Despite Luc's behaviour, I felt no joy in leaving that shop. In fact, I felt nothing at all—I was numb, empty, defeated. Even the mundane pang of hunger was gone. Food, bulbs... everything seemed secondary in this state.
Everything lost its urgency; it could all just wait.
All the excitement from my recent accomplishments had been stolen away. The new joy I had created for myself was suddenly sapped from me and discarded like it was trivial, like it had never meant anything in the first place.
I could've screamed.
Instead I just silently crept back to my side of the building and through my own door. I flicked the lights on; the last remaining bulb feebly lit the room. Even my new apartment, which only minutes ago seem lovely and welcoming, now felt cold and hostile, just like him.
My gorgeous neighbour had turned out to be a jerk.
And on top of that, he was apparently a psychic jerk, who had predicted I wasn't going to find anyone who'd love me any time soon. And though I realized that it seemed very unlikely that he could actually see the future, he wasn't redeemed by the fact that his premonition was a lie. That lie meant he was cruel on top of being a fraud. He was a fraud who was unwilling to help cheer up a poor, broken-hearted girl who just wanted a little superficial reassurance. Would it really have been so hard for him to just make something up about how everything would work out in the end? No, instead he had to crush me, scoff at my pathetic worries, tell me that I was unfit to be loved. Or maybe that was just it: maybe he was just playing with my head because he saw me as pathetic. I was pathetic... especially for going to him to boost my self-confidence.
I slid into bed, still wearing my moving clothes, and curled up beneath the covers. Before I could stop myself, I began sobbing deeply into my pillows. I thought I had moved on, rid myself of all the pain left in the wake of my failed relationship, but it was apparently just hiding, pushed deep down. It came rushing to the surface now. I was alone again, so horribly alone. I wasn't sure how long I cried, but I must've cried myself to sleep.
When I awoke, it was still dark, and my face was still pressed into the damp of my tear-soaked pillow. I couldn't place what had woken me so suddenly. I didn't remember having a terrible dream or hearing a loud noise or speaking aloud like last time. I was just awake; really awake. Maybe my body clock had suddenly gone awry and decided that now was the ideal time to wake up, the effect of my ill-timed coma-nap.
I rolled over, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. What time was it? I grappled in the dark, reaching out to find my phone on my bedside table, where I usually left it. My hands found the edge of my nightstand, and I ran my hand over the top, seeking the sleek form of my smartphone.
Just as my fingers found it, I felt a breeze, a warm rush on the underside of my wrist. A small gasp escaped my lips and, still clutching my phone, I retracted my hand. I held it close to my chest, cradling it, protecting it.
What was that?
My imagination was probably on the fritz because I was feeling out of sorts and awake in the middle of the night... It had to have been a heat vent, right? But it had distinctly felt like breath on my wrist. And it had come from below my hand, almost from under my bed, while the vents in my basement suite were all on the ceiling...
My hand shook violently as I turned my phone on, seeking some kind of comfort from the light, even if it was just the dim blue from the screen. I felt like a child again, turning on my nightlight after a nightmare. The phone cast a ghostly glow around my room, barely improving the darkness. I held it up and scanned my room, using it as a weak flashlight.
Something flashed by, darting past in the shadows. Every muscle in my body tensed. I dropped my cell into the folds of my blanket, plunging the room back into darkness. Fighting against my fear, I willed myself to move, to think rationally. I lunged for my bedside table, to turn on the lamp and scare away the monsters in the shadows. I gripped the neck of the lamp with both hands, strangling it as I fumbled for the switch. Lost in panic, I felt like the darkness was moving closer, swallowing me.
I found the nub on the lamp's neck and pushed it in. It sprang to life, flooding the room with comforting light.
There was nothing there. My bedroom door was still closed, as was my closet. I toyed with the idea of peering under my bed but then remembered that there was no way in hell anything could fit under there—every inch of that space had been stuffed with boxes and suitcases. If there were a monster under there, it would have to be a very, very small one.
Uncovering my phone again, I checked the time; it was just after three in the morning. I sighed deeply. I needed to get back to sleep for work tomorrow, otherwise I would be completely useless and Polly, my boss, would not be happy.
I breathed deeply, deliberately, to calm myself. Breathe in, breathe out. Concentrate on that, I told myself, not the products of your overactive imagination. There's no such thing as monsters! In the warm light, my fears seemed foolish.
But I still slept with the light on.
🔮
"Sorry I'm late!" I choked out as I burst into the office. I was only eleven minutes late, but this was the second time this week and Polly did not tolerate tardiness. I struggled for breath after running up six flights of stairs, but I hoped my obvious rush would help persuade Polly to forgive me... or, at the very least, not fire me.
But she wasn't here; the little office was empty aside from Harriet, my mousy fellow intern, who was already seated at her desk and working diligently. She looked up from her computer, pushing aside her limp, dirty-blonde hair, and gave me a withering glare.
"Again, Rachel?" she sneered—which made her look positively rat‑like—as if my being late were a personal offense to her.
It was difficult to suppress my urge to snap at her as I slumped off to my little desk tucked into the corner of our shared office.
When she realized I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me, she went back to slurping her coffee loudly. I tensed with irritation, but I managed to stay silent. If I was lucky, I would have a moment to prepare myself before Polly came back; maybe she would be none-the-wiser... unless Harriet decided to tattle on me. Which was totally something she would do.
"What was it this time?" Harriet continued after a moment, clearly not satisfied with her first jibe.
"I misplaced my keys," I replied huskily, still very much out of breath, as I put my things away. Even to my ears it sounded like a lie, though it was absolutely the truth.
"Didn't you 'misplace' your keys on Monday?" came a voice from behind me.
I froze in the middle of taking off my jacket and spun around. Polly was leaning against the doorframe, impeccably dressed as always, with her usually wild red hair tamed into a small bun. She held a coffee and an armful of thick folders, her grey eyes flashing at me. I swallowed, trying to force down the lump of fear that had suddenly risen in my throat. She was not one to cross.
"Uh, yeah, but... this has just been a really weird past couple of weeks," I mumbled, shrinking under her dark gaze. I prayed our history together would spare me. I had been interning here ever since I'd started college two years ago. I thought we had gotten to know each other pretty well, even though Polly was my superior. She was a notorious hard-ass, but she also had her moments of kindness. I had to hope that this would be one of those moments.
Polly didn't respond immediately. She inspected me, narrowing her eyes... before relaxing her stiff shoulders and sighing. Her eyes softened, and she even smiled a little. "Yeah, yeah—ex-boyfriend, moving, weirdoes," she said with a wave of her hand. "I know that you're not usually like this. Just try not to be late anymore. Maybe invest in a key-hook or something."
I smiled weakly as Polly breezed past me on her way to her much larger desk. I didn't know how to tell her that I did have a key hook, but that wasn't the problem...
There was something strange going on in my apartment.
For a while, I thought I had been simply misplacing my keys. On Monday, I had found them underneath my bed but I figured they had fallen from my pocket. I mean, sure, I had been pretty confident that I had placed them on their hook the night before, but I could've been wrong. Sometimes I could be scatter-brained.
So last night, not wanting to risk being late again, I had been very careful to be sure that I placed the keys on their proper hook before bed. This morning, however, they were gone. I'd stared blankly at the empty hook for a few minutes, racking my brain, trying my best to remember if I had dreamed putting the keys there. But I was positive I had... In fact, I was willing to swear in court that I had seen them hanging there as I had been getting ready.
It didn't matter though—I was going to be late, I couldn't waste time pondering the mystery. I had to find them, and I nearly tore my apartment apart looking for the damn things. I looked everywhere... in every pocket, in every drawer, in every corner.
And do you know where I had found them?
In between a stack of plates in my cupboard.
"Rachel, are you going to stand there all day?" Polly asked as she sat in her plush, leather chair.
"Sorry!" I flung myself down into my own squeaky wheelie chair. I turned on my computer and set to work, not only to prove to Polly that I wasn't useless and deserved my internship, but also to take my mind off everything. I didn't want to think about how my keys were mysteriously being moved...
Something about it sent chills up my spine.
🔮
The end of work rolled around eventually, and though it had been a long day, I wasn't eager to return home.
Harriet, however, wasted no time packing up. As she was just about to leave, she paused and turned back to me. "Good luck with your keys, Rach," she cooed, her voice dripping with fake concern. She smiled her slimy smile, and I wished I could reach out and wipe it off her face with a swift slap. I settled for sticking my tongue out at the back of her head as she walked through the door.
I debated staying late—it'd make me look better and would delay having to return to my apartment—but I noticed Polly hovering over me. She was scrutinizing me again.
"Hey, Polly..." I said awkwardly, hoping she hadn't changed her mind and had just been waiting until the end of the day to fire me.
She didn't say anything for a while, just looked at me. Then, finally, she spoke. "How have you been doing?"
I sighed with relief and then immediately cringed. Answering her meant I couldn't avoid what had been happening in my life. "Honestly? I feel like I'm going crazy."
"You're not," Polly said, smiling down at me. "You've been bonkers for years. This isn't a new development."
I didn't know how I managed it, but I smiled back. I couldn't help it. Even though she was five years older than me, and my boss, sometimes Polly felt like a real friend. In fact, she was probably the closest thing I had to a friend these days. "Thanks so much for the encouragement." I rolled my eyes.
"Glad to be of service," she said in that sickly sweet voice we had to use with clients on the phone, before reverting to her usual tone. "Really though, I'm kidding. What's the matter? You haven't been looking so... great these days. I mean, I know about Rick and that psychic dick, but is there anything else?"
I cringed again. I had made the mistake of telling her and Harriet about my asshole neighbour and his weird profession after too many mojitos at last Friday's happy hour. Harriet had, of course, laughed, but Polly had been surprisingly supportive.
"It's..." I started but then paused, not sure how to put it into words. I really couldn't describe it, unless I wanted Polly to actually think I had gone nuts. I wasn't about to alienate my one ally in this world at the moment.
The truth was my keys weren't the only things that had been going missing. Pens, earrings, pieces of paper with notes on them... they had all started disappearing from my apartment. And sometimes, if was quiet, I swore I could hear footsteps and voices. Not from above me or from next door... I heard it from my living room, as I was lying in bed trying to read.
And once... once...
Once I swore I heard a growl.
When I just couldn't force myself to answer, Polly reached across my desk and patted my arm. I smiled back at her, in earnest this time. I really wished I could have opened up to her at that moment, but at the same time, I knew that would mean possibly ruining a great almost-friendship. So I kept my mouth shut.
"Look, I know things have been rough lately, but you don't need to make it worse by stressing yourself out over these reports," Polly said. "Why don't you take a sick day tomorrow? I'll cover for you."
I blinked at her. "Really?"
"Really." Polly nodded. "But you have to actually make an effort to rest. Watch something crappy on Netflix, eat a burger, put weird mud stuff on your face... whatever. Just take a day to relax and recharge."
"W-wow!" I struggled to find the words to express my gratitude. I settled for simple. "Thank you. Really."
"Don't mention it," Polly said. "You're more useful to me when you're not at the end of your rope. But don't forget, we have that presentation on Friday in the afternoon. Is that done? If it needs more work, I can make Harriet finish it."
As much as I would've loved to give Harriet more work, I wanted to finish it myself, to show that I was worth Polly's good faith. "It's nearly done, actually, just need to tweak a few more things. I could probably finish it this evening."
"That'd be great. But only work on it this evening. Tomorrow is for rest," Polly said, giving me her best boss-stare. Then suddenly, the light in her eyes seemed to falter, and her hand flinched out and gripped my shoulder. "But if you do need help, real help, please tell me."
A different kind of ache took hold of my chest, a feeling of deep gratitude. My throat tightened as I fought back the urge to cry. I was so touched by the offer.
Until she added, "It's best to nip these things in the bud."
Huh? My swell of feeling quickly deflated. What did she mean? Some part of me felt that I ought to be offended, though I was too confused to know exactly why.
I was too thrown to come up with a response, but apparently, she didn't need one. As quickly as it had changed, her expression reverted. In a second, a big, bright smile had returned to her face, and she released me. It was like nothing had happened, and if it weren't for the ache in my shoulder from where she held me, I wouldn't have believed it was real.
Maybe she's trying to mentor you or something, a calm voice inside reassured me as I watched her go back to her desk. It's nothing. You're being paranoid.
I finally nodded, to show that I'd obey her order, and she unplugged a USB key from her huge desktop computer and tossed it at me. I caught it and slipped it into my pocket, with my keys. I would have to be extra careful with that.
"See you on Friday!" I said as I threw my coat on. I grabbed my bag and turned to go.
"Enjoy tomorrow!" Polly called after me as I slipped out the office door, waving at her through its glass walls.
Polly was a blessing.
Leaving work late, after rush hour, meant that transit was fast, and I arrived home quickly. The last of the day's sun was quickly slipping away, its final rays turning all the world gold on this brisk almost-autumn evening. I felt my mouth pull into a smile, almost involuntarily; I was starting to feel pretty good again. Knowing that I had all of tomorrow free—and Polly watching my back—lifted my mood.
With my spirits restored, I descended the steps to my apartment and opened my door. But as I stepped into my apartment, the crushing weight of despair washed over me. So much for my good mood...What was with this place? Maybe it was all in my head, some sort of placebo effect. Was it making me feel rotten because I expected it to make me feel rotten?
Mind over matter, I reminded myself. I tried to will the bad mood to lift but I was unable to budge it. It hung around me like a thick fog. I just gave up and sighed, removing my coat and putting away my work things. I emptied the contents of my pockets into a little decorative bowl near the door, once again hanging my keys up on the hook.
Though Polly had said that I was supposed to take it easy, I took a few more hours of solid work to finish the presentation. I wanted it out of the way; if I didn't get it done, I wouldn't be able to relax tomorrow, regardless of what Polly commanded. As I worked, my gaze would flash up to the key hook, constantly checking if they were still there, like I was challenging them to move. Thankfully, they stayed where they were.
It was just before eleven when I finished. As I ejected the USB key from my laptop, about to put it away, the morning flashed through my mind. I eyed my keys on the hook again and then looked back at the little USB drive in my palm. With so many things disappearing, would it be wise to let it out of my sight? I didn't want to lose all of tonight's work, nor Polly's USB key—there was more on it than just the presentation.
An idea lit like a spark in my head. Suddenly I had a plan, a plan to prove to myself that I was just being silly and that it was all just my head playing tricks on me. I plugged in the USB key again, copied all the files from it onto my laptop, zipped it, and emailed myself a copy, just in case.
Then I grabbed a sheet of paper from my printer and, with a red marker, drew a large circle in the centre. I placed it on my kitchen counter, then ejected the USB key from my laptop, and put in the middle of the red circle.
There. Now I could be sure exactly where I had left my things, and I couldn't accuse some unseen force of making off with my knickknacks. I scoffed to myself. This would settle my mind. This would prove I was just being paranoid, and I simply needed to calm down and keep better track of my things.
I left it at that and walked towards the bathroom, peeling off my work clothes, to get in a well-deserved hot shower.
I spent a good long while in there, enjoying the warm water. It was nice and relaxing, and finally my horrid mood from earlier began to ease away. See? I told myself. Mind over matter. When I got out, I put on my most comfortable clothes—my favourite pair of yoga pants and a mauve cashmere sweater—and went back into the main room, planning to start a Netflix marathon... but stopped dead in my tracks.
It was gone.
The flash drive was gone.
And so was my laptop.
The sheet of paper, however, was still on the counter, undisturbed, obvious proof that I had left the items there. But they weren't there.
Not anymore.
For a moment, all I could do was blink stupidly at the empty spot where my possessions once sat. Then I dropped to my knees, looking under the counter to see if the flash drive had somehow slid off, but there was nothing there either.
My breath started coming in ragged gasps. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. The fact that my entire laptop had gone missing made my stomach twist. I felt like I might barf. How... How could this happen?
Thankfully I had emailed the files to myself, but how was I supposed to work on them if I didn't have my laptop? And I didn't have the money to replace it. Not to mention all the files, photos, memories...
My thoughts became a string of panicked profanities.
Desperate for some sort of sensible answer, I tore my apartment apart, yet again. I looked in every possible crevice, every nook and every cranny, and still, there was nothing. Not even dust bunnies.
Had someone come into my apartment while I had been in the shower? No, that was impossible. I hadn't heard anything while I was in there, and it wasn't like the shower was very loud. Plus, the chain was on my front door, and there was only one entrance. The windows were even more unlikely; if they opened at all, they had bars on them. This place was like a minor fortress.
So where the fuck did my stuff go?
I stomped back and forth across my living room, muttering to myself, throwing my hands up in exasperation. Then I stopped dead in the middle of the room and screamed. I was so utterly done with this unexplainable streak of bad luck.
"Give them back!" I wailed, though I wasn't sure who I was supposedly yelling at. Maybe to the cosmos, for making my life hell.
Unfortunately, something replied.
It started as a low, rumbling growl, and then rose sharply until it was almost like the ear-splitting shriek of a feral cat. The sound filled my entire apartment, echoing off the walls, reverberating through my skull. I froze in place, trying to figure out where it was coming from, but it seemed to be emanating from the very air. My guts felt like they were about to liquefy as I listened to it drag on.
The scream reached its pitch and cut off abruptly, but the air felt like it was live with electricity. Then my bedroom door slammed shut, making a noise like a gunshot, shaking everything in the room. I leapt backwards, slamming my back to the wall.
I stood there for a second, in shock, before breaking into a run, grabbing anything within reach—my keys and cell phone—and got the hell out of there.
I slammed my door behind me, not caring to lock it, and tore down the street. I just needed to get away from that place as fast as I could.
🔮
Have you ever had a paranormal experience?