An Introvert's Haunt

Layla unlocked the door, almost instantly slumping into the couch in front of her- melting into it to the point of imperceptibility. 

It had been weeks of her having to put on her “extrovert” face.

On Mondays, a friend or a colleague would drag her out to the nearest bar with the promise of getting blackout drunk, although it almost always ended up with her pulling them away from prying eyes and depositing them back home.

On Wednesdays and Thursdays, she had site duty; a noncommittal mask of emotions, paired with bright red lipstick and a silver tongue got her through the excruciating pain of making deals with misogynistic bosses and their pretentious secretaries.

Every other day, she dealt with calls- so, so many of them. Her “phone” anxiety had been pulverized, destroyed and utterly discombobulated- not because she’d grown into a confident and strong young lady, but because her job had demanded it be so.

After all, that was all introverts like her could do, wasn’t it? Slide on the belie of a merry socialite and drudge through life.

And finally, after weeks of waiting- the day had come. Today was the day she’d finally get to rest- ignore any and every form of human civilization and amalgamate with her bed into an unidentifiable, yet extremely satiated amorphous blob.

Layla opened up the book she’d gotten from the library- Frankenstein had been one of her all-time favourites. This was a book she was looking forward to experiencing, once more. Settling down into the snug warmth of her blankets and pillows, Layla let herself sink into the bliss of the narration Mary Shelley was providing.

Around a half-hour in, Layla was rudely awoken from her immersion by the front door creaking. She hadn’t invited anyone- the whole point of this vacation was to get away from any homo sapiens. What could that noise have possibly been? Layla felt a shiver run up her spine; her book had already sent her into a headspace of pure panic, and this was not helping. Sliding a hand over the cricket bat next to her bed, Layla slinked out of her room. Pressing herself up against the wall, Layla counted to three and spun around into the hall.

“WOAH- Layla sweetheart, you good there?”

Layla opened her eyes, bat still raised in an attacking stance. Her parents looked at her in mild fright, stepping closer to her once they saw that she had processed the situation.

“You mentioned today was your free day, so we decided to visit!”

Layla internally groaned. She loved her parents, she really did- but today was supposed to be her day. That sweet sense of recuperation had flooded her veins for a total of 30 minutes, and 30 minutes alone. Why was luck never in her favour?

Brushing aside her mind voice vehemently complaining, Layla flashed a bright smile at her parents.

 “I’m glad you’re here! I’ve missed you both.”

Her mother pulled her into a hug, mumbling into her hair about how her “poor baby had been struggling” and how she had “barely any fat left on her bones”. 

“Say, Layla. Did you invite somebody over?” Her dad gestured to the porch. “I saw another pair of shoes outside?”

Layla raised an eyebrow. Of course she hadn’t- after all, there was no reason she’d want people in her house today of all days.

 “No, dad. I’ve been alone all this while.”

“Huh. Well, they must be your shoes then.” 

Her father shook his head softly, chuckling to himself.

“We’ll be off to the guest room then, honey!” Layla’s mom picked up their bags, and swept off into the left wing of the house.

Yet indeed, what were those shoes about? Layla felt that familiar tingle take over her body once more. She felt watched- she knew that there were a pair of eyes on her; raking over her body relentlessly. What in blasphemy was this sensation? Well, she could investigate later. Sleep would always come first. 

Layla trudged up the stairs back to her room. She felt the sensation getting stronger; her hair had gotten all spiky, and the disgusting feeling clung to her like an unwanted scent- putrid and slimy, forming an impenetrable cloak over her. She carefully slid her door open, only to find-

“Meera?”

Her best friend sat on her bed, legs crossed over on two pillows stacked up on each other. She noticed that the window was open, and it took barely a few seconds for her to put two and two together. 

“Hey.” Meera mumbled back, her voice devoid of any care in the world. Layla chuckled, sinking into the bed next to her. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I’m here ‘cause I wanted to be” Meera smirked, her eyes sliding down to Layla’s. 

“I did tell you I wanted nobody in today, didn’t I?” 

“I figured I’d be the exception.” 

Meera pulled up the dog eared book Layla had left, and spread it out on her legs. “Come on, let’s read together!”

 Layla sighed. It was never good when your best friend was aware of how weak you were for her. 

“Sure, I’ll tell my parents about you having broken into my house a little later”. She received a rather aggressive eyeroll at that.

It took the two of them barely any time to settle into a comfortable silence. Layla felt the peace envelop her again; she could finally recharge. She needed her extroversion battery up and going for the next few weeks, after all. 

Meera seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep. Her head had been constantly sinking down onto her chest, and it was quite obvious that it was time to call it a night. 

However, Layla couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off. That eerie feeling- it hadn’t gone away. Not only had it stuck to her, but she could feel it worsening as time went by. It almost felt as though the person watching her was…. right beside her.

And then, they heard it. A blood curdling shriek, that sounded startlingly like her mother. Layla and Meera froze, staring at each other in absolute confusion. 

A slow drag. Shrrk…. Shrrk… shrrk. That was all they could hear, before the noises stopped right at the door to Layla’s room. Meera stood up, walking over to the door. 

“Meera? I don’t think we should do anything. Let’s just stay-”

“Hey, come in. Everything’s gone according to plan, now all that’s left is to finish her up.”