The Soul

BEFORE: Chapter Two

     A loud crash dragged Cara from the holds of a colorful dream, thrusting her into reality. She was sprawled in her bed, her blanket thrown onto the ground, undoubtedly from her haphazard movements. Her hand came up to shove her hair away from her face, the long brown strands tangled painfully. She could not remember what had woken her, and she could no longer remember her dream as she looked around her apartment bedroom, trying to steady her quickened breathing. The walls were all bare, for she had not yet put up any of the pictures or posters she had brought over from her room at her sister's apartment. In fact, it hardly looked like anybody lived here; there was no color, no distinct items that would point to her existence, no –

     the rattling of the open window cut across her observations.

     She stared at the window confusedly, at the night sky beyond the open screen. She did not remember having opened the window before falling asleep. In fact, she was almost sure she had double checked to make sure it was locked before heading to bed.

     Cara scooted off the edge of her bed, her bare foot lightly coming into contact with hardwood flooring, goosebumps raising on her skin from the unwelcome cold.

     Moonlight colored her skin a pale white the closer she got to the open window, a slight breeze ruffling her hair further. It was a quiet night, no one out on the streets but the occasional car heading home from a late day at work. Her hands on the windowsill, Cara closed her eyes and leaned her head slightly to the side, soothed by the feel of the breeze on her face. It was so quiet, she could hear the sounds of the nighttime, the birds and critters all sleeping, stowed away in their respective homes.

     At the sound of another crash, Cara jumped away from the window, her hand flying up to her chest, where she could feel the erratic beating of her heart underneath her thin white tee-shirt. There was that sound again that had first awoken her from her deep sleep, sounding as if it came from inside her apartment. She tiptoed to her closed bedroom door, wincing at each creak of the floor. While she lived in a pretty quiet neighborhood of mostly families with grade-school children, it was not unusual to hear of an occasional break-in or robbery. She had watched a news channel boasting that exact story just a week ago.

     There was no way she was gonna get robbed without a fight. Determined, Cara's eyes roamed over her dark room once again, this time scanning for anything she could use as a makeshift weapon. She had yet to bring over most of her personal belongings from her sister's place. Her move had been an abrupt one and she hadn't had the time to pick up her bigger stuff after – well, after everything that had happened.

     Yes Reader, l know that you are relying on me to tell you the truth, but I can only tell certain truths, the rest are up to the sequence of the story. Be patient, please.

     Her eyes stopped in the corner of her room, where she had her lacrosse stick from High School situated against the wall. With her jaw set, she tiptoed to the lacrosse stick, right by her closed bedroom door. Snatching it up, her fingers easily falling into position around the handle as if this was just any other lacrosse game, she placed her back against the wall, stick raised, poised to hit.

     It had only been a couple seconds since the last crash, but now the apartment was deadly quiet. There was that silence again, the one in which Evil worked. It seemed to Cara that bad things were almost always preceded by deep silences. Like in High School, when her and her friends would sneak into the same bathroom stall, skipping class to talk about who hated who and who was cheating on who, they would hear the keys of the patrolling teacher on hall duty and her footsteps would get closer to the bathroom. They would hold their fingers up to their mouths in warning, mouthing hushes. In the same instant, the teacher's steps would slow down until they came to a stop, and her keys would cease their aimless swinging. There would be a perfect second of silence on both ends just before the teacher would loudly bang on their stall door, demanding for them to open up or there would be hell to pay. They would let out breathless shrieks and open the door in embarrassed dismay. While the prospect of the coming detention was disappointing, there was an excitement that came with the adrenaline of getting caught, and they knew they would do it again.