The Hirt

Chapter One

            “No! Get away!” Heather screeched at Dr. Thompson.  Only, he didn’t look like the nice psychologist Dr. Thompson.  His face had become angular.  His bright blue eyes were darkening, until they looked like bottomless pits.  The clean, kind sweater vest and trousers suddenly morphed into black leather and his loafers became black boots that had what looked like blood splatters on them.  The terrifying, ominous version of Dr. Thompson advanced slowly towards Heather and spoke calming things, but in a voice so hideous that she couldn’t pay attention to the words.  The voice alone was enough to make her want to hide under the couch.

            Heather backed up from the morphed Dr. Thompson and screamed at him.  She backed into the couch that she had previously sat on and fell onto it.  As Dr. Thompson drew near, Heather buried her head into her arms, whimpered, and waited for the demonic Dr. Thompson to attack her.  But when she cautiously glanced up over her arm to see what he was waiting for, she realized Dr. Thompson had changed back into the nice psychologist who was trying to calm her down.  She lifted her head completely, and wiped her tears.

            “Heather, what just happened? Are you alright?”  The normal Dr. Thompson asked, with concern in his blue eyes.

            “You just . . . not again . . . not you . . . I have to go,” Heather said, and abruptly jumped up, her foot catching on the couch, and she tripped.

            “Heather? Heather!” Dr. Thompson cried.  But it was too late.  Heather had already scrambled to her feet and sprinted out the door.

            Heather kept running, through the winding hallways of the building, trying to remember how she came in.  The twisting corridors made her feel claustrophobic, and after that weird encounter, she just had to get out.  She mumbled to herself, and frantically searched for the exit, when she slammed into someone.  Heather muttered an apology, and tried to keep going, but the person stopped her by grabbing her arm.

            “Wait a second.  Heather? Heather Marks? Is that you?”  The voice sounded familiar and spoke with a British accent. For the first time, Heather looked up at the boy’s face.  She had an annoying, nagging feeling that she knew this boy, but didn’t know from where.  The boy looked like he was around Heather’s age, and had blonde curly hair that was swept to the side.  Light freckles dotted his cheeks and nose, and he had gorgeous sea-green eyes that felt as if he could see your soul every time you looked into them.  Heather was so captivated by his beautiful eyes that she couldn’t look anywhere else.  Suddenly, she remembered he had asked a question, and responded, “Oh!  Um . . . yeah . . . Do . . . Do I know you?”  The boy’s face suddenly broke into the biggest smile Heather had ever seen.  He had perfect white straight teeth and dimples in each cheek. 

            “Heather Marks? Is it really you?” He asked, excitement growing in his voice.

            “Yeah, but who are you again?” Heather responded, growing a little uncomfortable considering the stranger was still gripping her arm.  His behavior was starting to worry Heather, despite how extremely attractive he was.

            “ ‘Bump into fate, never make the mistake.’ It’s her!  It’s really her!  Oh, Heather, I’ve been looking for you for such a long time! And I’ve finally found her! The last one!”  The creepy cute guy muttered, mostly to himself, and ignored Heather’s question.  “Come on, you have to come with me.”

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there, buddy.  I’m not going anywhere with you.  I have pepper spray, and I’m not afraid to use it!” Heather exclaimed, her panic rising.  At this point, she had completely forgotten about her strange encounter with freaky Dr. Thompson.  For some reason, she did have this urge to follow him, though, and to trust him.  It’s probably just his accent that’s making me want to go with him.  Accents can make people do irrational things,  thought Heather, trying to reason with herself.