I was never the best at remembering dates. I can lie to myself all I want to boast my ego, but no matter how much you sugarcoat the truth in the end; you'll always find it sour. Maybe I'm a little slow. Maybe I just don't care. Probably a mix of both. But there's always one date I'll never forget: July 29th. And no, It's not just because that date just so happens to be the birthday of the beautiful and talented yours truly. July 29th was the day it first happened. It marks the beginning of a completely different future. It was then, very then, that I decided to peep out my window. But it was not an abstract canvas of golden yellows and fiery oranges I saw that summer evening, oh no. It was far off from a masterpiece. Painted outside was an eerie figure, taking a dark shape of a man. Once: imagination. Twice: Coincidence? But how about 30 times? 32 and counting to be exact. Then what do you call it? A stalker, shadow, serial killer!? But I know what you're really concerned about. Why haven't I called the police? Why haven't I told someone? Well in fact, I did. (Tell my guardian at least). All I get is a laugh and sneer.....pure mockery. "It's just your imagination," she says. "It's nothing," she says. But I will not rest until this "dark figure" is put to justice. (Or at least until I'm put in a mental institution).
Either would be fine at this point, because July 29th doesn't just mark the day of my shadow stalker. It marks a day of regret and agony. Pure distress. Fire and rage from the darkest pits of hell, tears and sadness from the darkest storm cloud—it was the day of my parents' death. Sunday, July 29th, 2001.
My face went absent as I swallowed hard, recalling the events of that fateful day.
My aunt had said that my family and I were driving back home from New York City and got into a fatal car accident on my birthday. My mom and dad immediately died due to a violent head trauma along with my twin sister. I was the only one to survive the accident at the time, being barely three years-old. Appalling to know, but I can't change it. Futures don't change....so I thought. But even though I never got to create a strong bond with any of them; I'm a sensitive crybaby, as always, on the subject.
But what I didn't know was that my aunt is a lying bitch.
We go back to Sunday, January 31th, the day of the 30 something sight of the dark figure.
***
How am I going to endure with this.....will I tell her?
I inhaled deeply trying to ignore the dreadful—sharp pain that was pounding excessively in my head. I felt like I was swept off the shore by an astronomic wave, crashing right on top of me, flinging me into the sand head first. "I swear I saw it.....I'm being watched," I said aloud, rubbing my eyes reevaluating that what I'd seen was really there.
I hurried to my window, hands pressed up against it, probing anxiously again for the figure. But, all my delicate eyes could distinguish outside the window on this frigid, winter evening were pine trees coated with a thin sheet of snow. My breath fogged up the window as I stood.
"No! I swear-I swear I saw it—it was there just a moment ago." My heart was beating out of my chest. I looked around my room, panting heavily and wide-eyed.
"That's it.....it's gone."
The head pounding and tears were too much. It sure isn't a hard task to drive me into a wall. I immediately sunk back onto my soft bed, unsettlingly pondering.
"Did I imagine it?"
"No, It was too.....real." I laid there trying to make sense of what I just saw, but it was no use.
Sigh.
I cleared my surroundings and stared into space. I looked ridiculous sitting there blankly—anticipating a shadowy figure was going to pop up at me and drift me into eternal darkness. I sealed my eyes—just for a moment. I imagined soaring through the sky, flying through a sea of never ending stars. The feeling of the blustery wind pressing up against my face. It felt magical. Nothing mattered, one by one my thoughts flowed out of my head. The stars—
"Em, Come down here. Spaghetti is ready!" Aunt Catherine blared.
Way to shatter the moment.
My eyes instantly perked wide as I pranced off the bed like a rabbit. The door busted open as I flew down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, I saw the table was set with two ceramic bowls. Catherine was standing by the stove. She gathered up the pasta and commenced to strain it. Steam rose to the top of the ceiling.
After Catherine finished straining, she poured the pasta into another bowl, combining sauce. The aroma of fresh pasta made my stomach knot up. It rumbled with emptiness as it painfully fought the urge of hunger. When Catherine finished, she hastily turned around to see me already seated in the kitchen chair.
"Well, aren't you hungry?" she said, beaming.
I quickly grabbed some spaghetti and scarfed it down. I sure was starving. I havn't consumed any food since early this morning, and that was only a granola bar.
"It's not my fault you starved me to death," I muttered.
Catherine's smile instantly faded. She settled down in the chair across from me. "Well, it's not my fault I had an urgent meeting," she bit her lip, "besides kiddo, why didn't you just come down here to get some food?"
"Another meeting?" My stomach turned to water, and this time it wasn't from hunger.
I placed my fork down and finished chewing. It was as if my burning hunger had just vanished in thin air. My eyes, the most striking ice blue you'll ever see, peered at Catherine. Ok, maybe that description was a little much. Point is my eyes are pretty cool. Just thought I'd add that in.
Catherine appeared surpassingly small as usual. She was only 5' for the age of 40. You wouldn't have known we were related, unless you really studied our faces. Our faces alike, but everything else different. Catherine has a softer shade of brown hair, the color of caramel; her eyes a lovely dark brown, like chocolate. And Catherine's smile, was a lot bigger and brighter than mine—than anyone's really. Her smile was the sweetest thing about her.
"Catherine, there is no food in this house....ever."
Catherine sighed, her eyes examining me thoroughly. Had two years since we moved here gone by that quickly?
I shot up and ambulated towards the stairs. It was nearing 8:30 and I had to be in bed by 10:30, at least that's what Catherine thought. Sunday had already arrived; the weekend flew by in a heartbeat.
I carried along just before I heard a faint voice from behind me, "wait." I turned around and get caught right into Catherine's glinting eyes. It was as if they put me under a trance, gluing me to a stare. Catherine paused for a moment.
"Are you ok, Em?"
I could feel my heart—plummeting. "Yes—I'm fine."
"Try not to stay up too late. I love you." She then flashed her heartwarming smile. Although, I know by now there's pain concealed behind her weary face.
I smirked and nodded, "love yah too."
I locked the door with a sigh, completely blocking out my thoughts, especially those of Catherine. But, I just couldn't help myself from wandering about my past....the times when I was carefree and happy as the day was long. I'm honestly sick and tired of hearing about Catherine's "meetings." She obviously has been going somewhere else. I would like to hear her next lame excuse about why they needed a teacher to frequently come to after school meetings. With a roll of my eyes, I threw my pillow down beside me.
"Oh, it's parent teacher night"—again. "Oh, it's a budget issue"—again. "Oh, it's a common education talk"—again.
Oh it's this, oh it's that—how long does she think she can keep this up?
Catherine must know something about the shadow person lurking outside our house. She's never appeared this upset. Maybe she owes him money? Catherine was acting quite aberrant, but I had to admit to the empathy I felt towards her. All I could remember is living with her in a cramped, meager, house since I was four. That is until I moved into my present home....small yes, but much better than the previous one. It would be just the two of us—reading and going outside during the summer, and Catherine going to work and I going to school during the winter. It was around age ten, where I could never forget Catherine's face—etched with pain and sorrow when it was time she told the news. About what really happened to my family.
The memory of my aunt's talk immediately struck back to me as I sat.
As always, I found myself slowly blinking back tears. Oh, what my life could have been like if my family was still here, instead of Catherine.
All I could dwell upon her saying of my twin sister was that she looked identical to me: long, dark brown hair, thin lipped, and fair skinned. Of what she said, I believed she also told me her name was Aislin or something. To think I lost a twin sister is tough. Someone to play with; gossip to, hang out with—all I have now is myself to keep me entertained.
My uncle had CLL and passed away the following year he married my aunt, Catherine. She never got the chance to have a child, which has always dampened my spirits. Catherine is such an optimistic, regaling, and loving person. It's a disgrace this has transpired but, I am like a daughter to her.
The thought of this sent an unpleasant wave of shivers down my spine.
Suddenly, I heard a "ding" coming from my phone. I grabbed it, revealing a message from my best friend since 4th grade, Sarah. It read: "Hey Em". I slid the message bar to open the texting app, and exchanged a mini conversation:
"Hey!"
"What's up? ;)"
"Ooh, guess what!?"
"What?"
"Did you hear there is going to be a new kid at our schooool ??"
"Really?"
"YEESS!"
"And I heard... It's a boy Em! ;)"
"Cool."
"Oh come on Em! What if he's cute?"
"Very typical of you. I doubt it. Besides, I'm done with boys for a while."
" Hey It's almost 9 I better go, sorry. Science homework."
"What! :c Ok Em I'll see u tomorrow! And hopefully the new kid ;)"
"Bye Sarah."
"Bye Emilia <33"
Ugh—I despise the sound of my name. Sarah was always boy crazy, and now she's going to be all over this "new kid" at school. Powering off my cellphone, I lugged my tired self to the dresser. I put pajamas on, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and then again faced the dresser.
I stared at my drained reflection in the mirror.
Emilia.
That name just doesn't fit me.
My eyes lingered upon this so-called Emilia girl who was staring back at me. Giving up on her I dove under the covers. It was now 9:30; I might as well get more sleep (Even though I rarely go to bed this early). I set my alarm for 5:25 am.
Thoughts of how ecstatic Sarah was going to be at school tomorrow crossed my mind. I can just picture her—"Oh my god Em he's so cute"—and I'd just be standing there, glaring at her like she was insane. Oh, she is insane alright. I love Sarah like I love me my spaghetti, but Sarah's social level with boys is crazy. I mean, being the 17 year-old I am, you would expect me to really be into boys. (Let me tell you, I am) But, I'm not as outgoing and lucky with them like Sarah. I'm more....shy. I expect them to come to me. Hate to say it, but she's kind of like my whore friend. Of course not literally....
Get what I mean? Was that rude to say?
No? Alright.
I'm the kind of girl who was usually unlucky with developing feelings for....douchebags. (Oh come on, don't act like you can't relate). My friend Sarah though, she's the kind of girl who's had 20 boyfriends by now, since like the fifth grade. But of course, I love her regardless.
I turned off my lamp and shut my eyes.
"Good night."
Not like I had anyone to say goodnight to...
Unless the dark figure just so happens to be passing by...
I kid, I kid. At least I hope so.
I slowly drifted to sleep.
♦♦♦
The room was dark. I tried to move, but I couldn't. Ropes were secured so firmly around my wrists. It felt like my circulation would cut off any minute. A door suddenly opened, a soft creek sound escaping. I began to sob —in misery. Each tear felt cold and miry as it pressed against my cheeks.
The dark, shadowy, undefined figure deliberately walked towards me. I sniffed and closed my eyes as every step clobbered closer. I could feel his presence close by. Terror dispersed throughout my entire body. My heart started to rapidly pound out of my chest. When he reached to me—turned my head to the left—but the dark figure took his finger and forced my face forward.
I wouldn't meet his eyes.
He lifted my head up, his nails digging into my skin.
"Finally, home". His voice was deep and cool—mysterious. He then, abruptly, released my head. I forced a stern look on my face. I would no longer show anymore fear.
This wasn't for long.
The dark figure revealed something shiny and sliced me across my torso. I bled hard.
An intense piercing pain shot from my stomach. I couldn't breathe, my vision blurring.....White images flashed as the figure stared at me with cold-blooded eyes. Not a flinch of guilt passed those cold silver eyes, I almost could see the twisted pleasure radiating off his skin. The pain made me gasp and stagger for breaths I could not catch. As I stumbled backwards, the knife was dragged down my stomach and out of my body. I felt as if a million famishing insects were feasting eagerly at my stomach, until what was left was entirely hollow. A pulsating sting flew across my body in waves of intense agony. Time seemed to freeze as I gasped for my last words that never came...
I dared to scream, but nothing came out. I took one more deep breath. It was too late.
My life was over.
I lied there unconscious in a pool of blood. He put on a sickening grin so cruel, as if he found pleasure in slashing me, leading himself to the exit. He did not bother to look back.
His adumbral face peeked through the door, "finally, dead". He laughed insanely as he slammed the door shut.
A/N
Hey readers! Thanks so much for reading this! I've had this story in my head for years and I finally got the chance to write it down. I put a lot of effort and editing into this. SO PLEASE, comment and vote for more. And of course follow me for updates and more!!!! It just gets better from here!
-Vic ;)