Don't Breathe

“I saw him today.”

“Who?”

“Flake.” My eyes stung from the tears clinging to it. There was no doubt they were red already and swollen from the loss of sleep in the past few days. 

I pressed my lips together, taking time to search the words lost somewhere deep inside me. 

“He was standing there, just watching me, I could feel his eyes on me like—like he was there. Like he was standing right there.” I stared at him, curious about his answers. I knew how I sounded and the dread of believing I might actually be —crazy—caused my pale lips to tremble. 

“Flake is dead, Jane, you have to let him go.” 

An involuntary deep breath escaped my lungs. I expected him to say nothing less than that. I expected him to give me that look, the one that said, ‘You might just be going crazy.'

It was how he saw me. Damn! He was a therapist but judging is human and even as he struggled to keep his looks unaffected, from the way he casts his eyes away from my gaze, he knew just well enough that he was failing. 

“I know he's dead but I can't help it. I can't turn my eyes and not see him. Not think I saw him.”

“What you are experiencing is a stage of grieve. He was your boyfriend for six years and you loved him but you must let him go.”

Matt placed his hand on my bare thigh, sending cold chills down my body and a sudden warmness where his hand soothed. I stared at his hand for a long second, trailing up his hairy arm till my eyes stood just against his thin red lips, shaded by curly black beards.

Five days ago, we kissed on this same booth and body fighting against each other. Our body reverenced each other brushing blissfully, in ways they always did, on this same sofa where I now seat, distance away from him. 

Now, his hand against my thigh only sent an even more eagerness to consume all of him. I leaned forward, following the direction of my eyes. My mouth dropped as I yearned for more of him. 

He withdrew from me immediately.

“We can't do that for now, Jane. The police are snooping around, don't want them thinking we had anything to do with his death and even if they don't, I could lose my license.” 

I pulled back to my seat, straightening my skirt to regain some modesty in the unsettling discomfort that has just ended up in my chest. 

I suddenly felt regretful for mentioning it, maybe I should have kept everything to myself but I had to tell myself he really was dead, I needed someone to say it.

I reached home. I turned around the three-bedroom where I had spent six years of my life with Flake. All those years, it had felt like home, away from my crazy grandmother and abusive mother. Now, I felt like something worse than the demons I had run from had escaped hell and now haunted me. 

Stealing a peek at the neighbor’s house, the dog wagged its tail at me and I sighed, at least there was my head's up. I opened the door, pulled my grey coat on the rack before kicking my shoes off.

There’s a recklessness to how I did this like I eagerly wanted to peel off the clothes from my skin. 

I pulled a brown bottle from a disposable bag, hauling myself carelessly towards the bedroom as I ripped pieces of my clothes off. I turned the knob of the bedroom door, ensuring it was locked then collapsed on the bed, gulping down more of the half-empty glass. 

Two things were certain. If I was just phasing through grieve, then I would be too drunk to do so. If there was an intruder, then he would not get in when the door and windows were locked. 

I gulped more of the burning liquid just before frazzling away.

I heard the door creak open and then closes. The drink must have been getting to my head or the sleepiness had been the reason. Then footsteps, approaching, followed by the creak of stairs. 

My eyes shot open in panic as sweat suddenly began to caress my forehead. I remained mute, listening. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! My lips trembled, keeping them from making a sound became a hassle. 

The silence following the steps was deafening and the darkness blinding. I wrapped myself in the bedsheet staring at the door, confused about what my next step must be

I swear, I saw the knob twist through the darkness then clattering of keys as they dangled before penetrating through the keyhole. I remained soundless with my thoughts scrambled across the room.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I ravaged the bed silently, searching for my phone while keeping my eyes at the door. Oh, fuck! I fucking left the phone in my coat. 

I felt the hand gripping the cold stainless knob on the other end. The door swung open and there he was, my stalker, standing like a silhouette, coated by the darkness with only his eyes piercing through the darkness.

“Ahh!!!” I screamed through the darkness ignoring the complaints the neighbors might make. 

The door slammed close, the steps hurried down the stairs and then the main door. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I scurried after him pulling Flake's baseball bat. 

Outside, the dog had begun barking. It didn’t when the man had gotten in but surely must have scared the fuck out of it when he sped off. 

I pulled my phone out my coat, my hands still quaked from fear and chills still ran through my unclad body. I dialed Matt’s number waiting impatiently but it went straight to voicemail. 

Fuck! What if he comes back? Fuck you, Jane, fuck you.

I pulled the coat from the rack and pulled it over my body. I don’t remember if I locked the door or not but I belligerently took cynical rapid steps through the night, dashing towards Matt’s, running past every dark corner of the street. 

The good thing about having a therapist living blocks away was that you could leave when you had lost the last of your sanity.

 I scurried faster, barefooted till I could see the light illuminating the front of a white ceramic door. The side of the house was surrounded by plants and the window obstructed by a brown curtain. 

It was a single bedroom with a small kitchen and a ceramic vase on a cut out dining with two chairs on the opposite side of a wooden dining table. I didn’t have to see it because I have been there before.

Moving a few streets away from my house, I had come to settle the racing pulse and gradually have rational thinking but I must tell him, I must tell Matt.

I reached the door and knocked on it softly. After a few minutes and no answer, I pounded on it harder. The door pulled open and Matt stood softly in his blemished white pajamas. His beards looked rough and tangled just like his hair, no doubt his bed had done its work.

“Jesus! Jane, what are you doing here?” He mumbled groggily.

“I saw him again. I saw him, right in front of me. God! Please believe me.” I burst out like a maniac in front of him, unable to hold back myself.

"Jane!”

“No… Tell me you believe me. Look at me Matt, tell me you believe me.” I turned back scouting the street for any silhouettes.

Matt shook his head. He could not bring himself to look at me.

“Jane, stop doing this to yourself.”

“I killed him, Matt. I killed him and he is back to haunt me.”

“Jesus! Fuck! You did what?” Matt stood in front of his door forming a blockade, except he was shielding me from coming in.

“Everything okay, sweet?” A voice came from inside.

Matt was with someone, a lady. Fuck him! He was fucking someone else. 

“Yes, go back to bed.” He replied before turning towards me.

“Go home Jane, we will talk about this later.” I opened my mouth to mutter something but the door shuts in front of me.

I stood fixated in front of his house, raised my and to knock again but decided against it. It was no use now; I was on my own.

I hurried out the compound, stood in the middle of the street and stared through the darkness. Where would I go from here? I turned around but nothing, no one, no to stay with. 

I hastily walk through the streets passing blocks with no idea where next to turn. 

I reached my house again, wanting to open the door, I realized, listening to Liam and Sasha’s argument all night was a better option than death. 

I opt for the next compound again and the dog began to bark. At first, it barked towards me or so I thought until I saw it pulled its chain, barking against the fence. 

I turned to see what it screamed against and my heart fell immediately. Fuck! Fuck… My brain cursed as I stared at Flake standing on the other end of the road, wearing the same cloth from the lake. A grin crossed his face, one that was in no way welcoming. My eyes trailed down his hand reaching the knife that drizzled with blood tapping off the tip. 

It was the last thing I remember, his face with an evil grin just before I collapse to the ground.