games in the dark

.

The phone rings. I hear its decibels breaking through the noise of running water. I sigh but quickly step out of the shower and wrap a towel over my body. I move fast and at the same time trying not to slip and fall on my face, water dripping from my wet hair. I shiver slightly and pick up the receiver. It’s him.

He sounds worried.

How are you doing?

I’m... coping. No need to worry. It hasn’t been that long.

I wrap the towel tighter and start to rub my other arm. So much for the positive effects of a hot shower. The old radiators weren’t helping either. Well, that or the fact that I was running late with the last bill.

Yeah, that sounds like an invitation. I’m coming over.

You don’t need to.

Already decided.

You sound like a broken record.

Blame the turntable that hears voices.

You’re not as amusing as you might think.

Oh, I think I get by quite well, thank you.

I stare at the empty, gold frame where the glass used to be once, and wonder how bad the shape of my body was. The small mirror in the bathroom didn’t really show the whole scale of the problem. I knew things were a bit better now, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for the top to bottom, overall look.

Charlie, things are durable, and you have a lot of work. Don’t waste time on me. When it will get really bad I will let you know or come over - or maybe not, Susan keeps sending me strange looks.

She sends everybody those looks until your dirty conscience floats to the surface and she can use it against you.

You’re still not being funny, Mr. Evans.

Well, I’m still coming, and when I do, you are telling me your second name.

I hang up the phone and smile. I look at the half-empty pill bottle filled with painkillers and put it away. Good, I hated the way they made me feel. Less pain, the same volume. I head to my bedroom, put on some clothes and then dry my hair. It was a good thing the general electricity still worked. I finish drying my hair and notice that I resemble a poodle, locks moving in every direction. Hmm, a lion with deep issues. I gaze into the mirror and I quickly brush out the mess, then tie my hair into a long braid. I stare at their color and pout. It was always a funny thing. Once they were almost completely black and other days like these, they were just dark brown.

I head to the living room and grab an oversized black sweater from the sofa. Today was definitely not a t-shirt weather. I make myself some tea in the kitchen and sit on an old chair. Patiently waiting for the right paracetamol bottle to come. The one that never had a side-effect, just a deep penetrating stare. I smile. Don’t even go there, I think to myself while wrapping my fingers around a hot mug.

***

He’s late.

She’s sitting on the couch and drinking the last cold remainings in the cup. It’s her second one, and there is a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She doesn’t bother herself with turning on a small TV because usually the static just irritates her senses, sometimes even speeding up the whole process in her head. Not that she normally has the time for cheap entertainment, too busy raving in pain on a regular basis.

She looks at her messy surroundings and starts to feel sleepy, all the extra energy that she had from the shower seems to drain out of her. Her eyelids get heavy, and she yawns. She sets herself in a more comfortable position, putting her head against the back of a couch and wrapping the blanket tighter. She shivers and feels her body set in rest mode. She eventually closes her eyes, too many sleepless nights finally making a mark and catching up with her. She leans to the side and slips down to a laying position; a couple more seconds and she’s gone.

The wind hollows outside, and the rain bangs against the windows. Thick clouds covering the room in shadows and making it seem that the night has already settled itself in, darkness slipping in every hole and crack of the flat. She shivers in her sleep, not only from the cold, as all sorts of images fill her mind. Dangerous images that liked to sneak up on you, when you were too tired to resist. She sinks deeper in her sleep, and the nightmares begin once more.

Faint light slips into the empty space. Dust motes flying in the air and shining like an endless galaxy of stars, making the scene seem beautiful and peaceful. Making it a lie. The air is musty and chilly, a complete opposite to the weather outside. The heat wave keeping a distance from this place. Avoiding it. No good gets pass these walls. Unknown eyes search every detail, and speck of dust that covers the surfaces and sticks to the ground. Those eyes linger on the emptiness and enjoy the slow decay. It’s felt in the atmosphere and can be inhaled with the stench that climbs down to the lungs, and leaves mold in your soul.

Those eyes stare at the broken floorboards, and the holes in the walls - the only thing that lets the light filter through. They move forward and linger on the stairs. The banister is a risky business, and each of those stairs represents a different threat, leading strangers to the second floor of this dark place - a place that was once a grand mansion with people that lived there in luxury and comfort. Now it’s empty, the surroundings resembling the inside of some terrifying creature, its guts ripped from inside, and all that is left is a gaping hole that moans, and over time submerges into darkness. Sinking in the depths of the past, but not before it satisfies its hunger. This place. It craves her and wants to devour her... yet, it is in no rush. No, this monster is patient.

The eyes that have no physical body, smile... and it’s a truly cruel grin. No sounds escape this unseen danger as it waits, as it prowls.

She stirs in her sleep, her heart racing, her body twisting and bending, but her mind not letting her wake up. Holding her in the nightmare. She knows that she has to see it all, experience it all over again because this will never end for her. Her mind on constant repeat.

She’s in the building, feeling the mold in the air and the chills that reach under her skin. The fear crawling under her organs and heading straight for the heart. But she had to be here, following him to see where he went. He had his gun with him. She needed to see. She had to know. Because she knew what he had done to... Her mind trips on the name, blocking her, body starting to shake. She tries to regain some focus. All the things that she found out about this man terrified her and made her sink even deeper after... A single click in the head, another blockade. Her feet move, scrapping against the cracking floor.

She knew what he did, but he knew about her too. Long before she even knew him and the things that he was capable of, and the void that he would bring her and make her forever suffer because of it. He tracked her down and wanted money that she didn’t have. He made her life a living hell. And now she was here, following his every step, no longer caring for any consequences.

She tries to step as quietly as she can, all the while feeling the weight in the bag. She doesn’t want to use it, just wants to be protected - being in constant fear since, since… - her mind goes blank again, as she searches for him. She saw him come in here. She saw him disappear into this building, on this late, summer’s day.

She wants to wake up so badly because she knows what will happen next. So many times that she had to relive this scene. Over and over again and she could never wake up before the end.

Moving slowly up the stars, she feels watched. Her skin cringing from the sensation. Her mind spinning. Her heart so close to jumping out of her chest. Her breathing speeds. She moves up, holding on to the shaky banister, tripping over countless holes on her way. She finally reaches the top. She gasps as she hears something downstairs. She moves back and hides in the shadows, where there isn’t any light to expose her.

She sees him now. He’s heading up, looking to the sides; small eyes drilling into everything. She looks down and gasps again. He’s holding his gun in a firm grip, his lips twisting into a smile. As if he knew that she was there, knowing all along that she would follow him. He was waiting for it.

She hears a noise somewhere in the back of her head. The sound is piercing... a doorbell. She wants to wake up so much, but her body can’t move.

The man goes up, stairs squeaking under his impressive weight, but he doesn’t seem to care. He just moves forward, waiting for his prize. She grips the banister tighter, blood draining from her face.

Come on, little girl. I’m waiting for you. I have been waiting so long.

She moves back and stumbles. She falls to the ground and hears a low laugh.

Ah, there you are. Hiding from me, you slut? Come here, or I will make you suffer - more.

She stands up on shaky legs and reaches into her bag. The cold metal burning her hand. She hesitates for a moment but pulls it out. For a while, she feels brave. She takes a couple steps and the remaining floorboards shriek under her weight.

There you are. Did you miss me? Because I have sure missed you. Come closer so I can have a better look at you.

She slowly walks up to him, her mind not able to produce any coherent thoughts. For a moment she even forgets why she’s here.

I don’t have the money.

Oh, who the fuck cares about that?! You know what you did to me? What your lover infected on me?

I don’t understand...

Oh, stop playing along. You must know what’s going on with me. I got rid of him, and it fucked with my mind.

He comes closer and she instinctively steps back. She swallows. What is she supposed to do now? Was she really going to do this?

You might be a pretty little thing, but I know the real you. And you know what? I bet it started from you. That you are a disease that crept into that idiot that stole my money, and then it caught up with me, your filth spreading It got to my head.

He points his gun to his forehead and slowly pokes it a couple of times. Bang, bang, bang. She flinches.

I can’t think straight, I keep messing up my business. And those damn voices in my head! They’re there all the time and - well, they say stuff. About you. That I need to get rid of you. And so does he.

What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything, you killed him. You did all of this; you got rid of him, you took him away from me and then you haunted me like an animal for money. And who is “he”?

Don’t play dumb with me.

The corners of his lips suddenly lift.

You know, he told me you would say that. That you would try to distract me. Playing the victim, the innocent, and then you would fuck with me and end me.

I lift my gun, my hands shaking. I swallow. What was going on around here? What was this hell hole that was my life? He looks at the gun and then into my eyes and smiles. I cringe, seeing the rage inside of him. The hate that infects him like pollution. Like venom.

And I see that he was right. Naughty, naughty. But don’t worry, you will pay for it all. This will never stop.

He reaches her, they struggle. He’s bigger than her and has the upper hand. He pushes her against the banister. She tries to think logically, but everything is happening so fast. She doesn’t seem to understand any of it. She plunges forward, trying to get him of her. There is a lot of rustling noises. She fills the gun against her stomach. It pushes inside her body. She panics.

I told this would be over for you...

She hears the trigger and then a bang. The gun goes off, and then - there is just stillness. Not even one breath is altered. She sees dust motes in the air. The light slipping through the cracks. She feels something wet. It’s warm. It flows. It drips. She looks down and sees blood. She looks up and gazes at his surprised expression. He stumbles back. A low pitch hiss escaping his throat. He croaks some sounds out, and blood flows out of his mouth.

She doesn’t move. She doesn’t breath. She just watches with a completely empty mind, as he steps back and tumbles down the stairs. She hears his neck snap. Her eyes staring at his motionless body. There is no sound around her, just the nothingness surrounding her from each angle. Screaming filling her ears, her head, her body. Her shouts breaking the walls, crushing the stairs, ripping her flesh and twisting her bones. More screams, more pain, and then...

I wake up, practically screaming my lungs out and falling down from the couch. The only thing breaking through is the constant sound of the doorbell. I pant like crazy, trying to free myself from the blanket twisted around my body. I hyperventilate, attempting to make sense of my surroundings and what the heck had just happened here. I close my eyes and the annoying sound of the bell finally makes me focus.

Eleonore? What’s going on? Come on, let me in. I’m freezing here.

Charlie. His name is like a whisper in her thoughts, amongst all the noise. A silent distraction from her screaming mind.

I get up, kicking the blanket away, and automatically fixing my hair as I stumble on the way. Then I scold myself for doing it in the first place. What was I trying to achieve here? I walk up the door, my bare feet against the cold wooden floor. I start to tremble a bit from the sudden chill coming from the air.

You’re late. I had a nightmare, and I don’t want to talk about it right now. Come on, get in here already. You’re letting the cold in.

He looks at her with a scowl. His clothes and hair all wet. A broken umbrella in one hand, and a paper bag in the other. There is a moment of silence while I gaze at drops of water falling down from his hair and hitting the ground. It’s so quiet, that each drop seems to make a noise like a steel ball instead of water. I sigh.

Won’t you please, come in?

I pretend to bow and then wave my hand with an overdramatic movement. He gives me a dark look, but then the corner of his lips twitch, and he smiles.

Well, aren’t you the “hostess with the mostest” today.

He gives her a once-over look and lifts an eyebrow.

Now, look what we’ve got here; a black sweater, black leggings, and almost black hair. Hmm, at least your cheeks have some color.

I open my mouth to say something nasty, but he just passes me and heads for the kitchen, before I can even alter a single word. He puts the paper bag on the counter and looks around, a bit confused. Then he marches to the bathroom. I look at the water prints on the floor and sit on the side of the couch, curious about his doings. I didn’t really have company much, so this was like watching Animal Planet on TV for me. I put my head to the side as he walks out, jacket and shoes off, an old mop in his hand. His hair fixed and combed back. I blink a couple of times. He actually reminds of some old movie star now. He notices me staring. I quickly close my mouth.

What? I left my shoes and jacket in the shower so I won’t get anything else wet, besides, I always clean my mess.

It’s my turn to lift an eyebrow.

Wish I could say the same. You know, this isn’t really Taj Mahal or Louvre in Paris. No one is going to kick you out for being a slob. I mean just look around.

He pretends to inspect the flat, but then just shrug his shoulders. He starts to mop the floor from the kitchen to the door and back. I try not to frown. Definitely too comfortable around here.

What’s in the bag, cleaner boy?

He walks away, and I can hear him from the bathroom.

Late lunch for the malady.

I snort. But then quickly jump up, walk to the counter, and open the bag. I stare at four croissants and my mouth starts to water. I inhale. Mmm, chocolate. I bit in, and almost faint with pleasure. My stomach growls accusingly as if I didn’t feed it for the past week. I finish my half before he even steps in the kitchen.

Did you leave me any?

Sure, sure. I’m not an animal, you know.

One could argue.

Stop trying to be amusing, it never works for you.

Oh, I think I get by rather well. Can the slave ask for some tea?

I roll my eyes but don’t say anything, putting on the water and setting two cups on the counter. We sit in silence while the water boils. Him eating and me focusing on not thinking about the nightmare. I make the tea and then he finally decides to say something.

I fixed your radiator, by the way.

What? - I look up surprised.

Yeah, the knob was twisted off, I found it on the floor and just put it back in place and turned it. It’s already heating up as we speak.

I look at him in consternation. So, it wasn’t about the unpaid bills then. I shake my head. Yet. Because it was just a matter of time really if I didn’t do anything about it soon. I still have a funny expression on my face while he asks.

So, about that screaming, I heard? Do you feel like adding anything now?

No, not really.

Come on, give me something.

He leans forward and takes her hand. She feels the warmth and relaxes a bit. Funny, she didn’t even notice if the voices were back or not. She didn’t even hear the buzzing this time. She sighs. These bad dreams had a way of falling in first place, once they showed up.

It was just a nightmare. What else can I say?

Anything.

Fine, I...

I stutter while I think of what to actually say. I stare at my fingers, my thumbs circulating the sides of the cup. Maybe I could tell him this? Or some of it? After all, it was a bad dream and it could mean anything. People hardly ever took them in a literal way. I take a slow breath, trying to calm my heart.

It was a big house. I dreamt of an old residence or a building. It was dark there, just a little light slipping inside. The place was practically falling apart. The stairs, uhm... the stairs were very unstable and there was this man. He had a gun and I take a deep breath, and it fired. He attacked me and then he fell down the stairs. He broke his neck. I... didn’t stop the fall.

My shoulders start to quiver as I try with all my might, not to say the words, “I killed him.” I just couldn’t bring myself to say it, even as I pretended it was just a dream, when in reality that was the exact thing that happened. He grabs my hand again and rubs my skin. I look up. He doesn’t look like he’s going to run away, and I let myself breathe.

It was just a nightmare, Eleonore. You can relax now.

Maybe. Yes, you’re right. So, what happened to you? I mean, why were you late?

I do what I can to change the subject. My mind sending me constant alarm bells. He let’s go of me and gives a long sigh.

The weather was a real murder. The rain, the wind; I pretty much broke my umbrella, but that’s not the worse. The bus broke down and I had to walk the bigger part of the way. Generally, not a very optimistic day.

I couldn’t agree more.

He gazes at me for a moment. He seems to be indecisive about something. I try not to think where he’s going with that look on his face.

So, how is your head today? Is it like a techno party in there?

Actually no. I feel alright.

I’m not sure who is more surprised by this statement. Me or him.

That’s good to hear, and are you feeling more talkative than the moment we walked out of the diner?

Charlie?

Yeah?

How about just some chill time today?

He gazes at me for a moment, like he’s debating on his options. He taps his fingers against the counter and drinks his tea. He smiles.

You’re the boss, Elle. Did you have any fun activities in mind? Because there are so many activities that are good for chilling.

He twitches his eyebrows at me and a paper bag hits his face. He laughs out loud and put his hands up in surrender. I get up, switch on the lights, and point to the couch.

The TV will have to do, lover boy. Now go sit, and I will go get my laptop, I have tons of work that I am behind with.

I stare at him for a moment and then smile.

And thanks to you, I finally can get to it.

Well, glad to be of service ma’am.

This time a pillow hits his face hard.

_______

next chapter...

https://theprose.com/post/242510/action-reaction-kind-of-thing