Dark Touch

by Elle Lewis

  My hands went to work. I began gluing the broken pieces of glass together. I wanted to create an abstract design, one that evoked emotion instead of depicting a specific image. For the next several hours, I meticulously selected colors and shapes, creating a visually dynamic pattern. Getting all the pieces to fit was a challenge. It took a lot of patience and concentration, but I enjoyed the process. The colors I selected were deep and dramatic. Rich reds, smoky grays, sea blues and somber greens. I also dispersed brighter pieces throughout, light blues and yellows.

  Gradually, my muscles relaxed and my mind emptied. This project spoke to me. I loved the idea that I could find something broken, an unwanted shard of glass, and change its purpose. The glass did not have to remain broken. It could be fixed, joined with other pieces like it, and turned into something new. Something beautiful.

  Finally, I finished. I sat back and examined my work. The mural had emotion and movement. The many pieces of glass shimmered harmoniously. The lighter pieces were scattered randomly throughout the mural, making it seem as if stars shined within the deep gloom of color. I love it. I stood up slowly, feeling satisfied but also tired.

  I made my way slowly to my bedroom, knowing that I couldn’t delay sleep any longer. I climbed into bed. Whatever happens, it isn’t real. You will wake up in your bedroom, the sun will be shining. It will be over. I pulled the comforter over myself, not wanting to think about the terrors that lay ahead. Jesus, what I wouldn’t give for just one restful night—without dreams.

  To distract myself I thought about James, replaying our conversation at dinner in my mind. I thought about the sound of his voice and the expressions that crossed his face while he spoke. His crooked grin. They way his hand had felt, wrapped in mine. What is his story? He was so captivating, easy to talk to. Caring. I drifted off to sleep with him in my thoughts, deeply wanting to know more about him.

  *

  I stood in the hallway with the broken bathroom. The sconces on the walls burned with weak light, casting flickering shadows along the faded green wall paper. Several doors lined the hallway on either side, six on the left, and six on the right. I stood still, already afraid.

  Rusty metal squeaked in the hushed silence. My eyes snapped up. Darrow was leaning against the broken sink, the powerful muscles in his arm flexing as he turned the water on. Water surged from the faucet, running over the broken sink and spilling onto the floor. The water gushed forward, an impossibly large amount for such a small faucet. It rushed towards me. The ceiling opened, releasing a torrent of rain. It dripped down the walls and onto the carpet, contributing to the swell of water that churned on the floor. I pressed my back against the wall, shivering. My hair and clothes were soaked, frigid rain streaming down my face.

  The six doors slowly opened on their own accord, the door frames filled with thick darkness.

  “Come here,” Darrow demanded.

  I pressed my back harder into the wall. Not only did I not want to get closer to Darrow, I did not want to walk past the twelve gaping holes that now existed in the hallway.

  “If you do not come to me, I will come to you.” He tilted his head to the side.

  Knowing that he would hurt me if I did not comply, I reluctantly pushed off the wall and walked forward. The water was now several inches deep, well above my ankles. I trudged through it as the rain from the ceiling continued. Fear tickled my spine as I passed by the open doorways. I sensed something evil huddled within the dark. Sudden motion caught my eye. I squinted, examining the last doorway. I was able to make out the outline of a man. A man with black wings.

  I gasped and whipped around, putting my back to Darrow. I looked down the length of the hallway. A winged figure stood in each doorway.

  Darrow pressed against me, his mouth close to my ear. “They are determined—but so am I.”

  “The Warriors of The Guild,” I whispered.

  He laughed softly, “Careful. The things inside my mind will swallow you whole.” His hand laced around my neck, his lips trailing along my cheek, “The Warriors underestimate how badly I want you. I will take you by force. You will be mine very soon, and this world will be plunged into darkness.”

  *

  My eyes opened. I stared at the ceiling as a wave of anxiety crashed mercilessly over me. Darrow was coming for me. Soon. My alarm clock started blaring. I yanked the comforter off in a violent rush, grabbed my alarm clock and threw it across the room. It collided against the wall with a crunch and fell to the floor, silent.

  I sat up and pressed my back against the headboard. It wasn’t hard to piece together the meaning of this dream. Darrow must have gone off to recruit others like him. That’s why he had not appeared since that day in the gardens. He had been a busy, evil little bee. From what I gathered, I could be expecting Darrow plus twelve others to take me by force. I didn’t have to guess when. I could feel it. Two days, maybe three. Panic gripped my chest.

  Calm down Sloan, just breathe. Before I had a chance to inhale, pain erupted beneath my skin. I screamed as it exploded on the left side of my body, racing down to my knee. It felt as if I was being stabbed repeatedly with a hot knife, and it was being dragged down my side, ripping my flesh. I tried to stand but couldn’t. I fell helplessly to the floor as the pain held me in its grip.

  I screamed again and again, writhing.

  “God, please make it stop! Make it stop!” Tears streamed down my face. I gulped for air. A cold sweat broke across my skin and I began to shake uncontrollably. I screamed and cried for what felt like an eternity, not knowing how much more I could take.

  A guttural sound escaped my throat as the pain increased in a viscous blaze, shooting all the way down to my toes. The entire left side of my body burned. Invisible flames ate away at me, from my temple to my foot. It was torture. Stars began blossoming at the corner of my vision. I was going to pass out. And then, just as my vision began to waver, the pain dulled. It gradually eased back to a bearable level.

  I lay deathly still, breathing shallowly, my heart a wild drum inside my chest. All energy had been leached from my body. I couldn’t move and didn’t want to try. Hardly formed thoughts drifted across my mind, like thin clouds. I distantly thought there was something I needed to be doing but was unable to bring it to the forefront of my mind.

  I stayed where I was on the floor—unmoving—unsure of how much time had passed. My cell phone rang several times. Notification dings went off. It barely registered in my mind. Several times, I almost fell asleep. But I wouldn’t allow myself to enter the antechamber. I managed to stay awake in a listless consciousness.

  The light in the room changed, becoming brighter and then dim. Rain began to fall, the droplets plinking noisily on the roof. My mouth was dry, and my stomach rumbled. I ignored both for as long as I could, but eventually I couldn’t continue to ignore certain bodily needs. I got up slowly and shakily, placing my hand on the wall for balance. I used the bathroom first. Then I went into the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. My throat was raw. I winced as the cool liquid went down. I ate a banana mechanically, a robot needing fuel. That was all I could manage.

  I went back into my bedroom, grabbed my cell phone and sat on the bed indian-style. Since my alarm clock was now smashed and lying on the floor, I glanced at my cell to check the time. It was five in the afternoon.

  I scanned the missed calls, feeling detached as I did so. There were several, as well as a few voicemails and a text message from James. I read his text: I haven’t heard from you. I want to make sure you are okay. Call me please.

  I set the phone down on the blanket and then stretched out, putting an arm over my eyes. There is a very good chance you will not survive this. Up until this point, I had tried very hard not to indulge thoughts of death. It had b
een circling my mind, but I never wanted to really consider that it was a possibility. Now, with Darrow and his small army coming for me, reality was sinking in. In a matter of days my life would end at the hands of a terrifying being.

  Slow warm tears leaked from my eyes and fell down my cheeks. Who are the Warriors of the Guild? At this point, did it even matter? Nothing matters. Darrow would torture me first, before he did anything else. Of that I felt sure. My death would not be quick.

  I felt so fucking helpless. Alone. Afraid. I left California for a fresh start. It was all so goddamn ironic. Leaving violence and pain, only to walk into a situation even worse that would lead to suffering and death. I cried harder.

  Eventually, there were no tears left to shed. I lay quietly, staring at the ceiling, my head hurting like hell. Numbness filled the empty spaces inside. I finally got up, grabbed my phone, and made my way to the kitchen.

  I made coffee. The smell jarred me out of my stupor. I watched the brown liquid filling the glass coffee pot and then drank it black while I leaned against the kitchen counter. Something inside me hardened. When Darrow came for me I would fight, for as long as possible. I did not have control over any of this. But I could control how I died, and it would not be as a victim huddled in the corner.

  With that resolution, I picked up my phone and responded to James first: I will call you later. I’m fine.

  I really wanted to see him, but was that a good idea? What if Darrow came for me while I was with James? I would be putting him in danger. Unsure what to do, I tucked it away to think about later and continued scanning my cell. Penny had called many times. I smirked.

  I had imagined quitting so many times but in an epic way, like Tom Cruise in Jerry McGuire. I shrugged. No-call, no-show would suffice.

  Millie left a voicemail. I didn’t listen to it, only because I wanted to speak to her in person. I needed to fix things with her. I chewed on my bottom lip, indecisive. The same danger applied. Going to see her would put her at risk. But what’s my other option? Isolate myself for days until Darrow shows up? Never apologize to her? She had shown me so much kindness and had offered me a real friendship. I needed her to know how much it meant to me, and that I cared about her.

  Knowing that it was a reckless, I took a quick shower and threw on some black skinny jeans, white argyle knit UGGs, and a dark blue hoodie. My hair went into another messy bun and I didn’t bother with makeup. I grabbed my purse and ran to my Jeep through the rain. It was Wednesday night and Millie would be in art class. If I hurried, I could catch her before lecture began.

  I had to make things right.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  APOLOGIES

  I drove, looking at the world around me but unable to see it. It was no longer my reality. I had slipped into another dimension, one that was as surreal as it was terrifying.

  Would my mother feel regret when I died? Would she attend my funeral sober or fucked up on drugs? Most likely the latter. I could see my father sitting beside her dressed in an impeccable Armani suit. His expression stoic as always, his dark eyes indifferent, determined that her addiction did not exist.

  I was a perfect mixture of them, their little carbon copy. I had my father’s jet-black hair and shapely lips. My mother’s fair skin, light eyes, and her European bone structure. People often comment on my appearance. But when I look in the mirror, all I see is them; the two people in this world that were supposed to love me but did not. They both loved other things far more. Destructive things. Material things. And god, they threw me away so easily, as if I were nothing.

  I punched the steering wheel. I could not think about my parents right now, it was too much. I folded them up, into a ball of unwanted feelings, and shoved them back into the internal abyss where they belonged.

  I circled the parking lot at the university and cursed under my breath. All the spots were filled. I finally found one, but it was far from the Arts and Sciences building. I jogged across the parking lot through the rain, hoping I would make it before class began.

  I hurried to the third floor, tracking water through the hallway. Professor Imperial’s door was already closed. I peeked through the small window. Professor Imperial sat on a stool to the right of the room grading a student who presented their painting. I spotted Millie. She sat towards the back, her wrapped painting resting against her chair. A lightbulb went off over my head. The project was due today. I had completely forgotten.

  I opened the door and walked in quietly. Professor Imperial noticed and gave me a confused—or maybe disapproving—look, but quickly turned his attention back to the student who was presenting. A few students glanced my way briefly then returned their focus to the front of the room. I walked over to Millie.

  “I need to talk to you,” I whispered.

  She gave me a serious look and then nodded. Millie stood and held up a finger to the professor. He nodded, and we made our way out of the classroom and into the empty hallway.

  Without a word, I hugged her. Millie stood still for a few moments and then finally unfolded her arms and hugged me back.

  “Millie…I’m so sorry,” I said.

  She pulled away. “Sloan, what’s going on?”

  I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “There is so much I should have told you, but I was too afraid to.”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about? Do you mean what happened on Saturday?”

  “That and other things. Like where I come from, why I left—the reason I never talk about my parents.”

  “You’re a private person,” she responded. “I respect that. But I feel like there is something more going on with you.”

  I looked her squarely in the eyes. “There is.”

  “That day in the gardens. Someone hurt you…didn’t they?”

  I nodded.

  She exhaled. “Jesus Sloan. This whole thing is so bizarre. I saw something on the news. The koi pond was practically destroyed. The exact spot that you were in. Look, I’m sorry that I pressed you outside of your house on Saturday. But, someone hurt you. Why wouldn’t you trust me with something like that?”

  I looked away for a second and exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry for not being straight with you. And you are right. This whole thing is bizarre. I didn’t slip into the pond. But I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I am still trying to process what happened,” I answered.

  She digested that for a moment, her brown eyes concerned. “Okay…I mean, is this person still bothering you? Are you safe?”

  “Yes, I’m safe.” For now.

  “Well, why didn’t you just tell me that to begin with? You could have stayed with us for a few days. Wine and cheesy movies…takeout. I could have helped somehow.”

  “Because I have a bad habit of keeping things to myself. It’s not personal,” I said. “I have been on my own for a long time. It’s hard for me to let people in.”

  “I understand. I mean…after my mom died, I created a ten-foot wall around myself.”

  “That’s hard to imagine,” I said.

  “Why?” asked Millie.

  “Because you are one of the most open people I have ever met.”

  “I loved my mom…so much Sloan. And I miss her. But her death taught me never to take a moment for granted. It takes time to heal but don’t let life pass you by in the meantime. Keeping walls up…it’s not worth it. Your situation is different, I know that. Its acute and raw. I understand why you wouldn’t want to talk about it. Which is why I have never asked you for more information. But, you don’t have to shoulder the burden alone.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. “When did you b
ecome so wise?”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” said Millie. “I’m like a fifty-year-old woman trapped in a twenty-one-year old’s body.”

  “I really would like to tell you about it at some point. When you aren’t about to give an art presentation,” I said.

  She smiled. “I would love to listen. Just tell me when and where.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you staying for class? Where is your painting?” Millie asked.

  I cleared the lump from my throat. “Uh, I left it at home. I don’t think I will stay today, but, Imperial gave me an extension.”

  She nodded. “Alright…well, you are definitely still coming to the party on Friday, right?”

  Shit. Donovan’s birthday party was Friday night. I hadn’t thought about it in days. Not wanting to upset her, I promised to be there.

  “Awesome. Be sure to dress up! Something good too, you can’t just buy a pair of vampire fangs and call it a day. I have to go back into class, but I will see you Friday.” She gave me a quick hug. “If something else comes up, either with the day in the garden or…whatever, will you call me, please?”

  I nodded.

  Millie gave me another smile and a little wave, and then disappeared into the classroom. The hallway was silent and empty. It gave me the creeps, so I quickly made my way back to the parking lot. Of course, it was still raining, and I got soaked yet again.

  I sat in my Jeep for quite some time, trying to decide what to do. I wanted to see James but was still concerned with the possibility of endangering him. Although, my conversation with Millie had gone fine—Darrow had not come crashing through one of the hallway windows.