Untitled Chapter 4 (Late Night Visitor)

    I used to like my reflection--pale blonde hair, ending a few inches below my collar bone, pale unblemished skin, and bright blue eyes--not the normal pale, stormy color you see on most people. I have always been thin, but not too strong and am of average height--five four and a half. The overall appearance of the girl next door.
    I still looked the same, but I couldn’t care less today. I dread going to school. I dread seeing Michael, Erin, and Gabby, because there’s something strange about them. They can see the shadows and I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s not a good thing.
    When I get to school, it’s not a surprise that Michael is there in the courtyard where my morning hangout is. Gabby and Erin are, too and I try my best to ignore them throughout the morning and then throughout the day. They don’t try to talk to me in class, but I can feel Michael’s eyes on me all day--in class, at recess, at lunch.
    I don’t feel like it’s a coincidence that he’s now hanging out where I do. I also don’t feel like it’s a coincidence that he just happened to park next to me with his big, intimidating, silver, fast-looking motorcycle either.
    “Lia.” He says as I open my door. “If you could listen for just a moment--”
    “What do you want from me?” I exclaim, turning to glare at him.
    “What do I want from you?” He asks with that same confused expression. “I don’t want anything from. I’m here to protect you.”
    I stare at him incredulously. “Seriously, you need to be put into a mental hospital.” I turn and try to open my door, but he pushes it back shut. “Okay, look.” I say, turning to him. “I, personally, don’t feel very safe at the moment. And following me around school, doesn’t really scream out ‘protection,’ It’s screams out ‘stalker.’”
    “They’re coming, Lia.” Michael says, gravely. He’s looking me directly in the eyes again. “I can’t protect you--”
    “Protect me from what?”
    “From him.” Michael says as if “him” is as name, a if I know exactly who he’s talking about. “I know you sense them. You can see them, always just out of reach. You can feel them watching you every moment that you’re alone. This is just the beginning, Lia. Things will only get worse.”
    “We goin' or what?” My brother appears. He’s never been the overprotective type as far as I know, so there’s no hope of him chasing off Michael. When he sees him he merely nods in acknowledgement. “Hey. I’m Josh. What‘s your name?”
    “Michael.” He replies with no expression in his tone or on his face.
    Seemingly satisfied, Josh turns to me. “Ready?”
    I stare at Michael for a moment before turning away. “Yeah.”
    When we get home, my brother immediately heads up to his room. Josh quit drugs a couple months ago, but I can see that he still blames me for ruining everything--Mom and Dad’s marriage and his life. He won’t say it out loud, but the way we never talk anymore, the way he never likes to hang around me, well, it makes it obvious.
    Even though I have the rest of the house to myself--because Dad isn’t home, like he usually isn’t--I head up to my room, change into a pair of track shorts, tennis shoes, and pull my bright blue YMCA t-shirt over my head, even though i have half a mind to call Tina and tell her I'm not feeling well today.
    School’s been taking it’s toll on me for the past couple years. Every day I get home and when I get home I have to fight with myself to stay awake long enough to get changed and then go to the park to help watch twenty-five rscals. It gets harder and harder because sleeping is easy, peaceful. It’s comfortable and is practically my sanctuary. But for whatever reason, I grab my purse and head down to the park.

***

    When I get home at seven, I head straight up stairs and flop down on my bed. The only almost okay part about going to the recreational center was that Michael hadn't been there.

    I take comfort in that as my eyes slip shut.
    It feels lie only seconds later when a crack! makes me jerk awake. Staring up at ceiling, I hold still, all my senses on high alert.
    It’s dark outside and when I turn my head slowly to the right, my alarm clock states that it’s just after two a.m. which means Josh is already sleeping and Dad is probably crashed.
    It’s been months since I’d imagined the sound of footsteps creeping down the hall toward my bedroom.
    Truth be told, I never feel completely alone. Right after Mom’s body had been found two weeks after I’d asked if we could talk to the police, the shadows had shown up.
    Looking up slowly, I see the shadow swirling across my ceiling. They’re not like normal shadows. They’re darker and more sinister, almost like black ink.
    I feel my heart thrumming in my chest and I begin to sweat. Knots of panic tighten in my chest and stomach.
    Then a shadowy form--a regular shadow--stretches across my floor and I hear something like giant wings beating.
    The darker shadow on my roof lets out a scream and disappears through the crack between my door and the doorframe.
    I wait a second before cautiously getting out of bed. When I look out my window, there’s nothing down below in the yard and the only thing is the sky--weirdly enough--is a bird.