The Unseen

Chapter 2

That night, flashes of what happened kept me awake. When I dreamed, it was of fear, fire, and chaos. The accident was more severe than I assumed, making all the memories of the past rush back to me with a vengeance.

What was worse were these flashes of the guy's eyes just before the crash happened. There was something in them different from any expression I had ever seen, more complex. It made me wish I hadn't closed my eyes so quickly.

Then there was the strange feeling of being held, being weightless, that couldn't be attributed to being thrown out of the bus by the force of the impact. After all, if I had been thrown out, I would have had some injuries when I, in fact, had none. Confused as I was, I only recalled that upon reaching home.

The most terrifying thing was that I was questioning the stability of my mind, debating whether I had actually sustained some brain injuries or something making me see things that weren't there after the accident. There couldn't be vanishing guys or ghosts.

Guys disappeared when they wanted to leave their significant others, and ghosts weren't real, were they?

My mind was so fragile and unhinged that even the faintest sound, the smallest movement, made me jump and look frantically around, looking for the supernatural in the natural. Instead of going to work as I should have done, I called in sick. Reluctantly I decided to let the professionals deal with my issues.

I settled on visiting my psychiatrist, someone I hadn't seen in a long time and whose help I desperately needed at that moment. That was if I didn't want my recent experience to bring up my old demons that had been in a deep slumber for a few years. It was the last thing I needed.

Valerie was as professional as always when I entered her office, her clothes as neat as her posture was straight. I always found something comforting in that. It felt like a person like that had all the answers.

"Angela, what brings you here today? It's been a while," Valerie asked kindly, forgoing any of her usual methods of coaxing her patients, knowing well that just chatting worked the best with me.

"I am afraid of..." I started to say, taking a deep breath, unsure how to end the sentence. "I am afraid of slipping back."

"Angela, you know very well grief is never truly gone, but you can't allow yourself to go back to that dark place you were in at the time," Valerie said, as patient as ever. "Tell me, why you think that's happening. You've been doing so well for years."

"I am not sure. Yesterday, there was a bus accident, and I feel like I... lost...myself," I said hesitantly, unsure how to explain the strange, impossible memories I had of the event.

"What do you mean?" Valerie prodded, seeing that there was more I wanted to say that I needed to say.

"What happened is either impossible, or I am losing my grasp on reality," I said, gathering my strength. "I was there, and then I was not. I was talking to him. Then I was not."

"Angela, you need to calm down. Having an accident is a traumatic experience. It's not unusual for your memory to be vague," Valerie said as gently as the summer breeze. "Is it making you remember the tragedy, reliving it?"

"Not yet, but I can feel it lurking at the edges of my mind. I fear that if I don't sort out what happened yesterday, what was real and what was not, I might go back there, and that's the last thing I want to do," I said, breathing heavily.

Valerie placed her hand gently on my clutched fist, her touch reassuring, chasing away my worries for the time being.

"The best way to deal with it is to face it," Valerie said. "I've known you for years, and although I wouldn't recommend the same thing to all my patients, I think you are the type of person who needs to face her problems head-on. If you have doubts about what happened yesterday, retrace your steps, and ask the people you interacted with. Even revisit the accident site."

Having been through quite a few psychiatrists before her, I appreciated how different she was from them and how she didn't give me a generic answer that would serve me no good. She tailored her advice based on everything she knew about me, my issues, and how I dealt with the world. It made me instantly feel a little better.

"You are right, I'll do that," I said calmer, back to my usual self.

Suddenly I remembered that it would entail talking to the weird guy again, and my cheeks started burning red in embarrassment. If the previous day didn't really happen the way I remembered it, he would think I was a lunatic when he saw me, but if it did, I would think he might be the crazy one. Either way it wouldn't take a good turn.

"Are you okay?" Valerie asked, her hawk eyes noticing my sudden mood shift.

"Fine, I just have to hurry if I want to catch the same bus as yesterday," I said, rushing out of her office, unprepared to embarrass myself even more.

My pathetic attempt at a love life should stay a secret even from my psychiatrist for the time being. At least until I figured out if I was brave or crazy.

The bus company had already replaced yesterday's bus with a new one, but it was emptier than ever. It made me realize that many of the commuters I had come to know had been injured or dead. My eyes filled with tears, not allowing me to see clearly.

Still, I felt him hovering at the edge of my vision. He was still there. I would bet that he was even in the same spot as before.

One glance at his reflection told me that was precisely the case. What was more interesting was that he didn't seem distressed or bothered in any way while I sat holding on to the seat so tightly that my hands were turning white.

It made me realize that it might not have been a good idea to do this so quickly after the accident. That I might have just needed more time to process everything. Everything seemed surreal. Like a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from.

"Are you okay?" A whisper reached my ears.

The impossible couldn't have happened, could it?

When I turned around to confirm if it was really him talking, I noticed there was no one else there, so although he didn't seem to have moved in any way, he had to have been the one talking.

"I am fine, just nervous because of yesterday's accident," I said, trying hard to judge his reaction upon hearing my words.

I saw no change in his demeanor, but I noticed from the corner of my eye a few people from the front turned and looked at me strangely. It was the weirdest feeling ever.

"Do you want to get off the bus?" he asked, sounding worried.

I wasn't sure if he was actually worried about me or if it was my wishful thinking, but I did want to keep talking to him. There was something he was thinking about. Maybe considering if he should tell me or not.

"Yes," I said, feeling the stares from the front seats intensify. "How about I buy you a cup of coffee, and you tell me what happened yesterday?"

His eyebrow twitched quizzically, the only reaction I had seen in him since I first started noticing him a year ago when I changed my job on this very bus. It had to mean something, right? Also, we were going to a public place where I could stay safe if he turned out to be crazier than me.

"Alright," he said hesitantly. "Let me just get someone to cover my shift."

The way he used the familiar language felt forced, but I didn't comment on it. I wanted my answers. So, I needed to think of the best way of getting them. Just because the guy was cute, it didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. In which way was yet to be determined.

On the other hand, if I was right if he was something...more... then he might have been the one who saved my life.

Word count: 2723