Lost in the Shadows

Laura

A/N: Hope I don't squick anyone. Sort of squicked myself. Hey, Mrs. Wells? This does not call for a guidance appointment. This is just a story. The fact that I freaked myself out writing this should say that. I hate the idea of things cutting things. I even hate paper cuts, for Pete's sake.

_______________________

I have to ace this test. If I ace this test, I'll get my degree. If I get my degree I can start applying to schools for a teaching position. But do I want to teach the little kids or the teenagers?

I dropped my bag on the couch and walked towards the bookcase, reaching for a book but carefully avoiding touching the actual wood of the bookcase. I don't like that bookcase. Damn- my hand brushed it when I started to pull the book off the self.

THAT BITCH

The thought crammed its way into my head forcefully. I didn't know who said it, but someone did. Someone who was now dead. The idea was filled with hate and rage, and it made me stagger back a few steps. I shivered. I don't like that bookcase. My roommate told me she got it at an estate sale. I hate estate sales. I hate them. Shaking still, I hastily jammed the book back into the case and turned around, heading towards the bathroom. I'll take a shower. I'll take a shower. I can wash off the thoughts. I can wash away the dead. I can scrub them away. They'll wash off. They'll go away. Go away. Away.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted, clenching my fists in a little ball. As I passed the bathroom door to get my robe and towel, I saw someone in the bathroom and jumped, turning to stare into the little room. No one, just the mirror reflecting a far-away me with soft shoulder-length black hair and pretty wide eyes. Far-away me. Far-away me. Pretty me. Am I pretty? After a few moments of staring into the empty bathroom I forced myself to look away and go get my things to take a shower.

When I locked the bathroom door behind me, I quickly unbuttoned my shirt and let it fall to the ground in a little blue-checked puddle. Scowling at my reflection, I turned around to glance at my rear. Need to take off a few pounds. Definitely. I let the rest of my clothes drop to the floor, instinctively crossing my arms loosely over my chest as I stepped into the shower. Living for almost twenty years in an old house with lots of eyes watching you made a person modest, almost to the point of obsession with modesty. I was a reserved child, but college made me wild. My boyfriend Tony is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Modesty around Tony? HA! Never modest around Tony. Don't need to be modest around Tony. At least Tony understands my hatred of antique things, although he doesn't know why I hate them. I shivered at the memory of the bookcase. I get that every time I touch it. Some angry thought about some woman who did something-

MAGGIE

I yelped and turned around quickly. No one was there, but someone had clearly thought my name, or said it. Something. Something.

"Go away!" I muttered, turning back towards the wall of the shower and scrubbing angrily at my back. "Go away!"

The presence stayed in my mind, like a little shadow in the fog. I knew there was someone there. Someone was watching me, and the fuzzy feeling of it felt like someone I knew. I'll scrub it out. I'll scrub it out. Biting my lip in pure terror, I kept scrubbing the mesh sponge across my back. It felt great, like I was getting rid of years of grime and I couldn't even feel a thing. After a few minutes I turned towards the rack of soaps, reaching for the bar of Dial while taking the sponge off my back so I could add more soap to it. As I moved, I glanced at the mirror. Someone was reflected in it with me. I yelped and turned towards where the mirror said someone was, but no one was there. As I turned my back slid along the tile wall, I felt a burning, stinging pain in my skin there. I looked down at the sponge in my hand and my jaw dropped. Blood covered the side I had been scrubbing myself with, and I could even see small bits of skin clinging to the plastic. I screamed and stumbled back, falling down to the floor of the shower as I tried to get away from the shadow that now filled the end of the shower. Little tendrils of steam rose up from the tile floor and snaked around the figure, which reached out one thin hand towards me.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed, writhing frantically and trying to scramble away from the figure, ignoring the stinging in my back.

HELP ME PLEASE DYING CAN'T BREATHE SCARED HURT DEAD

"Go away!" I begged, fumbling with the shelf above my head. "Please, just leave me alone!"

The plastic rack slipped down and fell on my head, bottles and cans of shaving gel clattering in between me and the thing, getting caught and swirling around in the flow of water. THERE! I found what I was looking for.

Slash. Slash.

I fell forward on the tile floor, my head just barely out of the way of drowning, while the water turned to red wine.

--- --- ---

"NO!" I shrieked, sitting straight up in bed at the mental place, and frantically groping in the dark for a light switch. Just before my fingers found the little plastic knob, I paused. No, can't do that, they'll see. All of them. I'll go find someone. Find someone to help, who likes me. Who likes me? No one likes me, I'm a freak. I'm an ugly freak. I'm insane. I'm crazy. I'm going crazy.

Does Nelson like me? No, why would Nelson like me? I've just scared him. But he's nice. I think. I can't remember. I don't remember how people act when they like you. I don't remember Tony. But maybe I do, because I can remember that I can't remember him. What did I do with Tony? Tony liked me. I kissed Tony, and did...other things. No, I wouldn't do...other things with Nelson. Not that kind of like. People talk to people when they like them. I talk to Nelson.

GODDAMMIT, I want off these drugs. Make me think funny.

But does Nelson talk to me? He saved me from drowning. But I wasn't really drowning, I just thought I was. But he did save me. I think. Did he? I should ask him. I should go talk to Nelson. He's still sane, maybe he can tell me if he saved me or not.

As I unlocked my door and tried to remember where Nelson's room was – Did I know that in the first place? Have I been to Nelson's room? No, I don't go there, people's rooms are where other things happen. So no. Do I know? Does he have a little name card? I'll look for his little name card. I have a little name card on my door. – I noticed, to my brief amusement, that my feet made almost no noise when I walked down the hall. All the way down the hall, checking name cards as I went. There's Nelson. Door's locked. I can get it open. I fiddled with the lock for a few seconds until it clicked open smoothly. Ha. A year's worth of hell has taught me something.

Nelson was sleeping. He sleeps...he doesn't sleep well. His sheets were twisted around his legs and his pillow was shoved at an odd angle up against the headboard. I took a light step towards him and very softly – I haven't forgotten how to be nice while I'm here, see? – touched my finger to his temple, and let it trail down his cheekbone to run the length of the scar there. A brief smile flicked across his mouth and he turned towards me, still asleep and made a sleepy noise, a soft moan.

"Rachel?" he murmured and rolled over again. "Glad you're here, Rachel."

I frowned and stepped back, a slight smile tugging at the corner of my mouth at his sleep talking. I decided to wait for him to wake up. He mumbled a few more things as I found a corner of his room to curl up in, and I fell asleep to the soft sound of Nelson talking in his sleep.

--- --- ---