AWAKE ;; Part II
Heather was silent as I made my way to the back of the store, more than just the weather contributing to the drastic drop in temperature that my body was now experiencing. The words of the unwelcome intruder were tattooed to my thoughts, and I couldn't keep from deliberating them. The break room's door slammed shut behind me and I settled into an empty chair with a heavy sigh.
Whoever that "Dmitry" guy was, he had information about Eyeless. He knew that I was being haunted by visions of the man with nothing in his eye sockets, and he was trying to warn me… Still, the question of how he knew about my delusions plagued my brain. It wasn't like I was broadcasting the fact that, for the last two days, I've been hounded by scary and eerily life-like visions. I hadn't even told my dad, for Pete's sake! How did this complete stranger have more information than, it would seem, I do?
Stalker, my mind provided, and I held back a cynical snort. That was hardly the answer. It was more probable that this guy was behind the appearance of Eyeless. Which really was a silly thought. I hadn't met the Russian until today, but since yesterday, the "ghost" (according to Dmitry) has been disturbing me. Those times were, albeit coincidental, but they didn't immediately link the two. For all I knew, Dmitry came after Eyeless, because he was tracking the thing. That would suggest that the man was a Ghostbuster or something.
A painful ache began at the base of my head, creeping up to pound, mercilessly, in my ears. Groans echoed through the break room as I stood, cracking open the First Aid unit above the sink. Snagging a generic pain reliever - the higher the milligrams, the better - before pulling out cash and dropping a can of soda from the vender.
As I took a few swigs to swallow the pills, I froze as a hand seemed to skim over my shoulders. Spinning around, violently, I ignored the sloshing of my beverage as it spilt over my hand. I rounded on my wide-eyed manager and, at the sight of a normal human being, I felt a flush of embarrassment touch my cheeks. I had sworn that it was… something not alive, honestly.
"Hi, Karen," I greeted with a nervous laugh. I returned to the sink, at that point, to rinse off the drink. Behind me, the manager had frowned and wrapped her arms across her chest.
Karen wasn't, by any means, a small woman. She wasn't too kind, gentle, or understanding, either. Quite the opposite, truth be told. She could be the most over-bearing, persistent, and demanding bitch this side of the hemisphere, without any provocation. Today seemed to be one of those days as the large woman bellowed, "Ms. Vitale… Why are you back here?" Her voice was callous and sounded as though she had swallowed gravel. I looked back to her, wiping at my hands with a paper towel. "Heather is by herself at the registers - and you are back here drinking and loafing about!"
"Hardly," I interrupted, before she could continue. "I was taking some pain medicine." Karen's face darkened to the shade of a cherry, and I hurriedly returned to defending myself. "Heather is more than capable of taking care of the customers for a few minutes, otherwise why would you hire her?" My tone was silk, which seemed to irritate my manager further. "I'll be returning to the front, if that is all…"
It wasn't the best idea to backtalk your manager, and it probably result in a review, later, but at the moment I relished my small victory. Sidestepping the frustrated woman, I hurried out of the break room, heading towards the front of the store. Heather was staring at me with a small smile, her face tense with worry. "What happened?"
"Karen yelled, I defended," I summarized, my own grin playing at the sides of my mouth.
The cashier scoffed at me, "Not what I meant. What happened with that Russian guy?"
I shrugged in answer, "Nothing, really. I just told him that his name and face would be posted on the bulletin in the back, and he would never be allowed to enter the store again." Well, no, I hadn't, but there had been talk about him staying away from my job.
"What was he talking about, earlier, anyways? Bruises? Seeing things? What's going on?" She gestured to her jaw, "Where did you get these?"
"Don't worry about it, Heather… You have someone in line." I thanked the customer, silently, for distracting the other female, as I slinked back to count the inventory.
---
Even though work sucked from that point on, I was feeling a bit anxious as I stared at the time-clock. When I swiped my time card, I would be off-shift. Normally this would be a time of joy, for me, but knowing that outside lurked a man that knew about my ghostly visitor… It scared the wits out of me. Still, if I lingered any longer, Karen would accuse me of milking the clock. Choosing the lesser of two evils - or so I hoped - I passed the card through the reader.
5:03 PM
My heart stilled a bit, but I ignored it, in favor of retrieving my coat from the break room. I passed the manager's office as I came back, flashing a wide smile at the manager sitting in her seat. "Good night, Karen," I hummed at the woman. It was almost obvious that I didn't like nor want this job, it would seem.
Seeing her red face, I skittered off, keeping my laughter, silent. However, just barely.
As I reached the exit of the store, I acknowledged the relief cashier that had taken over for Heather a few hours ago. Luckily, for me, Heather was only part-time and could only work a couple of hours a day. That kept me from having to deal with anymore pressing questions about the Russian and his accusations.
And his warning, my mind supplied, and I waved that thought away. I would not bother with listening to that, for now.
The brisk, winter chill seeped through me, despite my coat, as soon as the automatic doors opened. With quick feet, I crossed the entirety of the parking lot, until I stood by my car. I shivered, unlocking the door, before sliding into my seat. As soon as the door shut, I felt better, but just blocking the wind wasn't enough to warm me. The engine turned, as I put the key in the ignition. It would be awhile until the car was heated, but I just relaxed in the driver's seat, waiting.
Drip, plop, drip
The sounds were strange, I noted first. It was like a leaky faucet… But the landing sound was too muffled to have been water. It was obviously a thick liquid that was falling. Like pudding, or shampoo…
Or blood.
That thought shook me, and I lurched forward with a rather harsh suddenness. I settled my sights behind me, twisting in my chair to accommodate. "You…" I whispered, feeling my airway tighten in response.
In my backseat, the headless corpse from yesterday's incident at the intersection sat with his hands on his knees. My stomach dropped to my feet, while my lungs seemed to take up refuge in my throat. There was red covering his shoulders, his chest, stomach, legs… It wrapped down his arms and was starting to pool around him on the seat. If I wasn't so horrified, I would have mourned the sight of my new interior being ruined by the congealing blood.
"What… are you doing here?" I managed to squeak out. Mortified at my hesitant tone, I cleared my throat and admonished myself for asking a headless corpse why he was in my car. Hell, why the hell wasn't I running from the vehicle in absolute terror?
You can see me.
I lurched in my seat at the voice that seemed to echo in the small cabin space. It was raspy and it was deep. A hand rose from the knee it rested on, and reached forward, as if to touch my face. I flinched backwards, feeling my back press hard against the steering wheel. The position was awkward, and the situation made more so, when the horn blared at the weight. I checked behind me, towards the front of the car, releasing my body from the controls. I felt a whisper of cold pass across my neck, then, and I jerked away.
With all this sudden movement, I was surprised that someone hadn't accused me of being epileptic. Peeking back at the empty seat behind me, I sighed. This entire Eyeless/Headless thing was starting to exhaust me.
A knock on my window didn't even phase me, as I shifted my hand to lower the window. The sound of gears echoed through the car and I stared, bleary-eyed at the gentleman that now looked at me with concern. "You all right, miss…?"
"Yeah, I'm good." His quizzical expression seemed to ease, and I let out another long exhale. "Just tired, but thank you for the concern." It was always polite to be nice. Good Samaritans were hard to find these days.
"Take it easy. A pretty, young lady, such as yourself, should be careful driving in these conditions." I flushed at the compliment, barely managing a subtle nod at his warning. He was right, after all. The roads were trashed - when exactly did it start snowing again? I staunched that thought, quickly. It was New York, after all. When didn't it snow?
When the man walked away, I slid my window back up, blocking the wind from invading my car, once more. The temperature gauge on my dash was high enough that I was willing to risk leaving my parking space. I was drained of any fear and anxiety, feeling the weight on my shoulders sliding away. I was starting to surrender myself to this whole "suddenly-seeing-dead-people" thing. Though I did slightly regret not getting more information from Dmitry before kicking him out of the store. I should've grilled him.
---
After class, that evening, I managed to slip into the apartment without a reappearance from Headless or Eyeless. Which calmed my nerves even further than just accepting their presence. Maybe believing in them kept them from emerging? I could only hope.
Dad was already home, apparent by the presence of his shoes by the door. I didn't expect dinner when I opened the door, and wasn't disappointed when the stove remained cold and the sink free of dishes. "Dad! Did you eat?" I yelled in the direction of his room. I heard a muffled 'yes' and sighed. Must've been a microwavable meal, if he wasn't lying. Opening the freezer, myself, I submitted to the high sodium count, and snagged my own dinner from the ice box.
As the microwave turned, I dropped my backpack on one of the seats at the table, undoing my coat, and laying it over the back of the same chair. My gloves and scarf were stuffed into the pockets, and I toed off my shoes in the tray by the door. I earnestly begged that they would dry before school the next day.
Settling into the spare seat at the table, I pulled my right leg up to my chest, balancing the arch of my foot on the edge of the chair. The lights were still out, the only illumination coming from the whirling microwave and the stove hood's lamp. I wasn't going to let myself develop a fear of the dark, so I admonished my reaction as my heart leapt to race erratically. Forcing the organ to calm and return to normal, I walked to grab my food as the appliance pierced the air with loud, piercing beeps.
It wasn't delicious, and it certainly wasn't nutritious, but my stomach seemed to appreciate the substance and stopped painfully reminding me that breakfast had been a bagel and over twelve hours ago. Tossing out the container and washing the fork that I had used to eat, I made my way to my bedroom. The ceiling light brightly lit the room, and I tossed my book-bag beside my bed.
Flopping onto my mattress, I snuggled into my pillow and sighed. The exhaustion of the day had me sluggish to the point that I didn't even bother to go under the blankets, or turn out the lights - I simply fell asleep.
Whoever that "Dmitry" guy was, he had information about Eyeless. He knew that I was being haunted by visions of the man with nothing in his eye sockets, and he was trying to warn me… Still, the question of how he knew about my delusions plagued my brain. It wasn't like I was broadcasting the fact that, for the last two days, I've been hounded by scary and eerily life-like visions. I hadn't even told my dad, for Pete's sake! How did this complete stranger have more information than, it would seem, I do?
Stalker, my mind provided, and I held back a cynical snort. That was hardly the answer. It was more probable that this guy was behind the appearance of Eyeless. Which really was a silly thought. I hadn't met the Russian until today, but since yesterday, the "ghost" (according to Dmitry) has been disturbing me. Those times were, albeit coincidental, but they didn't immediately link the two. For all I knew, Dmitry came after Eyeless, because he was tracking the thing. That would suggest that the man was a Ghostbuster or something.
A painful ache began at the base of my head, creeping up to pound, mercilessly, in my ears. Groans echoed through the break room as I stood, cracking open the First Aid unit above the sink. Snagging a generic pain reliever - the higher the milligrams, the better - before pulling out cash and dropping a can of soda from the vender.
As I took a few swigs to swallow the pills, I froze as a hand seemed to skim over my shoulders. Spinning around, violently, I ignored the sloshing of my beverage as it spilt over my hand. I rounded on my wide-eyed manager and, at the sight of a normal human being, I felt a flush of embarrassment touch my cheeks. I had sworn that it was… something not alive, honestly.
"Hi, Karen," I greeted with a nervous laugh. I returned to the sink, at that point, to rinse off the drink. Behind me, the manager had frowned and wrapped her arms across her chest.
Karen wasn't, by any means, a small woman. She wasn't too kind, gentle, or understanding, either. Quite the opposite, truth be told. She could be the most over-bearing, persistent, and demanding bitch this side of the hemisphere, without any provocation. Today seemed to be one of those days as the large woman bellowed, "Ms. Vitale… Why are you back here?" Her voice was callous and sounded as though she had swallowed gravel. I looked back to her, wiping at my hands with a paper towel. "Heather is by herself at the registers - and you are back here drinking and loafing about!"
"Hardly," I interrupted, before she could continue. "I was taking some pain medicine." Karen's face darkened to the shade of a cherry, and I hurriedly returned to defending myself. "Heather is more than capable of taking care of the customers for a few minutes, otherwise why would you hire her?" My tone was silk, which seemed to irritate my manager further. "I'll be returning to the front, if that is all…"
It wasn't the best idea to backtalk your manager, and it probably result in a review, later, but at the moment I relished my small victory. Sidestepping the frustrated woman, I hurried out of the break room, heading towards the front of the store. Heather was staring at me with a small smile, her face tense with worry. "What happened?"
"Karen yelled, I defended," I summarized, my own grin playing at the sides of my mouth.
The cashier scoffed at me, "Not what I meant. What happened with that Russian guy?"
I shrugged in answer, "Nothing, really. I just told him that his name and face would be posted on the bulletin in the back, and he would never be allowed to enter the store again." Well, no, I hadn't, but there had been talk about him staying away from my job.
"What was he talking about, earlier, anyways? Bruises? Seeing things? What's going on?" She gestured to her jaw, "Where did you get these?"
"Don't worry about it, Heather… You have someone in line." I thanked the customer, silently, for distracting the other female, as I slinked back to count the inventory.
---
Even though work sucked from that point on, I was feeling a bit anxious as I stared at the time-clock. When I swiped my time card, I would be off-shift. Normally this would be a time of joy, for me, but knowing that outside lurked a man that knew about my ghostly visitor… It scared the wits out of me. Still, if I lingered any longer, Karen would accuse me of milking the clock. Choosing the lesser of two evils - or so I hoped - I passed the card through the reader.
5:03 PM
My heart stilled a bit, but I ignored it, in favor of retrieving my coat from the break room. I passed the manager's office as I came back, flashing a wide smile at the manager sitting in her seat. "Good night, Karen," I hummed at the woman. It was almost obvious that I didn't like nor want this job, it would seem.
Seeing her red face, I skittered off, keeping my laughter, silent. However, just barely.
As I reached the exit of the store, I acknowledged the relief cashier that had taken over for Heather a few hours ago. Luckily, for me, Heather was only part-time and could only work a couple of hours a day. That kept me from having to deal with anymore pressing questions about the Russian and his accusations.
And his warning, my mind supplied, and I waved that thought away. I would not bother with listening to that, for now.
The brisk, winter chill seeped through me, despite my coat, as soon as the automatic doors opened. With quick feet, I crossed the entirety of the parking lot, until I stood by my car. I shivered, unlocking the door, before sliding into my seat. As soon as the door shut, I felt better, but just blocking the wind wasn't enough to warm me. The engine turned, as I put the key in the ignition. It would be awhile until the car was heated, but I just relaxed in the driver's seat, waiting.
Drip, plop, drip
The sounds were strange, I noted first. It was like a leaky faucet… But the landing sound was too muffled to have been water. It was obviously a thick liquid that was falling. Like pudding, or shampoo…
Or blood.
That thought shook me, and I lurched forward with a rather harsh suddenness. I settled my sights behind me, twisting in my chair to accommodate. "You…" I whispered, feeling my airway tighten in response.
In my backseat, the headless corpse from yesterday's incident at the intersection sat with his hands on his knees. My stomach dropped to my feet, while my lungs seemed to take up refuge in my throat. There was red covering his shoulders, his chest, stomach, legs… It wrapped down his arms and was starting to pool around him on the seat. If I wasn't so horrified, I would have mourned the sight of my new interior being ruined by the congealing blood.
"What… are you doing here?" I managed to squeak out. Mortified at my hesitant tone, I cleared my throat and admonished myself for asking a headless corpse why he was in my car. Hell, why the hell wasn't I running from the vehicle in absolute terror?
You can see me.
I lurched in my seat at the voice that seemed to echo in the small cabin space. It was raspy and it was deep. A hand rose from the knee it rested on, and reached forward, as if to touch my face. I flinched backwards, feeling my back press hard against the steering wheel. The position was awkward, and the situation made more so, when the horn blared at the weight. I checked behind me, towards the front of the car, releasing my body from the controls. I felt a whisper of cold pass across my neck, then, and I jerked away.
With all this sudden movement, I was surprised that someone hadn't accused me of being epileptic. Peeking back at the empty seat behind me, I sighed. This entire Eyeless/Headless thing was starting to exhaust me.
A knock on my window didn't even phase me, as I shifted my hand to lower the window. The sound of gears echoed through the car and I stared, bleary-eyed at the gentleman that now looked at me with concern. "You all right, miss…?"
"Yeah, I'm good." His quizzical expression seemed to ease, and I let out another long exhale. "Just tired, but thank you for the concern." It was always polite to be nice. Good Samaritans were hard to find these days.
"Take it easy. A pretty, young lady, such as yourself, should be careful driving in these conditions." I flushed at the compliment, barely managing a subtle nod at his warning. He was right, after all. The roads were trashed - when exactly did it start snowing again? I staunched that thought, quickly. It was New York, after all. When didn't it snow?
When the man walked away, I slid my window back up, blocking the wind from invading my car, once more. The temperature gauge on my dash was high enough that I was willing to risk leaving my parking space. I was drained of any fear and anxiety, feeling the weight on my shoulders sliding away. I was starting to surrender myself to this whole "suddenly-seeing-dead-people" thing. Though I did slightly regret not getting more information from Dmitry before kicking him out of the store. I should've grilled him.
---
After class, that evening, I managed to slip into the apartment without a reappearance from Headless or Eyeless. Which calmed my nerves even further than just accepting their presence. Maybe believing in them kept them from emerging? I could only hope.
Dad was already home, apparent by the presence of his shoes by the door. I didn't expect dinner when I opened the door, and wasn't disappointed when the stove remained cold and the sink free of dishes. "Dad! Did you eat?" I yelled in the direction of his room. I heard a muffled 'yes' and sighed. Must've been a microwavable meal, if he wasn't lying. Opening the freezer, myself, I submitted to the high sodium count, and snagged my own dinner from the ice box.
As the microwave turned, I dropped my backpack on one of the seats at the table, undoing my coat, and laying it over the back of the same chair. My gloves and scarf were stuffed into the pockets, and I toed off my shoes in the tray by the door. I earnestly begged that they would dry before school the next day.
Settling into the spare seat at the table, I pulled my right leg up to my chest, balancing the arch of my foot on the edge of the chair. The lights were still out, the only illumination coming from the whirling microwave and the stove hood's lamp. I wasn't going to let myself develop a fear of the dark, so I admonished my reaction as my heart leapt to race erratically. Forcing the organ to calm and return to normal, I walked to grab my food as the appliance pierced the air with loud, piercing beeps.
It wasn't delicious, and it certainly wasn't nutritious, but my stomach seemed to appreciate the substance and stopped painfully reminding me that breakfast had been a bagel and over twelve hours ago. Tossing out the container and washing the fork that I had used to eat, I made my way to my bedroom. The ceiling light brightly lit the room, and I tossed my book-bag beside my bed.
Flopping onto my mattress, I snuggled into my pillow and sighed. The exhaustion of the day had me sluggish to the point that I didn't even bother to go under the blankets, or turn out the lights - I simply fell asleep.