Autophobia

Chapter 4: Tainted Visions

Charlie drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point the sun was shining through the double-paned window, but when she opened her eyes next it was pitch black outside. The 19-year-old carefully kicked her way out of the blankets that covered her and stood up. Her head protested with pain, and the black spots she'd become all too familiar with, danced in her line of sight. She winced and sat back down on the bed. God dammit. She was already tired of being helpless and waited on: she'd sent both John and her father home despite their protests.

When she finally made it to the bathroom, she got a good look at herself in the mirror. Good God. Her eyes were red and puffy, her chestnut brown hair was tangled, and band aids covered her face. Some of them covered stitches; she'd been told that flying glass had sliced her face in several places. She was tempted to step into the shower, but thinking about the effort that would entail made her queasy. She elected to wash her face and comb her hair with wet fingers instead. As she tugged at a particularly knotted tangle, the door to her room opened.

She waited for the cooing voice of a nurse that never came. Instead, as she stood there mid-hair pull, there was a low rumble. The reflection of flickering hallway lights danced a few feet away from her, by the bed. Nobody lingered in the doorway. Charlie blinked once, twice. There had to be a window open somewhere, sending gusty winds to shake the hanging hall lights. But the door was so heavy...

The rumble filled her ears again. This time it was menacingly low, like thunder. She turned off the water and the hallway lights snapped off. They didn't fade; they just shut off, as though someone had snipped their wires with scissors. The rumble came again, this time rhythmically. It almost sounded like a laugh. The lights came back to life for a split second and she saw it- a mass of darkness that took the shape of a bear. An animatronic bear with rows of sharp teeth and red eyes.

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This can't be real. It's not real. Not real. Not real. Michael repeated to himself. The walls were closing in on him as he felt for the flashlight on the bedside table behind him. All it took was one click of the flashlight- why couldn't he reach it? The monster laughed again, confirming its presence directly in front of him. Michael could see its glistening teeth and a hint of rough gold skin even in the darkness that enveloped them. He got a hold of the flashlight and flicked it on, trying not to recoil at the creature's appearance alone. One click, one step back. The creature finally disappeared into its dark abode, not to be seen again until his next "episode".

That was what Doctor Ray called them. "Episodes". Michael collapsed onto his bed, his lungs refusing to take air in normally. When his bearings returned to him at last, he picked up the worn journal on his bedside table. He flipped to the page featuring the creature exactly as he saw it- bared teeth, rotting golden skin, a purple top hat and matching bow tie. IT'S ME. He'd surrounded the creature with that phrase over and over again. Those words meant nothing to so many, but everything to Michael. He touched up one of the creature's teeth and then glanced at the discharge papers sitting on the desk under the window. Tomorrow is another day.

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Charlie picked at her breakfast. She was finally hungry; but not hungry enough for a whole omelette. She barely raised her head when John walked in, his backpack hanging off of his right shoulder.

"Hey."

"Hey." She was already choked up as he sat down next to her. The rain falling on the double-paned window stood in for talk.