Chapter Text
It's everywhere. If you turn around, it will be behind your back. Will jump out from around a corner or appear from the shadows. You'll never know where he is until his teeth bite into your neck. It's always here. I feel him behind me.
Small particles settle in my lungs - I can hardly control my cough. Tears appear in my eyes.
With difficulty dragging my unruly legs, I make my way along the school corridor, which is no longer a school corridor. Or rather, the one he was before. Every surface is now covered with sticky unknown mucus. It is no longer just a building, but a living organism.
The mucus under my sneakers squelched disgustingly. The sole had difficulty lifting off the floor. With each step it becomes more difficult to walk. My heart beat rapidly against my chest. The scratches on the palms burned when poisonous particles fell on them. My vision blurs, but I force myself to compose myself, reluctantly turning the corner.
The subconscious screamed, ordering him to run. Where? Home? Do I have a home? Time after time I come back here, so why not stay here? Is this where I belong? Maybe I'm destined to be here - in a dank and nightmare world.
The legs suddenly stopped carrying the body forward. I almost fall face first into an unknown slurry. Horror grips the body with deathly cold. Damn, damn, damn!
The doors of the assembly hall loomed like a shadow in front of me.
“Don’t go there,” the thought desperately beat against my skull. Now the subconscious was not just screaming - it was screaming. Everything in me resisted, but my legs were already moving forward. I'm almost ready to grin. My body has never belonged to me, even if it only showed up in small ways before. He was nearby, holding invisible control over me. Now He has gained power and is using it to the fullest. He makes me see this place and now makes me clasp my hand with a trembling palm.
Cold steel freezes my hand, but I'm not going to move. I know what will happen next. I can't stand another hundred nights of fear. I can't see this again!
Resisted until he took control again. Internally I pray for this to end. Please! I watched as my own fingers wrapped around the handle. I swallow the viscous saliva. Your throat tightens, as does your chest, as the creak echoes down the hallway. Reflects the ringing in my ears.
I couldn’t decide - he always decided what I should do. Disgust at my weakness shackled my body. To my own tears. I’ve seen this a hundred times and every time I cry like a weakling. That's what he needs. But I can’t help it, letting icy tears run down my cheeks. What a weakling!
The latch clanged. The sound like a sentence hit me. I knew what I would see and yet the air was knocked out of my lungs when the door swung open.
A deafening bang broke the silence. Splashes of cold liquid from the fallen something flooded his face. I staggered, coughing. The object fell to the floor with a wet squelch. With my dirty sleeve I try to touch the vile liquid from my face. My eyes burn. The metallic smell hits my nose and I'm close to vomiting. My foot touched a puddle on the floor and my heart sank.
I've lived this so many times, but I still couldn't get used to it. It's unlikely that I would ever be able to. Every night it gets worse, as if I'm experiencing everything for the first time.
I fell to my knees. The object that burst turned out to be Sam's head. There was a frightened expression on his face. The one that was reflected on his face on the day of my resurrection. There was no trace of life in his eyes. Crimson liquid flowed from the severed neck. Blood.
Sam... Please no. I remember that this is not true. Sam is alive and sleeping peacefully in his bed, but he cups his friend's face with his hands. I mutter unrelated words to myself. I wasn't a good friend to him, but I'm not ready to see him like this. Pale and young. He looks almost peaceful, so vulnerable. My hands are stained with blood. Tears roll down my face as I bend over the corpse. Fingers trace stripes across the bloody skin.
What am I trying to do? Bring Sam to his senses? I don’t really understand it myself.
I can barely suppress the urge to gag when I notice that half of my head is missing. Only scraps and fragments of a skull. That blood that stained my face and the cotton - fantasies of His sick brain to scare me even more?
Yes.
But the goo under my fingers is as real as the fear.
There is a rustling sound to my left. Almost instinctively I turn around. Curses escape from the mouth.
Belleville High School students filled the auditorium. They were not the same as I remembered them. They're dead. Every single one of them. The disco ball illuminated the bodies. Blood flowed from the broken students, filling the floor with a crimson lake. The mouths of the dead are wide open in a silent scream. A dark abyss shone from the gouged out eye sockets.
My wet palms slid across the slime as I tried to crawl back. Isn't that enough for him? Damn it! This didn't happen before. I frantically look around the hall, not looking at the students. If I look at them again, I'll vomit. What else does he need from me? Soon I understand. The scream was stuck in my throat.
Michelle was on stage near the speaker. Her arms and legs were twisted at a painful angle. The garland was pressing on her neck, shining madly on her body. Only emptiness looked ahead instead of eyes. Streams of blood flowed down his pale cheeks. The skin turned deathly pale. Everything inside me freezes.
I don't realize I'm screaming until the scream pierces my ears.
The darkness dissipates with him.
The silence of the corridor was broken by a bell. High school students spilled out of their classrooms. In a matter of seconds, the corridor was filled with conversations. Identical jeans and bleached hair flashed here and there. The cabinets were opened and emptied one after another. High school students hurriedly left the school, knocking each other down.
The door of the biology classroom opened and four people jumped out: three guys and a girl. Bill laughed at his friend's joke, while kissing his girlfriend on the cheek. Tina smiled, hiding her red cheeks with her hair. Garry and Gally, walking nearby, laughed, not paying attention to the cries of disgruntled students who were knocked down.
In the cacaphony of voices, the slam of the far door was not heard. I run out of the classroom, heading down the now all too familiar route. Of course, I didn’t have time to disappear into the crowd—I’ve never succeeded—when someone called out from behind.
— Ann, wait!
I ignored that too. As much as I wanted to turn around and finally break this circle of self-flagellation, hearing so much despair and pleading in someone else’s voice, I wasn’t going to do it. I bump shoulders with other students, ignoring their angry shouts. The jacket rode up in the sleeve and I hurried to adjust it, but goosebumps were already creeping up my wrist from the cold. Even being distracted, I didn’t slow down. If only I could leave this place as quickly as possible. If I'm fast enough, I can avoid a fight.
And it didn't work out for me. I reached into my backpack as soon as I was outside, fishing out my headphones. The familiar smooth surface strangely calmed me. Unconsciously I run the phalanx of my finger along it. But I don’t have time to put them on - they crash into me with all their might. Out of surprise, I fly back, falling into someone's arms. Michelle - I understand and a shiver immediately runs through my body.
I already want to break free when I look up at the man who crashed into me. Michelle grabbed me by the shoulders, helping me stay on my feet. A bunch of idiots smiled at them like a pack of hyenas. Tina, standing behind the guys, covered her lips, curved in a grin, with her hand. My hands are reaching out to erase this smile. Bill, unlike his friends, looked anywhere but at us. Tina leaned towards him and whispered in his ear, and he chuckled tightly. I know that smile of his, Sam only smiles like that when he is ashamed and uncomfortable. Is he really ashamed of his friends' behavior? Harry, who knocked me down in the first place, looks down at them with his arms crossed on Gally's shoulder. Gally himself grins and steps closer to us.
I dig my nails into my pant leg and, overpowering myself, press myself against Michelle’s shoulder, it’s better with her than with such idiots. It's too hot. I already know that I will spend at least an hour washing away the remnants of Michelle's burning touches.
— We didn’t even notice you.
Gally's vile voice digs into his eardrums Although his smell is even worse, I hope he doesn't come any closer. His disgusting perfume and sweat from training give off a simply disgusting aroma.
My gut tightens as he takes another step forward. I suddenly swallow hard, but still stand upright. Gally is not He, but he also wants to make her afraid. This is exactly what I was afraid of - in the last year these idiots have only become more annoying. As if it wasn't enough before. And now, without friends, thinner and weaker, no longer able to defend myself in any way, I became an ideal target for them. Michelle's bony fingers dig into my skin, pulling me back from the guy, ready to rush away at any moment. Her heavy breathing burns my neck — I shudder from this more than from the cold. Doesn't she understand that she's only making things worse?
— What do you want? — Michelle hisses, but is ignored. Gally's attention is focused on me. And I don't give in.
I look into Gally’s eyes, but lower my gaze to the headphones lying at my feet. They flew out of his hands on impact and fell to the ground near Gally's feet. If I lose them, the winter holidays will turn into my personal hell. Just the thought of it sends shivers down my spine. Not this. The anniversary is coming soon, which means that the number and nightmares themselves will become larger and longer.
He looked away for only a moment, but Harry noticed it. A devilish smile spread across his lips. My teeth gritted from the force with which I clenched my jaw. What a fool!
— You need to be more careful, but... — he paused, pointing to the headphones. Michelle, obviously, also understood everything — the scorching breath froze as soon as she held her breath. I'm torn between wanting to push her away and wanting to grab my headphones and get out of here as quickly as possible. And my third wish is to answer Gally at least once, but this is destined to remain only my wish. As soon as I react, this bullying stops being just verbal. — With this thing you don’t notice anything... You have to interact with the world, don’t you, Annie? I can help you.
Gally was approaching. A metallic taste appeared inside my mouth — I bit my cheek, stopping myself from interfering. If you do nothing, they will simply get bored and leave. The pain sobered up a little.
—We are friends, and friends help each other. — Gally drawled, savoring every vowel, — And they only bother you... I think it’s better to get rid of them!
He had barely finished his last word when his leg flew up. I stumbled back, but Michelle pulled me back, gripping my elbows so tightly that I was sure to leave scratches. This was only at the last place of my worries. The crackling sound of the headphones echoed in my head. The next second they crumpled under Gally's boot. Everything seems to have stopped.
Blood thundered in my ears. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Bill flinch in shock. Even Tina froze in surprise. However, her laughter broke through the rumbling.
Gally's words afterward flew past me. I don’t remember how the group left — maybe the teachers or Michelle dispersed them — only the way I fell to my knees sobered me up. The gaze is focused on the mangled object. Multi-colored wires protruded from the headphones that had fallen apart. Each of them was responsible for something, but for what? Don't know. And what's the difference? All of them are now torn to shreds anyway. The long-faded stickers on the outside of the headphones were torn in two.
My hands were shaking. Understanding slowly crept into my throat.
The crowd around whispered as they passed by the scene. They don’t even think about helping, and I don’t expect that. Being among the outcasts since childhood took some getting used to.
The wet earth stained my shatan as I carefully lifted the headphones from the ground. I'm not crying, I'm just watching. They are only a year old. Gally doesn't understand what they meant to me. He didn't need to go through That Place and understand that music was the only thing keeping him back from the abyss. Gally could buy himself at least a few pairs of these headphones - but it’s not even a matter of fact that I can’t afford it. Can. I saved money for a whole year. This is just the last thing left from my past.
Michelle sat behind her - not cuddling, but keeping her distance. And it’s good, my back still burns from her touch. She chattered, looking at the headphones in my hands. — Damn it! — Michelle extended her hand, but froze and it fell limply. Well, of course. Anger flares up inside me, but then dies down. I've been making fun of Michelle myself all year, so she finally started to consider my feelings.
The corners of my eyes stung. Previously, on the back of the headphones there was a poorly drawn hare - so ugly it was disgusting — but still loved. Now the image was torn in half.
—Don’t worry, we’ll fix everything.. We’ll fix it! — Michelle paused, — Or we’ll buy new ones..
I shake my head. There is no need to force Michelle to do anything. —It's okay, Michelle. — I say quietly, stuffing the thing into my briefcase. Michelle looked at me with huge, guilty eyes, as if she was to blame for what had happened. I want to console her, but instead I take a deep breath and turn around. The longer I stay here, the worse it will be. — Be careful.
Walking around my friend, I quickly leave the school yard. A familiar car was parked in the parking lot. I jumped into the car, immediately inhaling the scent of my mother's perfume. Mom herself turned around with a slight, worried smile. There were wrinkles and dark circles under her eyes. My mother often has to work night shifts, but she still picks me up from school every day. I am immensely grateful to her for this, although the feeling of guilt squeezed my throat. All my attempts to persuade her to stop torturing herself were dismissed.
—Is everything okay, baby? — Anxiety flashed in the mother’s pupils, which never seemed to subside. I nod, clutching my backpack tighter to my stomach. The mother filled the silence with a story about her day and the radio. My mother's voice envelops me. I barely catch bits of her words, but it’s clear that everything is as routine as always. It’s so common that it makes you want to puke from trying to show everyone around you that they live a fun life, completely different from the life of everyone else. A gray and empty landscape flashed past the window. It seemed that the whole city was drowned in this greyness. Absorbed and its inhabitants also turned into it - without standing out or being different. All with the same opinion, look and vision. As soon as you distinguish yourself, you will be trampled.
I was no different from them. Now no, before I stupidly did what was wrong and paid the price. The consequences still haunt me to this day.
A store flashed before my eyes. I make a mental note to visit there later. The best option for me now is to buy new headphones, but if mine can still be repaired, then I will do everything for it. Although I already understand that it's finished.
The car rocked on a bump as soon as we turned off the main road. The road to the house is strewn with uneven surfaces, unlike all others in the city. Almost no one lived on the outskirts and there was no point in leveling the asphalt.
The mother parked outside the house and jingled her keys loudly. She pushed the wooden door, to which it creaked pitifully. Although we bought this house recently, it is quite old, with creaking floors and peeling walls. Mom only bought it because it is further from the forest than our old home. Even though we couldn't afford anything more expensive than this house, I don't like it too much. And yet it's better than before. The old one was ready to fall apart at any second and there were too many memories stored there, much more than I can handle. Here I have a larger room and thicker walls, instead of the cardboard boards that were there before. I don't hear my mother’s cry, just as she does not hear me anymore.
I hastened to hide in the room. The creaking of chair legs moving away and the dull thud of a backpack against the wall is a ritual that accompanies me every single day. Again and again. Sometimes I think what would have happened if that evening a year ago had not happened? Was life still a gray routine or would it change? I collapsed onto the chair and its back dug into my shoulders. Yet malnutrition had made my body sharp, with bones visible from the skin. Previously non-painful touches now felt like an unpleasant pressure. Probably, in another branch of the development of events in my life this did not happen.
My gaze slid over the dents and fragments of the headphones, and then moved to the bed.
There were deep dents in the wall, and pale scratches spread across the headboard. There will only be more of them in the future. If I cut my nails, there will be fewer traces of my unsuccessful impulses. The alarm clock was teetering on the edge of the nightstand. It’s also my doing — it needs to be fixed, otherwise you’ll have to buy a new alarm clock.
I wince at the memory of how it happened. Instead of looking at the bed, I looked at the nightstand. More precisely on the bottom shelf. There, hidden under layers of sportswear and a couple of notebooks, was my piggy bank. I should still try to buy headphones — now that I have recovered from the shock, I understand everything. The thought of spending the night without them sent a shiver through my body. There's no way I'll spend the night without them. With them, my bed turned into a place of horror, as if someone was being tortured here. I myself didn’t notice how I got up and found myself in front of the cabinet. The bottom shelf came out with a roar, almost falling out from the jerk. An ordinary shoe box was hidden at the bottom of the shelf. I flip the lid aside and grab a handful of money.
One, three, six... I count them and breathe out a sigh of relief. Enough. The anxiety squeezing my temples tightly recedes. A sigh escapes involuntarily from my chest. I lean back on the bed, closing my eyes and clutching the bills in my hands. I will survive this night — no, I must survive it. Tomorrow I'll go to the store right after Madeline's appointment.
When I remember Madeline, my body tenses, but I brush away thoughts about tomorrow at the same time as my mother’s voice came from the kitchen:
— Baby! — the hands, unconsciously squeezing the thing, relaxed. I looked at my pulsating palm: there were several parallel lines from the box on it. Not wanting to keep her mother waiting, she threw the cache back into the cabinet and rubbed her palms on her jeans.
The smell of my mother's tape was in the kitchen. I held my breath for a moment, feeling nausea rise up in my throat from the smell. Even though I ate my last meal in the morning, I don’t feel hungry at all. It was like there were stones in my stomach that filled all the free space. But at the same time I understand that food is needed to maintain the body. Mother, if she notices that I have stopped eating again, she'll go crazy.
There is no need to bother her in vain. Mom herself was now busy in the kitchen in her pale purple apron. It was stained with food and grease and worn out, but his mother refused to change it. On one of the ropes there was a patch with the inscription: “By Annette Elizabeth Galbraith.” I remember how, several years ago, I was proud of this apron as the masterpiece of my life.
I knock on the doorway, indicating my presence. As soon as she turned away from the boiling pan, mom smiled. Something in that smile predicted that I would not like what my mother was going to say.
— Susan called. — my heart sank. This is definitely bad news. Mom lowered her gaze and did not look at me, only in front of her. I swallowed nervously — I would rather lock myself at home than meet any of the Florences. After everything I've done? Hell no! I'll burn with shame if I have to look them in the eyes. But melancholy squeezed my chest. I hummed questioningly, trying to calm down my outward nervousness.
I cross my arms over my chest, holding my hands under my armpits. Despite the heat in the kitchen, the body was icy, but this cold sobered the panicking mind. This time I won't be able to get away with it. For a whole year I prevented my mother from meeting her best friend — although not on purpose. After everything she does for me! Then, even though the government covers the costs of treatment, I need to show the results. Otherwise it's all pointless. Soon they'll get tired of this - they will send me to a psychiatric hospital or put me on a stronger drug. This cannot be allowed to happen.
While waiting for my mother to finish cooking, I took a deep breath. I paid all my attention to this — according to Mrs. Madeline, it helps. But relief from breathing control did not come. Only music helped me, so while they are absent I will have to make do with this. The mother cleared her throat awkwardly. Oh. I wince and raise my head. Mom looked at the table, straightening the embroidery on the empty chair next to her. It's as if whoever is supposed to be sitting there can still calm her down. I should say it out loud, but I don't have the courage. My legs shake as I sit down opposite my mother and the empty chair.
— She invited us and the Reyers to dinner the day after tomorrow. After the Snowy Moment. — Mother stirred the tea too quickly, causing the contents to spill out of the cup.
It might have seemed to my mother that I forgot about the holiday organized by the school, but that was not the case. I would have to wipe my memory to forget about it. The countdown to the "Snow Moment" has been decreasing in my mind since last year. It would be better if I really forgot about everything. Then I would be able to live a normal life. However, instead I will have to pretend that I am getting better. I silently look at the plate placed in front of me. The thought of dinner at the Florences' house curbed his already weak appetite.
The light blinked. I almost didn't notice it - there are electrical problems in our house.
More than this, I was worried about the strange relationship with Michelle, from whom I had been moving away all year. I needed to rip off the band-aid and not torture myself or my friend, but I can’t find the strength to do it. All my attempts ended in failure under Michelle's pressure. What would make the dinner even worse is Michelle's father, Mr. Wilson, who doesn't like me and doesn't even hide it. But he is right in that he tried to isolate his daughter from my influence. And I'm right about who I am. Everyone around me knew it before I even realized this part of myself. They know my secret. Although I already knew that people knew, the thought of Mr. Wilson sent chills down my spine.
The fork creaked across the plate. Mom’s nails drummed restlessly on the table. The light went out.
On the other hand, Mrs. Flores will be at dinner. Susan treats me almost like a third child. Mrs. Flores, unlike her husband, never said a bad word about me. Besides, Susan is my mother's best friend and they haven't seen each other for a long time because of me. At night, sometimes I just wanted to cry to her like before.
And then there was Isaac. The last time I saw Michelle's younger brother was when he turned seven. Isaac often asked me to draw with him while Mr. Wilson was away. All this year I refused such dinners. Although my mother was upset, she tried to hide it from me, always supporting my decisions. But this time everything was different. There was only one day left until the day that changed everything. If I don't go to dinner, the alternative is to get lost in my thoughts. There are too many things that could bring me back to that place. The best outcome of the evening is if I can hide in Isaac's room from Michelle and her father. And the Reyers... I’m not eager to see Billy either, but knowing him and his family, they won’t come to dinner at all.
I wanted to refuse again, but considering all the factors, it’s time for me to stop being a coward. It's okay to talk and let Michelle go and stop interfering with her mother's friendship with Susan. I had been silent for too long and I spoke almost in a whisper.
— Okay
— Okay? — Mom opened her eyes wide, but her face immediately lit up with a cautious smile. She froze as if I realized what I said and would take it back. I didn’t do this - I just put a piece of tasteless potato in my mouth. Mom seemed to glow. She filled her cup with tea with undisguised happiness. — Thank you. The gratitude and hope with which the mother looked stood as a hard lump in her throat. What have I brought her to with my behavior?
I froze with the fork in my hand, barely lowering it onto the table. Mom looked at me not just with gratitude for my agreement, but with hope for the return of her daughter. That I will become the same again. Despite her hopes, this will not happen. I pushed the plate of barely touched food away from me. I dryly thank my mother and get up from the table. Mom frowned, looking from the plate to me, but remained silent. I disappeared from her sight, taking the dishes to the sink.
The cold water cut into the palms, but something inside trembled joyfully. The light blinked again. My teeth ground as I pulled my hands out from under the stream of water and stared at the flashing lamp. Mom muttered unflattering words about who did the wiring. The sellers said that there were no problems before we moved, but these repeated interruptions are starting to worry. As I sharply move the towel around the plate, I say to myself, trying in every possible way to avoid two more important problems than wiring.
Mom pats me on the shoulder. — Go, honey, I’ll wash
I sigh and throw the wet towel on the chair, after placing the washed dishes on the stand. “A snowy moment,” I think, tightly slamming the door to my room, accompanied by my mother’s look full of fragile hope. I wanted to scream that it was all a mistake. That I won't be healed overnight and that the nightmares won't subside. But the words stuck in my throat. I collapsed on the floor, leaning on the wall.
"Snow Moment"
And without my mother’s reminder, these two words have been heard on repeat for the past two weeks. And two weeks before them, and a year. Despite advice to distract himself from thoughts about what had happened, the only distraction was thoughts about Michelle, which, of course, did not make the situation better.
I just want to rest.