn’t have told my boss about that concert I went to last weekend. She probably thinks I’m all about the sex, drugs, and rock and roll now… Katherine’s birthday cake was so delicious, I wonder how Amber made the icing so fluffy… William definitely needs to leave Jenny – he deserves so much better…

My phone buzzes quietly next to my head from the bedside table. The screen glows faintly. I push myself up onto one arm and reach for my phone, wondering who would be texting me this late. Last time I checked, it was close to midnight. Jake’s name appears on the screen under the words “Text Message Received,” begging to be read. I hesitate for a moment.

It’s late… He will know if I open and read his text… If he really loved me, he would be here right now…

A moment of weakness overtakes me and I unlock my phone.

“Hey!”

Seriously? That’s it? It is 12:22 and all you say is “Hey”?

I run my fingers through my hair, untangling the knots that have already begun to form. I look down at the screen again, wondering if Jake was even worth a response. I lose myself in thought, debating the consequences of responding to the text, absent-mindedly stroking my hair. A soft tingling sensation slowly makes its way up my arm breaking my trance. I am back in my bed, alone in the darkness. I look down at my arm, and in the faint glow of light, a black coin moves towards my hand.

I try to calm myself, rationalizing that I’m just being paranoid. I move my other hand slowly-the hand holding my phone-and open the flashlight app, bathing myself in the blinding white light. It is not a coin on my arm after all. As my blood turns to ice, the pounding in my chest blurs my vision. For a moment I cannot move – I freeze in fear. Then as quickly as the paralysis takes hold of me, it evaporates, leaving me with the energy to furiously flick it off my arm.

Adrenaline kicks in and I sit up straight, eyes darting back and forth, seeking out my attacker. I find him perched on my pillow, and we lock eyes. For a moment neither of us moves. We stare each other down, daring the other to make the first move. He moves - hurtling his body full speed towards me. I jump back horrified. He doesn’t quite reach me, but he does not have the height advantage my pillow provides either. He stops. We both pause, trying to anticipate the other’s next move. Still holding my phone in my right hand, flashlight aimed at him, I slowly reach back and grab a handful of blanket. I swiftly flick my wrist, casting my blankets off the bed and onto the ground. I am not going to allow him the satisfaction of seeking refuge between my sheets. My two eyes never leaving his eight.

He charges again and I jump off the bed, arms raised in defense. The light illuminating from my flashlight app bounces around the bed and he follows. In that moment, it dawns on me that he is hypnotized by the glow, like a cat chasing the little red dot of a laser. From a safe distance, I move the flashlight around, testing my discovery. Sure enough, he follows my lead, every twist and turn. Fear slowly gives way to fascination. Perhaps this monster is not here on an assassination assignment, but rather an explorative expedition.

As the seconds, turn to minutes, my anger and fear returns. As perplexing as this situation is, it didn't change the fact that I am now standing in my underwear in the middle of my bedroom. He is conquering new territory - my bed. Without thinking, I throw my phone onto the bed, distracting him as I run to the bathroom for my glasses. The war has begun.

On my way back, I grab one of my new white and gold sandals. He may have won the opening battle, but I will not let him win this war. I take a deep breath and walk back into my room, sandal poised. He has moved closer to my phone, inspecting the source of the light. I slowly and silently inch my way closer to the bed. Squeezing my eyes shut, I swing my hand down with all my might, a high pitched squeal escaping from my lips. I jump back and open my eyes in time to see that I have missed. He crawls under the sandal, now discarded on my bed. He has won again.

I step back and shake out my trembling hands. This is not how the plan was supposed to go! I glance around the room, searching for anything that I can use as a weapon. I see a plastic blue clothes hanger lying in the corner of my room, sticking out from the jeans and t-shirt I had worn earlier. I pick it up with my left hand. I also pick up one of my black ballet flats in my right hand, desperately wishing I had bought the bottle of Raid like my mother had suggested weeks ago. I clear my head and focus on him again. This time, victory will be mine.

I turn on all the lights. He cannot hide in the shadows anymore. Using the hanger, I coax him out from his hiding place. He doesn't cower. He emerges confidently, ready for the fight. Once again, we lock eyes. His eight beady eyes make my skin crawl and I stifle the scream threatening to take me hostage. I take another deep breath. This time I keep my eyes open as I swing my shoe, never losing sight of my target. I am fast. He is faster. He moves away and bounces off the bed. I retreat hastily, eyes searching everywhere for him. He is gone. He has won the third challenge.

I am ready to admit defeat. Naked, alone, and afraid I slowly back out of the room. I pause at the doorway, looking back –hoping or dreading - to see him one more time. He is wise and does not let me see his victory celebration. I close the door behind me, acknowledging his conquest. Bowing my head in humiliation, I stumble to the couch and curl up under the tiny fleece blanket. I lie motionlessly on the couch, replaying the war in my mind. Body aching, I slowly drift to sleep, waiting for the morning light to rescue me - but morning never comes.