"Guess I'll have to find a new place to live, huh?."
The drive was short, but felt like eternity. Eileen stared out the window, with the bouquet of flowers in her hands. She turned her head to the man who saved her life. She always felt secure with Henry. However, this time, she felt like they were going back to a trap.
On the third floor, Eileen's parents greeted the duo with another bouquet and hugs. The mask that Henry and Eileen put on while explaining, in the most real of details of what happened, almost seemed to crack. Henry turned to open the door to his apartment. Once opening, his heart dropped. He turned to Eileen, who automatically understood his signal.
"Mommy, is it alright if we could stay with you and Daddy tonight?" she asked, as Henry closed his door.
"Don't be silly! I'm sure he won't come back to hurt you," her mother replied, after turning the knob of the locked door. Problem was, her room looked the same as the time of her attack. A blood stain covered the floor as well as caution tape.
"I'm so sorry, honey," the older woman replied.
"We have Eileen's old bedroom still open."
The half-day drive didn't shake the nightmare and trauma that both Henry and Eileen had been through. They didn't dare to pick up any belongings. Henry was concerned if he even set foot into his apartment, he surely would be locked again, despite it looked normal once he opened that door. Eileen couldn't get the scene of the attack out of her head.
Henry's sedan rolled behind her parents' as it pulled up into the driveway. Her parents lived in a nice small suburb in the middle of a city in West Virginia. Eileen made her way up the steps to the second floor, to her bedroom. Her mother offered a beverage, to which Henry politely declined.
"Her room is the second door to the left."
Henry made his way into a very bright, pink room full of stuffed animals. This is Eileen's alright, he thought to himself. She had a cushioned queen sized bed resembling the same one in room 303 firmly located next to the window outside. The man took a seat, before removing his long buttoned shirt. Eileen then made her way into the room.
"My father is the same size as you. Feel free to pick any of these old shirts he plans on getting rid of."
Eileen placed the clothing onto her bed, before reaching into her drawer. After pulling spare clothing out, she turned to the man behind her.
"Bathroom, please."
"Are we going to talk about what happened?"
Henry sat on the toilet seat, fully clothed, sweating profusely as Eileen stood, shaken, in the shower. The bathroom was steamed to the ceiling. She was afraid that blood was going to pour out of the faucet.
"I'm just… I'm just not ready," she replied.
He sighed. He didn't sound argumentative, but he was just worried.
"Come in, Henry. I'm still afraid something's going to happen."
"Are you absolutely comfortable about this?"
Eileen sat on one of the seats in the stall.
"If I was able to go through a waking nightmare of corpses and flesh with you, I'm comfortable to share a shower."
Her voice wasn't condescending. It wasn't sarcastic. It was soft, depressed. The young man proceeded to walk into the stall, unclothed, before taking the seat at the opposite end. He covered his nudity with his arm, before looking down.
There was silence for awhile. Eileen then stood up.
"Let's wash your hair," she said, softly, before reaching her right hand out.
While the shower seemed platonic, all kinds of tension was clearly there. On the other hand, both of them felt remotely safe with each other. Upon getting out of the stall, Henry aided Eileen into putting her clothes back on. She buckled his jeans as he put his shirt on. Neither knew this would become a habit for years to come.
Eileen grabbed a stuffed cat and made a spot next to the end of the bed. Henry crawled to the window.
"Are you ready to talk?" Eileen asked, sheepishly.
"About the nightmare or…"
"..." An awkward silence filled the room.
"I'm sorry. I'm not good with words," Henry replied.
"I guess I'm not either. It just seems like… since this whole thing… We're inseparable."
"Mm." Henry was beginning to drift.
"Do you want to talk about this tomorrow?"
He shook awake a bit. After a few "no's" Eileen turned towards him. She clutched her stuffed cat.
"Thank you for keeping me safe, Henry."
In the moonlight, her face looked as soft as silk.
"Thank you for keeping me sane," he said, sheepishly.
She knew that cuddling up to him would break a bit of the tension that they both had. While words weren't spoken, the body language was all that mattered. Henry wrapped his arms around Eileen's body, keeping her safe once more.
Months Later
In front of the lens of a camera stood a brown haired maiden donned in a beautiful white dress. Her back was turned. Her hair looked like it was just styled. The setting was a gorgeous park full of magnolia trees and a pond with a bridge.
"Look at the camera!" a male voice called, slightly muffled.
Eileen turned around, visibly having a bump on her stomach.
"So what is it?"
Eileen hesitated with a smile.
"Henry, give me that," she said, smacking her lips.
"Not until you say what it is."
She sighed, rolled her eyes, before crossing her arms.
"Your friends are waiting to know!"
"And you're going to cost us a fortune by making these personalized videos to send!"
"No, I already got the picture. This is just for your parents."
Eileen busted out laughing. His remark was just awkward… just the way she liked it.
"We're having a girl."
Five years later
"Happy birthday, dear Cyndy! Happy birthday to you!"
The front of the lens of a camera was a young girl, just turning five years old. Next to her was Eileen, staring up at the camera.
"Blow out the candles, Cyndy!"
"Henry, put the camera on the table and get on the other side!"
Henry placed the camera down, as Eileen's father soon picked it up after.
"Little Cyndy, how old are you today?"
"Five!" the girl said, rather disinterested.
When the party was over, Cyndy sat out in the backyard, in the sandbox. None of her cousins were her age. She was lonely, sad that she didn't have a friend like her.
Suddenly, a young, blond-haired boy approached the young, brown-haired girl. Her green eyes looked up to his blue irises.
"You look sad," the boy said.
"I am. I don't have any friends, and none of my cousins are my age," she replied.
"I could be your friend!" the boy in the striped sweater replied, happily.
From inside the kitchen, Eileen could hear Cyndy laughing and playing. When she looked out the window, it was just her. She was playing by herself in the sandbox.
A few months later
"Hey, honey, what are you drawing?" Henry asked, before sitting in the chair next to Cyndy's. She was scribbling a drawing with just crayons.
"Me and my friend, Sully," she replied.
"Sully, huh?" he said, sounding interested. "Like the monster Sully?"
"He's not a monster, Daddy!" she said, almost sarcastically.
Henry looked at her picture. His heart dropped.
Sully was wearing a striped sweater.
A blue and striped sweater.
"Cyndy…" he said, worriedly.
"We have to go somewhere, Cyndy," he said, frantically, before picking the girl up.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as he made is way to the foyer.
"Eileen!" he called, as the woman came downstairs.
"What are you doing?" she replied, as she hit the last step.
"We need to get out of here."
"What?" she asked, following him, in the rain, as he soakedly placed Cyndy into her booster seat. She was struggling to get her arm into her jacket pocket.
"Do you know about Cyndy's imaginary friend?" he asked, condescendingly, as he closed the door.
"No, she usually doesn't tell me about him."
"Neither did she… until just now."
"What do you mean?" she asked worriedly.
"... Sully, Eileen. Walter. She has an imaginary friend who is Walter."
Eileen gasped, as she frantically made her way into the passenger seat. Henry pulled out of the driveway, at a faster speed than legal.
"Slow down, Henry!" Eileen said, worriedly.
Cyndy looked out the window, before screaming.
Sully stood in the road, but when they got too far, he appeared back at the bumper again, as the car kept going. When he got too far again, he appeared at the bumper… again. And again. And again.
"Watch out!" Eileen screamed.
Henry blared his horn.
"MISS CYNDY TOWNSHEND!"
The horn stopped as Cyndy quickly propped herself up from the desk. Mr. Offerman was not happy with her. He pulled a small notepad from his desk, before scribbling on it.
"Detention for sleeping in my class, young lady!"
He slammed the detention slip before her. The bell rang. She rubbed her eyes, before reluctantly packing her bag. She groaned to herself as she left the classroom.
"Hey, assholes," Cyndy called out to the group sitting underneath the bleachers. They were out in the track field.
"Where's my cig?"
"We got you, Townshend," a spiked goth by the name of Jillian called before her. He handed her a cigarette.
She sat next to a teenager who was her best friend. Abby was much smaller than Cyndy, contrasting her with very pale skin, a slim, oval-shaped face, She had small, closed-set brown eyes, complete with thick black eyeliner and mascara, a slim, roman-shaped nose, which donned a septum ring, and thin lips covered in black lipstick. She had dyed black hair, which was cut herself, evident by the very short bangs that rose almost to her hair line, while the rest of her hair fell down to her shoulders. She donned a rose flower band around her head, a black maxi dress, black flip flops, and a dark purple sheer shawl. Abby was slim, with the heroin-chic body type. Cyndy, on the other hand, was a bit taller and slightly heavier, with thick brown hair, a heart face shape, complete with green eyes and a face resembling her father. Cyndy donned her father's buttoned shirt, with a metal band shirt, ripped at the arms, but tied at the bottom, and a pair of baggy jeans. She donned converse high-tops.
"Hey, beautiful," Abby said with a smile, before planting a kiss on Cyndy's cheek. She slightly blushed in return.
"Whoa, we got another LGBT couple to rally for today?" another friend of theirs called. They all smiled.
"I mean, after that whole shit with the principal, with the mean shit he said, that protest after school ought to get him fired."
"Wish I could go," Cyndy said, grumpily. "But Dick-her-Offman gave me detention."
The whole group groaned.
"Aw, Cyndy, sleeping in second period again?"
"Sweetie," Abby said, softly.
"I'm concerned with you sleeping a lot lately."
"Pshht- I'm fine!" Cyndy replied, rather confidently.
Abby was not impressed.
"I sense a lot of negative energy from you, today," the goth girl replied.
"Well, maybe your chakras are off," Townshend barked back.
Abby paused for a moment.
"... I'm serious. Something doesn't feel right"
"Maybe it's the kush you smoked last night. I told you, don't get it from Kurt again!" Jillian called back.
The bell for fourth period rang. Cyndy took a seat at her desk, as Mr. Trent began roll call. Suddenly, after pulling her science book and notebook from her bag, Cyndy felt a vibration from the buttoned shirt.
She pulled her phone out, before her heart dropped.
The text read:
JACK B. NIMBLE. JACK B. QUICK. JACK B. FINISHING 21 SACRAMENTS.
"MISS TOWNSHEND!"
Mr. Trent bent his hand and gave the "come hither" motion to Cyndy. She groaned, before handing her phone to the teacher. He gave a whiff.
"You smell like cigarettes today," he said, irritated.
"And you smell like a Thai hooker's muff." she replied.
The class howled with laughter.
"And for that, you won't see your phone for a week."
Cyndy groaned again.
"Are you fucking serious?"
"A mouth like that gives it two weeks. You're lucky I like your humor, or else you'd be down to the principal's office today."
He put the phone in his desk, before looking back up to her.
"And I bet you don't want to miss your civil rights parade."
As there was shouting coming from the front, followed by chanting, Cyndy was confined to her desk, scribbling nothings into her notebook. About half into detention, Abby came through the door, before sitting down next to her best friend.
"Abby, why are you here in this prison?" Townshend said, sarcastically.
"It was just shitty what happened. You deserve to be out there."
Abby scooched her desk closer in, before being caught by the security guard. She slowly moved it back, before crossing her legs.
"Are you still coming home with me and my Mom?"
"Isn't your Mom condemning me for being gay?"
"She's devoted to her religion, yes, but she's not crazy," Abby replied, in a whisper.
"When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears, and rescues them from all their troubles."
Abby and Cyndy spent the ride home listening to a cheap podcast of bible study. Abby groaned.
"Oh, hush, darling, you may need this when the lord condemns you for your wicked ways."
"And I condemn you to leaving me alone," Abby replied.
Once they made their way through the door, Abby and Cyndy instantly ran up into the room of safety. The room of freedom. Abby's room was one with peace… or to the two "wicked" girls, that is. Abby turned on "Every day is Exactly the Same" before she pulled out a bud from one of her prescription bottles. The girls shared it, They laid on the floor, cuddled up to each other, as they got lost in the void of teenage angst. The hanging crystals from the ceiling really had Cyndy feeling at peace. Abby, on the other hand, still felt that negative aura.
"Babe, you should really call your parents and let them know you got here alright."
Cyndy got irritated.
"Fine! Just one phone call! But my Dad knows I'm alright!"
Abby got up to her feet.
"I'm just worried, that's all!"
Cyndy groaned, before taking Abby's phone. She dialed her father's number.
It beeped as if it was disconnected.
She tried her mother's phone.
It beeped as if it was disconnected.
She tried both numbers again.
Same thing.
Again.
Same.
They both began to panic. They ran downstairs, frantically asking Abby's mother to just drive past the Townshend home.
The house was surrounded by neighbors and police cars. Abby and Cyndy ran out of the car, up to the caution tape. In front of them was the sheriff, who happily waved for the girls to come through.
"Sheriff Schroder!" Cindy called.
"What's going on? Where are my parents?"
He looked down, before looking at Abby. She got even more worried. The house was covered with red symbols, and a blood trail tracing from inside the home.
"Your parents are missing. It may be a possible homicide."
Cyndy didn't hear herself mutter a "what" out of her lips.
"Cyndy, where were you? I need to clear your alibi," Sheriff Schroder followed with.
Schroder was an older man, well into his forties. He always had faith to the two young girls, and looked at them as his own daughters.
"She was with me! She had detention after school and my Mom picked us up right after. She has security camera confirming we were there!" Abby replied.
"Do you know how long this has been?"
"Not sure. Neighbors called in for a commotion at three in the afternoon. We assumed a domestic dispute but your parents are far from the type to do that."
"Cindy, if you know anything, please tell me."
Cyndy tried really hard to compose herself. Abby kept her hands on Townshend's shoulder, comforting her in every way possible.
"I got a weird text on my phone, but Mr. Trent confiscated it during fourth period. It should be in his desk."
With authorization from the security guard, they were escorted to classroom 118, where Sheriff Schroder retrieved the U-Phone. Cyndy tried to turn it back on with no luck.
"Battery's dead!" she said, panicked.
"I have my battery with me," Abby said, softly, before pulling out a charger from her purse. When they plugged the phone in, Abby quickly turned it on. Once it loaded, there was not that one message, but multiple messages. Each one was threatening or appeared threatening, and the number was unknown. The last message, which was sent right when the phone loaded, was a video.
The three turned it on. It was Eileen.
She was in a purple dress.
She was being maimed, stabbed, pounced, just mutilated right before their eyes.
"Mom!" Cyndy called over and over again, as Schroder brought the video to his hands. She placed her hands over her mouth, sliding down the vent that she leaned against.
Schroder pulled out his walkie talkie, before sending a signal.
"Bringing Miss Townshend and Miss Zirkowski to the station. Need tech support to track a location of Miss Townshend's phone. Miss Galvin-Townshend is believed to be in danger, or possibly deceased. Over."
Both the sheriff and Abby slowly escorted Cyndy out. As they made it to the entrance, a new text appeared.
"Room 302. South Ashfield Heights.
W.S."