《Angie》


 Angie - [Part 1]

    Angie


    I woke to the sound of water running through the pipes on the other side of the wall next to my bed. My first thought was to obey the cries of my bladder and shamble over to the restroom. Only after I was done and had made my way over to the sink did I begin to think through what I''d heard. That wall faced the front yard. There was no way I could hear pipes through it.


    Returning to my darkened bedroom, I cupped an ear to the smooth plaster. Nothing now. The neighbor''s motion-activated light was on. With all the cats roaming around, that happened a lot. Rubbing my eyes and figuring the sound had just carried through the house from the bathroom or something, I checked the clock.


    It was after 1 AM. I glared at the clock, but it refused to change its digits. I''d only slept ten minutes. Which was pretty good for me at this time of night. I needed it after my unsettling trip home.


    Cracking my wrists a few times, I rubbed at the abrasive sheen of hair along my cheeks. I could shave, but I would probably have to shave it again in the morning.


    I worked stocking at an always-open big-box store from early afternoon to midnight. I sometimes took a nap after work and had something around the early morning for a meal. Usually, it was a longer nap than this. I plopped down on my wrinkled covers and rubbed at my eyes. I could probably try for another ten.


    My sleep hours were weird long before this job. Blame quirky roommates in college and even stranger ones soon after. I sometimes missed those long, philosophical debates about the nature of the universe at two in the morning. I shut my eyes, but my mind stayed right where it was and nudged me gently with a lingering thought: The pipes only made running noises when the washing machine turned on or the dishwasher was finishing its cycle and had to dump the waste water. Neither of those things should be happening, especially with my current roommates (except for Matt) visiting family up north.


    My throat gave a groan to my brain as my body bent up and rose from the bed. The dishwasher looked cold, clear, and dry on the inside with no sign it had been used all evening. The washing machine was also dry and even had some of Matt''s forgotten dirty clothes within. I dumped a little soap in and started it up.


    When the cycle came to the point I would''ve heard the water flowing, I was sitting on my bed. What I heard wasn''t quite what I''d heard then. The flowing was far off and clearly on that side of the house, not next to my bed. Then came the epiphany moment for my brain: The yard!


    I bolted from the bed, flipped on the outside light, and rushed out the front door. I expected to find deep pools of water saturating the lawn and spilling in torrents on the sidewalk. But it was completely dry. I rubbed my head and shrugged. At this point, I figured the only explanation was a half-waking state where I imagined it. I glanced across the yard. The fog was much better now compared to earlier.


    The light only lit an area near the porch. It dimly touched the vast front bushes and the massive tree which cloaked the front of the house. Hazy, tendril-webbed shadows from the branches laced their way across the grass. The gray, diamond-patterned metal fence separated this house from the one next door. Their tree had been cut down some time ago to expand their porch into an area where they often had meals. The harsh light from their side blasted through the fence and made another pattern which bent away.


    I frowned. A bit of shadow shifted along the far edge of the house, at a small path which led back about ten feet to a large gate which separated the front yard from the back. I figured it was just the wind playing with a bit of branch, but the air was still. Then I heard the gate creak, as though slowly, achingly opened.


    I ran back inside, locking the front door behind me, and immediately went for the large flashlight which was always on one of the living room couches. I cradled it in my hands and stopped to listen. In picking up the light, I was sure I''d heard movement around the back of the house. Clicking the switch made the light cast a wide, harsh beam on the far wall. Motes of dust drifted in its path. I clicked it off.


    I took a deep breath and approached the rear window. The drapes were drawn, as always. Moving to the side, I looked across one and to the backyard with a sliver of drape pulled aside. The back light was off. So the whole area was wrapped in darkness, aside from an amber glimmer from a nearby streetlamp. I clicked the light on and panned it across.


    The beam cut through the dark, exposing malnourished grass and brick columns. The leftover beams of the previous owner''s doghouse looked like mottled mud and ice. The dense light made me jump a few times as it cast harsh, false shadows. Slowly, I approached the window and edged back the drape enough to get a better look. I idly wished I''d bought a gun or at least grabbed a long knife.


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    My tension ebbed as the beam traced and showed nothing out of place. I scouted the side window where I could see the garage. The door was secure. Well, secured meaning it was closed by the small boulder we always used to keep it shut because it never seemed to close any other way. But the boulder was propped right up against the door.


    Dipping my shoulders, I gave a few more shines out the window and made my way around the small bar area and into the dining room. I was about to turn back and set my light down when I noticed there was a small gap in the side sliding door. This sometimes happened because it was old and usually only secured with a loose latch and a long, wooden bar in the metallic rail. Pulling aside the thin, manila blinds and being careful not to disturb the loose one, I glanced at the latch and down at the depression. The narrow bar wasn''t in all the way, it was to the side with enough space to push the door open. I put my hand on the security latch, it was also undone.


    I took a breath, tried to avoid looking through the openings in the door to the carport outside, and pressed the latch together as securely as I could manage. Then I tucked the bar in so firmly that it looked almost impossible to remove. I dusted my hands and smiled at my handiwork.


    Nagging thoughts plagued me. If this door was open, then it was quite possible someone could''ve gotten into the house. It wasn''t as though this was a scary neighborhood, but I had plenty of horror stories from Matt and his family about always locking your doors. To set my mind at ease, I made my way around the dining room and over to the side door, which was right next to the computer room. The room itself was dark. Flipping the switch on, I glanced around. All seemed in order. The door was at the far end.


    I gave the knob a test turn. But it slipped in my grasp. I stared at it. I shook my head and tried to rationalize it. Maybe Matt went out this door when he left and just forgot. Didn''t seem likely. The small cloth we put in front of the bottom to keep out the cold in winter was still there. No one could''ve used it lately. But it was open. I whirled around in place, sure that there had to be something standing behind me, something scary. But it was all computer parts, old jewel cases, and nothing more.


    Making my way back to the dining room after securing the lock on that door, I sighed and tried to think of all the ways this could''ve happened without someone breaking into the house. I cursed to myself, eyed the long knives, and grabbed one as I made my way through the kitchen. I set the light on the drainboard and gripped the knife tightly. As I walked, I started to turn on the lights, one by one.


    The one which lit the dining room. The dimmer for the bar area. The overhead fluorescents. I walked towards the living room and gave only a glance at the front. I jerked back on my knees and nearly tripped.


    The front door, the one I''d run through and locked, was wide open. A gaping hole of blackness from the front porch was only dimmed by the gray screen and the fuzzy glow of the dusty streetlight. I just about threw up right there.


    I rushed to the front and sealed it shut. I turned the deadbolt, hooked the chain, and pushed the latch we never used across. It was fucking locked now!


    I squeezed the handle of the knife in my fist so tightly I could feel the rough ridges biting into my flesh. I turned back and looked down the hallway, hoping against all hope I wouldn''t see anything else out of order. The lamp over by the couch was blazing, as I expected.


    I had to check everything from the front to the back and make sure. I took a deep breath and eyed the front room a little in the dark and quickly flicked on the light. Half of them were burnt out but there was enough to see into all the corners. I checked behind a couch and glanced back to the hallway to make sure no one tried to sneak up on me. Once satisfied, I kept my back to a wall at all times and went room by room. I glanced into the laundry with its single, frail bulb in the ceiling. Clear.


    I checked the coat rack and the closet just to be safe. As I made my way through the rest of the house, I felt my heart settle down and I only kept my knife at my side instead of pointed out in front of me.


    All the bedrooms and bathrooms were fine and undisturbed. I kept glancing to see if someone doubled back on me. I eventually rechecked the side doors. The rod was firmly in the same place and the deadbolt set. Another check of the front door gave me just what I hoped for, a sealed and locked door.


    I settled onto the edge of the hallway and bent my head down. Tiredness crept over me and I clenched shut my eyes a moment. I sat there, half-expecting to hear something terrible. But the house was still. It didn''t even make any settling noises. I cracked my neck and sighed.

 Angie - [Part 2]

    Part 2


    Pushing aside possibilities that someone was in the house and hiding very well, I tried to come up with explanations that didn''t require an intruder. I added onto thoughts of roommates leaving doors unlocked with misremembering whether I closed the front door behind me or not. Or just not closing it right or securely. I''d just run around the house in blind terror and shock. But my muscle memory was indisputable. I was absolutely sure I''d closed it completely...


    Rubbing my lips, I walked over to the big, woolen black couch and settled in. It was all-consuming and deep. Perfect for hiding from my worries. No one from the door would see me in it. And, my traitorous mind whispered, I wouldn''t see anyone coming at me from behind. I could see the other, longer same-color couch against the wall with an ocean painting hanging above it and a couple of crumpled gray blankets from where Matt liked to snooze when he got home.


    Digging myself into the cushions, I settled and let the tiredness be swallowed up by the couch. I shut my eyes and gave a noiseless yawn. I just rested my eyes. For how long, I didn''t know. But it felt like a while.


    When my eyes bent open, the first thing they sighted was the other couch. I watched it. Same as always. Then I frowned. Not the same. Something was different. I wondered if I''d shifted a bit and that was it. My waking mind was clear enough to tell me something was wrong. I edged back on the couch and surveyed the other one carefully.


    Yes, something had changed. The blankets. They''d been wrinkled and bunched up before. Now, they sat swollen, rounded. Like something was under them. Or someone. The shape. I looked over the shape and wondered where I left my knife. It wasn''t a huge form. Not obvious. But it was big. Large enough to be a person.


    But it wasn''t moving, and the mass was completely covered. I took a slow breath through my nose. I wanted to have the knife. Where was the damn knife? I tried to think. Maybe by the hallway. Too far to go back for. I couldn''t turn from the mass. Again, it wasn''t huge.


    I tried not to make the springs squeak as I pushed up from the couch. Still, I could feel a little groan slide past my ears. It felt like a scream broadcast everywhere. I watched the mass attentively. It didn''t stir at my noise.


    I kept crouched and tried not to scuff the carpet. Standing over the mass, I tried to sense if it was breathing. I couldn''t tell, but it was ridged and a bit loose in spots. I didn''t take a breath. My lungs ached.


    Reaching a hand down, I felt my thumb quivering. I wasn''t sure where to touch the material. What would happen if I did the impossible and actually pulled it back? I tried not to think about it. Just act, just pull it away. I could feel the coarse fabric of the blanket against my hand. Was there warmth? I wasn''t sure. Before I could debate or fear, my fingers seemed to act on their own, they gripped the mass of blankets and pulled them aside.


    The couch was bare. Mostly. There were a few damp spots near the back. I cursed to myself and wondered if Matt had left a drink on the couch again. He''d done that before and it took forever to get the smell of cola out of the material. With a sigh, I searched the rest of the blankets. They were a bit wet too, but there was nothing underneath.


    Bunching them up so the wet part was inside, I dumped the blankets in the wash and checked the couch. There were some dark, wet stains. I took out the cleansers and treated the material. I couldn''t smell any particular odor. Probably was just water but it was hard to tell and rubbing it didn''t leave behind any traces I could see. When it dried, I turned over the cushions and sighed.


    Cleaning took my mind off the unfounded fear of someone underneath. As I heard the washer go, I sighed and wondered if I should attempt to rest some more. It was just after two in the morning. I was beginning to feel a little hungry.


    I chuckled to myself and sighed. I should''ve called someone, even if it was the cops, to set my mind at ease. But my memory of the events nudged me and told me that nothing had actually happened but too much imagination and some dumb mistakes in not locking doors. And the shadow was probably just a light-exaggerated cat trail. Some part of me didn''t believe a word of those explanations. Still, I could only shrug.


    Grabbing my wallet, my reliable cell phone, and my keys, I stood before the front door for several long moments and stared it down. It didn''t do anything. I half-expected it to growl.


    I rested my hand on the knob but didn''t turn it till I had a few seconds to really absorb the sounds around me. The washing machine was slowly going through the motions, which meant the pipes groaned but that was all.


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    Opening the door slowly, I looked out. The light was off. I went over to the switch and flipped it. It blasted the front porch with light. Moving slowly, I felt the lock and secured the deadbolt before closing the door. Then I tested the knob a few times before I was satisfied. That done, I looked over my shoulder at the porch. Nothing but me. I gave a glance over to the side area. The neighbor''s lights were off, which left that area a total mass of darkness with only a dusting of light from the porch lamps and the streetlights. Not nearly enough to show anything. The moon was a nail sliver and not much help either.


    For two long breaths, I considered checking to see if the gate had been opened recently. But I really didn''t want to do that. My car was closer than that unknown space of trees, roots, dirt, and who-knew-what-else. I backed away till I was right next to my car.


    It was an older one, turn of the millennium, and a deep, dark green which looked closer to navy at night. I usually only had good memories of my car. Zooming across the endless desert with the Zen of a steady wheel. Tracing the darkened streets for food after everyone had gone to bed. But tonight was different. I''d had a scare on my drive back.


    The memory already felt dreamlike in so short a time. It was foggy after a bit of drizzle leaving work. I decided to take the old road because no one ever took it, especially at night, and that meant light traffic.


    The slow journey had been uneventful. My eyes started to blink for longer and longer. I thought about a coworker who offered to drive me home, but I didn''t want to impose.


    I could feel the machine-gun thumps of the lane markers and my eyes darted open. I groaned. I needed something to keep me awake. I flipped on the radio and let it search till it came to rest on an old Rolling Stones song. I listened, but I still felt just as drowsy. So I rolled down the window to catch the cool night air on my head. That helped, but I still gave long blinks as the mottled haze of the foggy night passed by. I slowed a little more and yawned. The song crooned in my ear and the melody actually made me even sleepier. For a long moment, my eyes closed completely.


    WHAM!


    I felt that all through my body. The car shuddered and swerved off. I gripped the wheel and slammed on the brakes. The song played on. It sounded so damn loud. I tried turning it off, but I was flailing for the buttons and I couldn''t find the right one. Forgetting the radio, I looked out the window and all around. There was nothing.


    I looked behind. Nothing as well. I backed up gingerly along the side of the road, realizing it was probably the wrong thing to do. I wondered if my car was all messed up. I pondered the possibilities. My heart raced all the while and my eyes stared. I knew I had to be careful because this side of the road was right next to the main storm drain of the local river. I could hear a swift, flowing sound of water very close by. I stopped and realized I''d have to get out.


    Carefully, I stepped out of the car and checked all around. I couldn''t see much beyond the red glow of my parking lights. There were a lot of dense weeds which looked like piled static. The frail fence separating the road from the wash looked like a crushed human ribcage. It was in a sorry state. Countless drunk drivers had completely disregarded it or broken it in places. I wondered if I had curved so far over as to glance against it. I couldn''t see anything else I could''ve hit. I paced a few steps away from my car, but it was nothing but blackness and the moist soup of the fog.


    Walking back, I made sure to check the sides of my car. The same song still played on the radio. I traced a hand along the edge, but I didn''t feel anything out of place. My side mirror was a little back but then I sometimes forgot to put it in the correct position. All the junk in the back seat was undisturbed. I checked slowly along the bumper. It was wet but then it was sitting near a large puddle. It dripped quietly. I blinked against the blaze of the front lights.


    The bumper did have a mashed place across the front and it was coming off towards the back. But then it had that before. Reminders of old fender benders in parking lots. I couldn''t honestly tell if there was anything new on it. The lights were fine. The other side didn''t show any damage either. And, yet, the harsh sound was still reverberating in my head. I had to have hit something. At worst, I figured I''d glanced off a deer. They were common around here. And it had run. At best, I''d just grazed the fence and bounced off. Actually, neither idea left me feeling all that great. But I settled back into my car. The song ended. I drove off. That was all...

 Angie - [Part 3]

    Part 3


    And nothing else happened till I got home.


    I shook my head as I checked my bumper again. I gave it a hearty love tap and looked over the rest. Oh the junk in the back. I couldn''t remember what most of it was, but it had begun to form a hulking mass which almost seemed big enough to bury a person under. There were empty bags from meals long past. Long promised to be removed. Some old books I read when I was parked somewhere without the use of my phone. Depleted boxes of tissue. Leftover papers of so many assortments. A massive (and half-full) jug of water. And a tennis racket, despite the fact I''d not played the sport for ages.


    Looking away from the car, I watched the area near the tree, wondering if something might show itself when my back was turned. But there was nothing. I unlocked the door and slid myself in. With the door sealed, I felt much calmer, despite everything. I turned my key in the ignition.


    The engine started roughly after a bit of hesitation. I worried about it flooding, even though I only had a vague idea what that meant. The car felt like it was wobbling. The engine was going, but it felt off. Like it was trembling. I slowly gave it a little gas. It revved but the shaking didn''t lessen. I was parked on a bit of an incline, but I''d never had problems before. My mind raced with worry that whatever I had struck had done subtle but significant damage. Just as I could think this thought, the wobbling cleared and things felt normal again. There was still the constant rattling that went with a twenty-year-old car, but it was the rattling I''d grown used to. Leaning back into the soft fabric of the seat, I smiled and reached for the parking brake.


    I looked back. I twitched and jerked on the wheel, even though it didn''t do anything. After a moment of shock, I was actually laughing. The shadows of the tree had spilled over the tall, metal fence which none of us had even bothered to close since we moved in. Scared by some shadows, again? The laughs came quickly and cathartically. Smiling to myself, I slowly backed out of the driveway and onto the street.


    I could see the end of the road easily despite the soft traces of lingering fog. It wasn''t enough to make the amber streetlights turn into mottled balls, but the lines of the lights were accented. My headlights looked particularly harsh. Leaning back, I glanced at my phone. Still not too long past two. I reminded myself it was technically Halloween.


    I smirked at that. My family never really celebrated it. There were some bits at school but the usual traditions went over my head. I adopted enough of the occasion for those who were more into it than I. To me, it pretty much just meant a lot more orange and black tinted stuff to unload and sort. Tucking my phone away, I drove down the road. Something shifted with a weighty thump followed by a sudden rush of water.


    I immediately thought about the possible lump on the couch. I braked and turned around. Again, it was immediately clear to me what had happened. The jug of water had tipped over and was rolling back and forth as much as it could. I picked it up and took a long sip from the top. When I set it down, I made sure it was wedged between enough trash that it was sure to stay in place.


    Chuckling to myself, I continued down the road. About half the houses in this area were dressed up in cobwebs and other decorations. There was even an old, faceless wizard standing with a black, empty bowl in his hands. The paper stuff looked a bit soft but the cobwebs were nicely dew-speckled. I made a left at the end of the street, maneuvered around a few small cul-de-sacs, and past a small, nice-looking elementary school my family once considered sending me to. It was too far a trip though, even with bussing.


    I rolled the window down but not as much as earlier. I also kept away from the radio. Call it mere superstition, but I wasn''t eager to do the same thing as before for quite a while. I turned left, away from a long, dark dirt road in the middle of the housing tract. Its end was so distant that the fog actually managed to gobble it up.


    My road followed along the edge of the tract and crossed the nearest major road. The signal light was furiously blinking a bright, fuzzy red over and over. Drivers ambled through, barely stopping before puttering off. I waited long after a guy wove through lanes and made a right onto the road. There was a soft splash with my tires. I hadn''t noticed any water and there wasn''t any further up. I shrugged and pondered a bit of music but just listened to the wind crackling through the open window.


    There were a couple choices for food. On my left at the corner, there was a hot dog place, but it was closed. The other restaurants in the little strip were also shut for the evening. I could go left and see if the town end of the old road had anything open. Sure to just be fast food places though. Turn left or turn right? It seemed like the sort of night for right.


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    I chuckled at a house with glowing pumpkin people attached to the eaves. Just past a firehouse, I came to the main shopping center. The supermarket was shut, as were several of the places on this side. Slowing and pondering, I considered the hamburger place or the taco one. Both had long lines of hungry stoners and random insomniacs. But the taco one was just slightly shorter. I reminded myself they had hamburgers too.


    I settled in at the back of the line and cracked my neck. It sounded like splitting a pencil in half but felt great. Glancing out the window, I noticed there were a couple of older teens sitting by the outdoor eating area of the taco place. One of them had a skateboard and was flipping it around. One yelled randomly for what seemed like no reason and another was bobbing his head. Then there was the one on the end. The girl.


    It didn''t seem like she was with the rest of them. She sat on the curb with her legs arching up and her head dipped down. Her face was hidden in the large, gray hoodie she wore. Her legs were covered by long stockings which rose up to her thighs in a regular black-and-gray banded pattern to a small, clinging pair of black shorts. Her shoes were a thin, glossy pair of dark sandals. Her breasts really showed despite the loose hoodie. A narrow drawstring dangled off one pinnacle. I tried not to stare too much. But I frowned when I noticed she had some blankets behind her. One of them was set on her shoulders and another was bunched up where she was sitting. What I noticed the most, however, was that they were the same type and color as the blankets on my couch.


    My breath quickened before I was even sure why. There were tons of the same sort of blankets sold and Matt''s blankets were just some rough cheapie ones he''d gotten somewhere during a sale. Nothing weird, just coincidence. They probably just looked like the same ones anyway. Although, these did appear a little wet in the same areas where I''d seen the ones on the couch wet. I grit my teeth, shook my head, and rolled my window back up. The car in front of me advanced a little and I moved as far as possible down the line. I needed some music now.


    I searched through the stations, stopped on a classic rock one, and listened to some Queen. I relaxed and softly drummed the wheel. At the peak of the melody, I bobbed my head and added some heavier beats. But the taps suddenly sounded like they were in stereo. Right by my head. My head jerked to the left. A small, pale hand pressed against the glass. Her head was down, still buried in her blankets and hoodie.


    My heart raced but soon settled. I lowered the window cautiously. She spoke in a very soft whisper which felt like no air was being used.


    "Could¡­could you please please give me a ride? I need to get home. Please please."


    Her hand drooped over the threshold of the window. Her fingers were so narrow they seemed like the legs of a spider. I coughed lightly. A car had slipped in behind me in line, so there was no way to drive off.


    I asked her, "How far? I''m¡­just getting a late meal."


    She bowed even more. I could see the side of her cheek. It was as pale as her hands. She assured me, "Not far. I could pay you. I just need to get home."


    Chewing on my lip, I nodded to myself and unlocked the doors. She disappeared a moment before her hand appeared on the other door and pulled it open. The lights came on and the alarm sounded a solemn warning.


    She moved slowly into the passenger seat, the bundle of her head leading first and her legs last. The alarm silenced but the light lingered when she closed the door. She had all those blankets with her.


    I turned down the radio and looked over. She set her blankets at her feet and lowered her hood. I could finally see her face. Her eyes were gray too. Her black hair clung to the side of her hood. It looked like it had been caught up in the wind and she''d had to brush it by hand. It shimmered starkly in the overhead light till it shut off. She adjusted herself in her seat and tugged at her shorts. Her skin looked so pale that I wondered if she was sick.


    I offered, "Would you like the heat on, miss?"


    She brushed a matted lock of hair away from her eyes and said, "It''s fine.¡­and call me Angie." I raised an eyebrow, but dismissed my random thought as a coincidence.


    Angie bent one of her hands toward me. I touched it for a shake. Her flesh felt frigid as it made contact and left my hand feeling much colder when I let go.


    I was about to tell her my name when she interrupted and murmured, "I''m so hungry¡­."


    That was something I could easily believe. I offered to buy her some food, and she gave a slow nod. The line advanced slowly. I sighed and pondered whether to chat with her a bit. She didn''t provide many openings, but I did ask her, "What would you like me to order for you?"


    She told me, "Anything with meat."

 Angie - [Part 4]

    Part 4


    I figured a ground beef burrito would be fine. Asking her for confirmation was met with silence as she bowed her head and shut her eyes.


    And there was silence aside from the rumble of the other cars and murmurs from where people were ordering. I tapped on the wheel but much lighter than usual. It was strange how nervous she made me.


    I tried to counteract that by getting her to talk. I asked, "So¡­what are you doing out so late?"


    Her eyes blinked open, like she''d just awakened from a trance. Her head leveled and she looked out through the windshield. I was about to say something else when she responded, "A party. I was at a party with some friends. Lousy friends. They dumped me. Drove off. Splashed me too with their wheels. I was angry. So angry. I wished I could grab them and throttle the life out of them. The host¡­of the party.. he gave me some blankets. All he had¡­to dry off. But I wanted to go home right away. Before I felt sorry for coming. I wanted out of there. I walked home. A long ways along the side of the road. And then¡­I got really tired. I guess I made it here. So tired¡­" She leaned her head back against the car cushion.


    I noticed when she talked about her friends that there was a different feeling in her voice. Her mouth clenched and seemed to tremble. There was harsh anger. But it drifted away.


    All I could do was nod and tell her, "Wow. Yeah." She didn''t look interested in saying anything else. I went back to slowly drumming on my wheel and put the radio back on. It was just static, as was sometimes the case at this time of night. The local stations stopped broadcasting and it was hard to get the distant ones.


    I glanced over. Her head was all the way back against the seat. Her chest very slowly rose and fell. I couldn''t hear her breath. I filled the silence with a little more drumming and told her, "I just got home from work not too long ago. I usually eat late like this due to weird hours. It''s been a weird night though."


    Still resting on the cushion, she turned to face me. Her gray eyes locked on me as she asked, "Oh?"


    I continued, "Well...you know¡­just weird stuff which can sometimes happen when you''re alone at night and¡­you know¡­the imagination goes."


    She answered simply, "Oh¡­"


    I could''ve stopped there, but I added, "And some sort of near accident as I was driving home. I think I hit a fence." I chuckled roughly.


    After a quiet moment of sustained staring, she asked, "Why do you think it was a fence?"


    I gave her my best shrug and noted, "Actually¡­I''m not sure what it was, but a lot of people hit the fence by the old road in town."


    She asked, "¡­.the old road by the river?" I nodded and she looked away from me.


    And that was it for a while. We moved up a few cars. Then, she suddenly started to sing to herself. It was that song.


    "All the dreams we held¡­soooo close¡­seemed to all go up in smoke¡­let me whisper in your ear¡­Angie¡­Angie¡­"


    Her voice became a small, rough whisper. Then she screamed an ear-splitting scream. I tensed up and glanced around, hoping that no one around thought I was trying to rape or kill her. Her head dipped, and she brought a hand to her nose. It came away smeared with red. I swallowed and fumbled around for a tissue. None left. I handed her some old napkins from the back. She took the paper but merely looked at it as twin, red streaks of blood oozed down.


    I kinda wished I''d checked her for weapons before letting her into my car. It was clear she was disturbed and those blankets could be hiding anything underneath. At least her scream had melded into the screams of some teen girls in a car right ahead and not attracted any weird looks. Although maybe it was better to get some attention¡­if she was dangerous.


    I asked, still a bit of ringing in my ears, "What''s wrong?" Angie cradled her nose and looked at me as she asked me, "Was it you? Was it?" Her eyes were wide and trembling.


    I shook my head and asked her, "Was I what? You''re really weirding me out here. I wanna help you but I''m kinda scared¡­"


    Slowly, her eyes relaxed and she noted, "So am I. So very much. Terrified.¡­"


    I furrowed my lips. We moved up in line. Very close to the speaker. I wondered what I could tell her. Then, suddenly, all the tension vanished from her. She gave a slight laugh and looked to me.


    "What was I saying?" She dabbed her bloodied nose with the tissue.


    I told her, "You were screaming. Then you said you were terrified."


    After a quiet moment, she actually started giggling in a way which sounded more like hiccups. She noted, "Sounds like me¡­What a night¡­" Leaning back against the cushion, she smirked slightly.


    There was really nothing I could say. She gave a deep yawn and leaned her legs back under her like she was straddling the seat. She murmured, "Man¡­I could use some more weed."


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    I couldn''t smell it on her, but drugs were at the top of my theories. I figured on something a little harder though. She brushed at her nose. It looked fine now.


    She glanced over at me and asked, "So, what now?"


    I blinked at her. She looked at me without expression. I told her, "I don''t understand¡­"


    Angie touched a hand to her cheek. "Right. Sorry about that. Sorry about all this. I should go¡­"


    She leaned towards the door. I was tempted to let her go, but I worried about hearing she was dead in tomorrow''s newspaper. So I said, "No, it''s okay. I''ll take you where you want to go¡­so long as it''s alright."


    Crouching down a little, she didn''t say anything. We were right at the speaker.


    I cleared my throat and spoke. I surveyed the menu board and looked back to Angie. She stayed in the same position. I went about my order with my usual and picked a ground beef burrito for her.


    When I was done, I nodded to Angie. Still no reaction. The muffled female voice on the other side of the speaker told me the cost then finished, "...Thank you, ma''am."


    I coughed but didn''t say anything back. I knew my voice was a bit boyish and I got that from time to time. Sometimes I''d make a good laugh of it when I came to the window. Angie didn''t seem to notice.


    Once at the window, I fished out enough money from my wallet. The window operator had long, reddish hair tied into a tight ponytail. She took the money passively. I tried to give myself a deeper voice, but she didn''t seem to notice. She passed the receipt and change to me and said, clearly, "Here you go, miss."


    I had to pause and looked down at the pieces of paper in my hands before I looked over at the red-haired lady. It was a little dark in the car. But still. I shouldn''t have persisted. She was probably just in a weird, automated mental mode at this time of night. But I cleared my throat and called her over. A cook passed behind her.


    She bent her microphone out of the way and gave me an almost accusing look. I thought about how I should phrase what I was about to say. After a short pause, I told her, "My name is¡­"


    Suddenly, my radio turned on full blast. I turned around and glanced at it, not sure why it was on. Angie was on her side of the car, far away from the knob. She could''ve pressed it quickly but the button wasn''t even depressed. I wondered if it was some sort of technical problem. After all the stuff that had broken on my car, I couldn''t put it past the radio to break as well.


    But I didn''t have time to mull on that as the lady in the window said, "What was that? Did you need some condiments or something, miss?" That again. She cupped her ear a little. Maybe hard of hearing, but she could surely see me. I tried to say something but bags of food, my order, were passed to her. I took them from one by one and held them out to give to Angie.


    She wasn''t sitting there. I glanced back and she wasn''t in the back seat either. Not that there would be much room in there for someone to sit comfortable. There was also an old bottle in the cup holder which separated the front seat from the back so there was really no way she could subtly sneak over there. I hadn''t heard the door close and yet it was as sealed as it had been from a moment before. However, I could never go by the door alarm or the overhead light. Neither of them worked consistently since the last electrical repair my car needed. So she could''ve left without me being alerted. Except I didn''t hear any sound of the door opening and closing and I was sure I had a pretty good ear. I had been distracted though.


    The lady in the window interrupted my thought with another female pronoun. I grabbed the last bag from her and made my way down the path. I moved slowly, wondering if I could see where Angie had gotten out. I turned right and traced the side of the parking lot. There was a massive, brown brick wall which didn''t look like it had any way you could hoist yourself up it, especially a small thing like her. The driveway was back quite a distance. Still, she could probably sprint all the way. Didn''t make much sense to me that she would do that though. Shaking my head, the radio station switched to another song. It was that same one. The ''Angie'' one. I half-wondered if something was trying to screw with me.


    I checked over in the passenger''s seat one last time and nearly jumped out of my belt. Angie was back and right where she''d been a minute ago. Only her eyes were wide and glaring right at me. Her mouth clenched. I couldn''t imagine a more intimidating sight from such a slight woman. My mouth hung open and I tried to find words.


    After a trembling moment, she seemed to relax. Her eyes slightly narrowed and she said, "I need to go a few places. You will take me." Her nose looked like it was oozing blood again.


    I wanted to say no. I was going to say no. But there was something in her expression. Not the anger of a moment before. It was something else. I didn''t want to imagine what I might see if I rejected her.

 Angie - [Part 5]

    Part 5


    She directed me from the shopping center and back onto the main street. We took a long road by the hills. The amber rows of light after light made it look more like a stage than a road. There was no one else on it. Not even the slightest glimmer of distant headlights. We splashed in a puddle alongside.


    My grip on the wheel wobbled. I could feel her gaze on me as I looked ahead, pressing, drilling into the side of my head. I tried not to tremble. I took long breaths. I couldn''t figure out why I felt so intimidated by her. She had me turn right onto a road which passed by a cemetery. As we went by, her gaze in my peripheral vision seemed to wane. I could tell she was looking out at the cemetery.


    She had me enter a small housing tract. Many of the houses were dressed up for Halloween with webs and other decorations. She told me to turn onto a particular street. It curved a bit. Then she ordered me to stop by the curb of a certain house. There was a light on in the front, first-story window. It looked about the same as the others in the tract, pale white with mission tiles on the roof. It was lit by a single lamppost from across the street. The porch light was off.


    Angie opened the door on her side and left the blankets on the seat. Neither the light nor the alarm turned on. But I could hear a slight sound as the door opened. She held it open and looked towards the house. I gripped the wheel of the car. She turned back to me, looked at me deeply with her gray eyes, and said, "This won''t take long. Stay here."


    She shut the door with an audible slam and walked up to the porch. Sitting there, I tried to mentally remember what I may have heard when she vanished from the car. I combed through the moment for every sound. There was nothing even close to the sound of that door opening and closing, no matter how possibly muted or ignored. I would hear it. And, even more, I was sure to feel it. I felt nothing. She vanished into the darkness surrounding the front porch.


    I moved a hand down to the key in the ignition. I could just turn it, then release the parking brake and shift into drive. Peel out and spin around to leave. There wouldn''t be much room for a turn, and she could probably get to my car if she ran. But I would be in the car and I could escape her hitting on the window. What if she had a gun though? Her clothes didn''t seem to have any places for such lumps. But she could be hiding it well.


    I suddenly jerked in my seat. If she did have a gun, then I''d just taken her to an unknown location. What if she wanted to kill someone? Those friends at the party perhaps? It was a nuts reason to go kill someone, but I had no idea how crazy she might be. She could do anything. I looked to the porch. I couldn''t see her in the shadows. Maybe it was safe. I might have enough time if she was already inside. I moved my hand down the ignition and thought about turning it. I could do it fast.


    Part of my mind rebelled at my caution. This was just a frail, young woman and I was a man! What was I so afraid of? I was much more of a danger. Sure, I wasn''t that strong, but I had some muscles from all the stocking I did. I didn''t have to be scared. But I imagined her aiming right at my eyes through the glass before my vision went dark forever.


    My heart throbbed. I had to do something. I glanced back at the house. It looked somehow darker. The light. It was off now. The house was dark. I had to turn the key before she came back. I slipped my hand around it. The car suddenly shook right next to me and I yelled out.


    On my side, again. She was at my window. She bent down and said softly through the glass, "Just a few more stops¡­Come on."


    She went around to the other side and opened the passenger''s door. I''d been too tense to lock it. I wondered if I had locked it before. I must''ve just thought about it. She settled into her seat and brushed back her hair. I looked her over. There wasn''t blood on her or any other obvious sign she might''ve done something violent. I glanced at the rise of her chest and wondered if she might be hiding a gun in there. I''d seen that in movies.


    Tapping her foot on the floor, she looked over to me and widened her gaze. I turned the key before she said anything. As I was about to shift into drive, she picked up one of the bags of food on the floor and asked, "Aren''t you hungry?"


    I glanced over at her and eyed the bag she was holding. It was quiet for a long moment. I wanted to ask her what the hell was going on with a determination and strength I could only muster on rare occasions. But she had a presence now which locked away all those possibilities. I responded simply, "Okay¡­"


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    I sat there with the engine idling and quickly ate a burrito from my bag of food. Angie looked at her bag and lightly touched the wrapping. It was more like she was fascinated by it than actually hungry. Eventually, when I was almost done with mine, she set the bag down in the same place.


    I put the rest of my food in the back and said, not really to her in particular, "Later."


    She made no gesture in response but folded her arms into what looked like an uncomfortable position in her lap with one laced tightly with the other. I wondered about it all. A woman who once looked vulnerable and weak, then like a silly stoner. What was she?


    With a gesture of her hand and a look towards me, she commanded me to go on. I felt compelled, but I held back. I looked over at her and said, "No." I didn''t yell it. I didn''t raise my voice. But, in the quiet of the car, it felt much louder than I expected. I watched her.


    At first, she didn''t do anything. Then she turned her head towards me, slowly, like a swiveling owl''s head. Her eyes found me, still, wide, and consuming gray. She said only, "Oh?"


    I suppressed the trembles and responded, "Yeah. This¡­is a lot of driving. I''m doing this¡­out of kindness. And¡­I''ll just take you one more place and that''s your house or wherever you¡­live¡­or you''re walking." I tried to fit some sternness into my words, but her gaze was so inhuman and intense that I didn''t really feel it.


    She was silent. Then she said, "Just four places in all. Two more nearby, then just a little bit further. I can give you some money for it¡­" She reached into a pocket and came out with what looked like a bill.


    Holding it out, a thin smile traced her face as I looked down at the bill. I could tell immediately that it wasn''t a normal bill. But it looked like money. It was hard to read the script, but there was something about it which unnerved me. Just seeing it felt like I was staring down into a gaping abyss. I leaned back and she asked, "Don''t you want it?"


    More than anything I felt so far, I knew that I didn''t want to have anything to do with that piece of paper, whatever it was. I shook my head and told her, "Fine¡­three more places. Then that''s it."


    She answered, "That''s it."


    I pulled away from the curb and made my way back to one of the main streets. The next stop wasn''t far. I just had to take a cross street which passed between two tracts. The house was just another street over.


    I settled against the opposite curb. She made me park facing the end of the street. Harder to drive off. She told me the same as before. This house was a little smaller and there were several lights on, especially the porch one. I sat there, bathed in the dim, amber glow of the streetlight, and waited.


    She approached the house. As she did, the porchlight went out at the same instant. I tried not to think anything of that. She slipped in through the darkness. After a moment, I couldn''t see her on the porch. If I was going to make my move, it was now.


    I eased my hand down to the key but, as I did, I heard a sound like a distant scream. I looked up. The light right next to the door was off now. Then the one next to that. One by one, they turned off. The last one was on the far side. I thought I saw something quickly move towards a window. A shadow with arms out. Reaching, flailing, scared. Then that light went out too. I didn''t need to see more.


    I turned the key. I darted my hand to the hand brake and pulled it. I shifted gears. I tried not to look left or right or anywhere but forward. I had to get out of here now. Somewhere safe and away from her.


    I turned the wheel as tightly to the left as it would go. The car shuddered and trembled and heaved, but I just made it around the curb, skimming the edge, and aimed myself out the opening. I was about to slam on the gas.


    And there she was. Right in front of the car. Standing straight with her hood up. A gray figure of doom.


    She leaned towards the car and smiled at me through the shadows of her hood. I had to lock the door and go around her. But the button wouldn''t work. I had to gun it but, before I knew it, she had the door open and was back inside. She sighed, as though just finishing a quick jog, and remarked, "Halfway there."


    There seemed to be nothing I could do. I sighed as well and took her directions to the next location. It was in the same tract but deeper within. The lights in this area looked like they hadn''t been serviced recently. Half of them were burnt out. And, on the street she led me to, they were all out. I could just see the shadows of houses with a dim glow from the next street. The house she made me stop at had no lights on at all.

 Angie - [Part 6]

    Part 6


    I sat there in the dark as she got out. Condensation dripped from the bottom of the car onto the road with a regular, harsh pinging sound. I made no effort to start the car as she vanished into the darkness again. But, as I sat there, I realized I had my cell phone in my pocket.


    When I was sure as possible she was gone, I plucked it out and turned it on. It took so long to start up. It went through a whole animation and then it had to update the time. I couldn''t do anything. I cursed quietly to myself for getting a slow and cheap (though usually dependable) one. I was afraid of the brightness of the screen in such darkness. I covered it with a hand and dialed the emergency number automatically. I smothered the sound of the expected dial tone with my ear. But that tone didn''t come. There was nothing.


    I tried again. Still nothing. Glancing at the screen, I saw there was just one bar on the far left. Not much signal. And the battery. It was down to two. No¡­down to one. Impossible¡­I was sure I''d charged it up just a few hours ago and it was turned off. It couldn''t be drained. I got the battery warning message, but it still had some energy left in it. I dialed furiously. This time¡­yes¡­it was ringing. Slowly. Too slowly. Like it was a long ways away instead of right next to me. It clicked.


    I wasn''t sure what to say. I opened my mouth, but I waited for the expected dispatcher to speak first.


    "No calls, please. We have just one stop left¡­" Her voice. Right in my ear. Clear as anything. And then my phone blinked out. My heart raced as I tried to turn it on again, but the battery was completely wasted. A moment later, Angie approached the door and opened it wide. I slumped in my seat and waited for her last orders. She set her blankets at her feet and instructed me to leave the housing tract. I lingered a bit, as the only disobedience I could imagine right then.


    This trip was longer. She only told me where to turn and to keep going down a road. As we went, I realized what area we were heading towards. The old road¡­


    It was finally beginning to make sense. And a wild idea crept into my head from all I''d seen. The only real possibility. I had accidentally struck and injured this woman as I was driving home. She had heard the music through the window and seen my license plate. Then she somehow followed me with a vicious and unstoppable grudge. The friends. Maybe those were the other stops. To kill each of them for a crazy, twisted revenge. That had to be it. But I hadn''t heard a gun. She had to have one though. Or something similar. It made sense to me.


    I looked towards her and softly said, "I''m sorry. I''m so sorry for what''s happened to you. I''m so sorry. I wish I could do something. I''m sorry¡­"


    She didn''t turn. She just said one word, with a deep, cat-like growl, "Drive¡­"


    So I did. I drove just as she told me till I was right there by the river. The fence looked as bad as always. I imagined there was another bend in it somewhere. Where I had struck it and glanced this woman. Maybe in the side. Maybe in a part of her body I couldn''t see.


    I tried to apologize again, but she ordered me to pull to the side of the road near where I had stopped before. I pulled the car over. I wanted to cry. My bladder quivered the same way as a time long ago in grade school when I let loose in my pants on the first day of class. I didn''t want to look at Angie. I didn''t want to see what she might be taking out of a hidden place. I didn''t want to know what she might have planned for me.


    I just wanted to get out of there, but I knew I couldn''t run. I set my hands on the wheel and looked right ahead. I tried to listen to her, but I couldn''t hear anything, not even her breathing. And I didn''t want to look. When she finally spoke, it was like a cannon shot compared to the silence.


    "I remember this spot. And I''m sure you do too. You didn''t have to drive a long way from here back to your house. A nice house¡­" As I listened, she mentioned details of my house. Precise details. Even the color of the sheets on my bed and the color of my window drapes. When she was done with all that, I was absolutely sure I''d wet my pants. I wanted to shut my eyes and let it be over one way or another. Maybe she would have pity on me or realize it was just a random accident. I wanted to tell her that, but I felt as though if I said anything then she was sure to kill me.


    She was silent. Then, she added, "And¡­you may go back to that nice house. But I''ll make sure you never¡­ever forget what happened here."


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    I tensed up again, wondering what she might do. Burn something on my face, cut off a finger, claw my eyes out? The waiting was excruciating. I wanted her to do something. If I had really hurt her and she wasn''t crazy then¡­deep inside¡­I knew that I deserved something for that. It had to be done.


    But there was silence. I did feel a little strange though. Maybe woozy. Light-headed to be sure. I felt like I''d been holding my breath. It was too quiet. I had to look. I turned to the passenger side. It was empty except for some blankets on the seat. As I turned my head, a mass of blackness lashed at my cheeks. Was this the attack? It wasn''t really hurting me. It felt more¡­like there was a wig on me. Tugging at it just sent a sharp pain through my scalp.


    Groaning, my voice came out a little like someone had their hand over my throat. I coughed. Too high. Not my voice. Resting a hand on my throat, the contours felt all wrong. I couldn''t find the rough bits of facial hair I was used to as I slid my hand up to my cheek. I felt cold and hot at the same time, like being stuffy in a jacket during an icy blast of wind.


    I looked down. Breasts showed through a gray hoodie. On my chest. In seeing them, it felt strange because I could suddenly sense them. And more. I screamed. As high and long as Angie had before. In fact, I screamed exactly like her. That was enough to make me press my hands to my mouth. Not my hands though. Angie''s gaunt spider hands. They weren''t cold now. More lukewarm. Looking back down, I felt I had to scream again. I looked like Angie.


    I flailed out the door on Angie''s narrow legs and stood by the side of the road. I vomited and staggered against the fence. It shuddered and shifted. In the light cast by the open car door, I shuffled away from where I had thrown up and stared at all I could see. Angie''s breasts again. The shape nearly kindled some arousal in me, but horror smothered it.


    I could see her dark shorts. Leaning against the side of the car, I slid a hand over the fabric between those legs. I sobbed and lolled against the car. All I could think to murmur in Angie''s voice was, "Oh my God¡­oh my God¡­" before I slid down to the edge of the pavement. I leaned away and dry heaved against the ground, foul belches erupting but nothing more.


    It took a while before I could find the strength to lift myself up. The right side of my forehead ached dully. Locks of hair kept finding their way to my face, tracing the foreign features like harsh cobwebs.


    Those long stockings kept sliding down. I pulled them up to hide flashes of Angie''s pale legs. Still clinging to the side of the car, I stopped for a breath and silence. In the silence, came the sound of running water. It sounded just the same as the running water I''d first heard when I woke up from my nap. The same sound. I didn''t want to go anywhere near it. I should''ve tried to look for a flashlight in the trunk of my car, then peer over and scan for something. But I didn''t want to find anything. I just wanted to get the fuck out of here and out of this nightmare.


    I couldn''t even entertain the possibility this was a dream. The sensations were too crisp. The clothes, this body, the sounds. These weren''t the details of any dream I''d ever had.


    The rushing water soon sounded strangely insistent, swelling and echoing over my ears. I shook my head. I didn''t want to go. But I felt drawn towards the fence, towards the edge. I had to reach out with no car to cling to, on uneven ground in the dark. Once I reached the fence, I touched it lightly. It wasn''t something I could be sure of. It could vanish or be an illusion and I''d fall headlong into the bubbling, tumbling dark waters below.


    I looked down the length of the fence. I stared at a narrow, tangled opening in it. A small one. But big enough that I could slip through it, especially with Angie''s body. I could see a single strip of fabric speared through one of the pointing tips of metal.


    I ran back to the car as quickly as Angie''s legs would carry me. I sealed the door and didn''t look back over on that side. I mashed the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine grunted but didn''t turn over. I tried it again and it grunted a bit more, more earnestly but it didn''t get any further. I turned the key so hard I worried it would snap, but it finally started.


    I could hear something thump against the rear window. I shifted the gear. A rubbing sound with light scratching made its way over to the back window on my side. Using Angie''s fingers, I flung down the parking brake. The scratches were stretching out to my window. I thrust the gas pedal down all the way. The car screamed and wobbled along the bumpy, uneven edge.

 Angie - [End]

    END


    I turned out onto the main road and kept driving. I knew the way I was going would take me away from home but, at this point, I wasn''t sure if that was a safe place to go. I remembered there was a cross street further up which would allow me to take the long way back, if I wanted to. I slowed as I glanced at the clear, darkened view in the rearview mirror. I didn''t linger on any glimpse of Angie''s visage. Instead, I felt around and wondered what happened to my wallet and phone.


    The keys were at least the same in the ignition. Only when I came to a small strip mall with a twenty-four-hour liquor market did I start to feel safe that I could stop. I kept the engine idling and searched around. Still so much junk. The bag of food was down there but it looked lousy to my raw stomach and throat. Feeling Angie''s blankets, I didn''t find any weapons, but I did find a small purse and a phone similar to the one I used. I flicked on the overhead light and stared at them. The purse had the same black leather style as my wallet. Unzipping it, I found familiar cards. And a driver''s license.


    The name said Angie Drogan. A small photo showed Angie staring blankly out at me. Shivering, I put it away and tried the phone. Flipping it open and pushing the button, I stared at the title "Angie''s Phone" as it started. The battery was low but not empty. The address book had the names of all my roommates, including Matt. I dialed his number automatically, not sure what I would get.


    Matt answered quickly and responded, "Hey, Ange. What''s up?"


    It was Matt''s voice. I wanted to correct him. I wanted to tell him who it really was. But, right at that moment, I realized I had forgotten my own name. It should''ve been there, but I couldn''t remember it. All I had was Angie''s.


    Matt added, "Hello? Something wrong?"


    I took a breath and tried, "I¡­yeah. Something''s really wrong. I don''t understand. There''s been a lot of really scary stuff. And I''m not sure I want to go home¡­"


    Clawing at memories, I told him about the doors being open and the shadow I saw. Then going for a drive to get away. I left out everything else.


    Matt, always the protector, immediately asked me more questions, especially, "Are you safe now?"


    I tried to answer them as best I could. I knew he could hear the beginning of tears in my voice. Matt assured me he was coming home as soon as possible and urged me to call the police if I needed to. I felt a lot better listening to him, even though Angie''s body breathed with my every breath and her voice spoke my every word.


    As I ended the call, Matt finished quickly, "I love you. Be safe." This caught me off-guard but, almost automatically, I repeated, "You too. I will." I pressed the "End" button before I could hear his reply.


    I clutched the phone and peered around. Someone was standing towards the side of the liquor mart, just behind a large, old elm tree. They weren''t moving from that spot. I started the car and then took another look. They weren''t behind the tree anymore. I peeled out of the parking lot to the other opening and drove down the street. I didn''t look back.


    I drove around a bit, feeling traces of sweat drying on Angie''s body, and finally stopped at an over-lit shopping center with a competitor big-box store to the one I worked at and called the police.


    I held the phone away from my ear for fear that Angie''s voice might scream in it. The ringing took several long moments before a male operator picked up and asked the nature of my emergency. I didn''t hold back any of my tears. I told them all that I had said to Matt and kept the other details out. I did confabulate a phone call which was a blend of Angie''s real answer and her knowing what the inside of my house looked like. It was enough for the operator to reassure me that the police would be by soon and to make sure I was somewhere safe.


    I felt myself calming down even more with his words. I was just about to end the call when I heard a flash of static, not strange for how lousy the signal sometimes was on my usual phone. But the static was regular, like a cascade of running water. Then a sound like scratching, the same as I''d heard against the car. I shut the phone off and drove out of there.


    I went by the house several times. I expected something strange. I expected the lights to turn on and off again. But it was shockingly normal. Everything was as I had left it. But I didn''t want to go inside. I circled around the brighter sections of the neighborhood several times before the cops showed up right behind me.


    With them there, the creepy feelings waned. I pulled the car into the drive and took them inside. The house actually felt cozy now, despite the fact I was navigating it in a body that wasn''t mine. I showed them the sliding door and they considered dusting for prints as one of them took my statement. They stayed a little while, and I gave them some drinks as thanks. The younger one, tall and muscular, gave me the sort of looks which I never expected from¡­another man. It was deeply unsettling, but I forced a smile to look the part of a scared but relieved girl.


    When we made our way over to the room with the two couches, I noticed the gray blankets were gone. I bent back my head and realized that was because they were on the floor of my car. Which was crazy¡­


    I cradled my head as they said they would search around the outside of the house for any "signs of forced entry". I let them and clung to the couch. Even with them outside, the ill feelings stayed away. I sat there and waited. I could hear them walking around the house slowly. The beams of their flashlights scanned the yard. I leaned back and cradled my stomach. It wasn''t quite as sour but the strange shape of it now set me on edge. I hid Angie''s chest behind an end pillow and took a long breath. I glanced out the window.


    One of the cops was standing all by himself with the dim cascade of the streetlight creating a rough silhouette through the drapes. I watched the form and tried not to breathe too fast. The shape didn''t look as tall as either of the cops. Although the shape was hard to tell as anything but human. And it looked like the head was turned right at me sitting there on the sofa. Angie''s legs trembled as I tried to stand and had to grab the other sofa. I looked over at the window. I was sure the head was following me. I rushed into the kitchen and away. But there was another shadow through the sliding door, twisted against the thin blinds. There was a knock. I screamed out.


    A voice yelled to me. Matt''s voice. I rushed over to the sliding door and unlocked it. Matt stood there in his work clothes with a concerned expression on his face. He wrapped me up in his arms and shot questions and concerns at me. I trembled from the way he held me. It felt so personal, so close. Nothing like before. It didn''t help.


    After a good, careful check of the whole area, there were no signs of an intruder found and no physical evidence. There were still friendly smiles on the faces of the cops. Matt defended me with scary little anecdotes from family. The cops promised to drive by the house a few times before they left the area.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    With them gone, it was just Matt and me. Some dark part of my fears wondered if he might morph into a phantasmagorical version of Angie as soon as they left. But he remained as he was, kind familiar smile and all. He rubbed my shoulders and brushed my hair. It just reminded me of how much my body had changed.


    He turned on the TV and some of the super early morning programs lightened the mood. He started to recede from me, put the stuff in his pockets away, do some tidying up. I considered if I wanted to see my room and how it might have changed. Eventually, I had to look. I gawked like I had accidentally wandered into someone else''s space.


    The bedspread was bent back like it had been, but the pattern was a rippling, deep blue instead of brown. Light and dark blues covered the walls like a sea. There was a gray lamp in the corner. I made sure every light in there was on. I took one glance at the skirts and blouses hanging in the closet and quickly shut the door. At least my games and books were still there. I almost settled on the bed, but I didn''t want to close my eyes or hear those impossible water sounds again.


    Instead, I roamed around the bright parts of the house and listened to the sounds of a comedy show rerun. The clock said it was right before a quarter till five in the morning. The sun was sure to be up before long. I jumped when I heard water running in a nearby room. But I relaxed when I realized it was just Matt taking an after-work shower. My bathroom and shower were in the room right next to his. And there were no windows to worry about looking out.


    I shouted to Matt that I was going to take a shower too. He yelled back that he promised not to use up all the hot water. I answered, "Take your time."


    I liked this particular bathroom and kept it well. My toothbrush clung to the wall in its little slot right next to my razor, which looked different. My brown towel was now deep gray. I left the door open.


    I turned to face the mirror and tried not to be shocked by Angie''s face staring back at me. There was no dried blood around her nostrils. Her gray eyes held fear instead of intensity. My fear. Her hair pooled around the hood and spilled out. In this light, she didn''t look quite as pale. Maybe it was because I was alive and she wasn''t. I grimaced and shook my head. The reflection mimed the gesture perfectly.


    I sighed and looked down at the sink. I stared at the faucet. Reaching out, I turned the hot water knob. I paused and listened to the sound of running water. I cupped Angie''s hands to splash her face. The water felt warm and refreshing.


    I thought about how I would slip off the hoodie as I reached for a towel to dry my hands. I set a hand on the knob to turn off the water.


    The sink creaked a little. The pipes rattled. The steam off the water vanished. It was cold. I could feel it. It flowed thicker. The sound felt heavy against the basin and the water was dark and ugly.


    Panting, I twisted the knob to shut it off. The strange water lingered longer than usual but flowed down the drain and away, leaving no sign it was ever there. I braced myself and let out a sigh.


    Dripping. I heard dripping in the basin. I looked down. Runny red marks on the white porcelain. My nose felt hot and wet. I reached a hand up to touch it. My fingers were smeared in blood. Drip drip. It wouldn''t stop.


    Suddenly, water rushed out of the faucet despite the knob not being touched. It stormed through, cascading in the sink, roaring. My nose kept dripping blood, which was swallowed up by the rising water in the sink. I leaned back and noticed, out of the corner of my eye, there was a bright glinting in the mirror.


    I looked up, looked right at the mirror, and screamed.


    A car was coming at me! It roared like a beast. I dodged away. The ground below me felt wet and slick. I stumbled and screamed for the car to stop. Please please stop!


    The driver''s head was down. He didn''t see me. It almost seemed like he was asleep, the car sliding towards me in the night on its own, possessed by dark malice. Mangled, silver teeth cut into my frail hoodie as I pushed my tiny body through a needle-hole thin gap in the fence. The dark breath of the car threatened to draw me back and inhale me.


    Somehow, I hadn''t been crushed. Alien, feral shrieks cut through the night like the metal beast had been denied its prey. My flash of relief lasted the span of a racing heartbeat as I tumbled through the darkness and into a waiting void. Gravel and stones passed me like molars into the rush of the throat. Only it was cold. So deathly cold.


    I fell deeper and deeper into the night with no relief, no salvation. All I could hear was that song, in hazy whispers in the foggy night.


    Angie...Angie....


    "ANGIE!" Matt was right next to and above me. He wrapped around me in a way that felt so wrong, but I couldn''t escape. He held me, meant to protect me, but I felt trapped instead.


    Dragged over to the bed, I shook with numb aches, like a fish pulled ashore onto ice, trying my last to struggle away. Matt explained that I''d just started screaming and wondered why I was so cold. He wrapped me in blankets and towels, but it didn''t help. Maybe I screamed. I didn''t know.


    I couldn''t be terrified forever. Rather, it came in waves. Like fighting to keep my head above water. I might push against the shoals and feel the towels and Matt''s concern wash away the fear, but then she would come again, to remind me. And I would sink back below the depths.


    I had hope. Sometimes, I would consider the faint allure of Matt like a forbidden flame to warm the raw pits of my stomach. He would sit close to me or urge me to take a shower. But she was always there. And he had no idea.


    She was the coldness in my soul, the burning ice.


    It was later. Or earlier. Time didn''t matter to me anymore. I measured my reality in how often she returned to me. At some point her fury lost its sharpness. Her anger turned to pity. My punishment was rote, routine, but still always fresh. I couldn''t let go either. I had done this, I had made this mistake and no matter how much I tried to deny it, the horror of knowing never left me.


    I''m somewhere else now. They probably think I''m broken, crazy. I hold the towels close to me, so I won''t slide out of this frail, withered shape. They''re the dam keeping me together, but they''re dripping wet. Please please. Help me.


    They can''t. No one can. Matt is so kind, but I''m past repair. Sorry, my friend, this isn''t me. I''ve been hollowed out. The only thing left in me is the chance I''ll see Angie again, the original one, and my words, my frail, faint words will be enough to truly express to her how sorry I am.


    It was one moment, one lapse, one instant, one mistake in the dark of a foggy night. But it was everything. A poison on my soul. So, I wear her face as long as I can, a living memory.


    The tune plays once more. The cycle begins anew. Angie...Angie...


    Ain''t it time we said goodbye? (1)


    (1) Songwriters: Keith Richards / Michael Jagger. "Angie" ? Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC