Imaginary Friend

by Stephen Chbosky

  It was Mrs. Collins.

  She lay perfectly still. Her eyes closed. The ventilator moved up and down for her lungs, rattling like the ball inside a can of spray paint.

  Hsssssss.

  Christopher wanted to run. Get to the closet. Get his clothes. Get out of here. But there was the clip on his finger. If the clip came off, the nurses would come running in. There was only one way to fool them.

  He had to put the clip on Mrs. Collins’ finger.

  Christopher slowly ripped away the blood pressure Velcro strangling his arm. Then, he tiptoed to her bed. He heard voices right outside the door. He only had a few seconds. He spread out her fingers and put the index on top, big like a cherry. All he had to do was unclip and reclip. But it had to be done instantly. He took a big breath. This was it. His only chance. He grabbed the clip from his finger, his heart beating like crazy.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Christopher snapped it back on Mrs. Collins’ index finger.

  Beep. Beep.

  Hssssss.

  The voices outside were getting louder. Christopher put the white curtain back around his bed and moved to the closet. But not before snatching Mrs. Collins’ cell phone from her nightstand. Half a charge left. No bars. No service. He quickly stripped off the hospital gown and put on his clothes. The phone went into his pocket along with the key.

  The door to the room opened.

  “Christopher? Are you awake?”

  Christopher looked through the crack in the closet door. He saw Nurse Tammy walk into the room with a tray of food. She moved over to his bed and gently rolled the white curtain back. She saw the pillow under the blanket. It must have looked very convincing. She took the tray of food and carefully set it down.

  “I just talked to my dad, Christopher. A deer frightened him in the backyard, and he dropped the bottle of merLOT. It broke, and the state store is closed. Now he’ll never have his Christmas merLOT. He worked night shifts to put me through school and you took his favorite thing.”

  Nurse Tammy pulled out a scalpel from her pocket.

  “I could have bought him more merLOT, but I had to work a triple. You made everyone sick. You made me miss Christmas. I have to stay here because of you.”

  Nurse Tammy brought the scalpel down and violently stabbed the sheets. When she didn’t see any blood, she ripped them off. She found the pillow in place of the boy. She turned and whispered.

  “Christopherrrr, where are youuu?”

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Hssssss.

  Christopher turned to Mrs. Collins in the bed. Her eyes were wide open now, staring at him through the crack in the closet. The wet paint rattling inside her lungs.

  “Iiiiiiiizzzzzzz,” she groaned, trying to push the word “Christopher” through the breathing tube.

  “What is it, Mrs. Collins?” Nurse Tammy asked.

  Nurse Tammy rushed to her bedside. With her back turned, Christopher crawled out of the closet door and silently moved to the hallway.

  The hallway was empty.

  But he knew it was only temporary.

  He could feel the people in bed.

  Waking up for the hunt.

  The ICU doors began to open. Christopher saw Mr. Henderson sit up in bed and point right at him. He screamed to alert the others, but no sound came out. He put his hands to his throat. The place where his wife stabbed him. He began pushing over the machines and equipment to wake up the floor.

  There was no time to lose. Christopher ran to the supply closet at the end of the hall. He quickly shut the door behind him just as the people in the hallways spilled into the ICU. He turned around and looked at the room, expecting to find it empty. But there was a big black shape in the middle of the floor. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

  A body bag.

  It inflated and deflated like a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Someone was inside it. Breathing. Christopher was trapped. He couldn’t leave the room. The hallway was swimming with people.

  “He’s around here somewhere, Doctor,” Nurse Tammy said.

  Christopher needed to hide. He knew they would check the closet. There was only one place left. He walked over to the body bag. He moved his hand over the plastic and slowly opened the zipper. Heat rose from the figure inside. Christopher saw small pools of blood on the hospital gown and a five-day beard.

  The sheriff.

  He looked pale. Dead asleep. Barely breathing. Christopher touched his hand. The itch fluttered on his skin.

  “Wake up,” Christopher whispered.

  The sheriff did not stir.

  “What’s in this room?” Nurse Tammy asked.

  The footsteps came closer. They were right outside the door. There was nowhere to go but in. Christopher opened the bag and climbed inside next to the sheriff, zipping it up behind him. He could feel the sheriff’s heartbeat. His shallow breathing.

  “Please wake up, Sheriff,” he whispered.

  The door opened. Someone walked into the room.

  “Is he in here?” a voice said.

  “No, Doctor,” Nurse Tammy said.

  “Okay. Let’s keep looking.”

  The footsteps walked out of the room and closed the door. Christopher was about to open up the bag when he realized he could still hear breathing.

  They were still in the room.

  After a long moment of silence, a man groaned through a sliced throat.

  “You’re right, Mr. Henderson. That body bag is moving,” Nurse Tammy said.

  The footsteps got closer.

  “Hi, Christopher. Are you in there?”

  Christopher did not breathe. He felt the body bag being lifted.

  “That’s heavy. The sheriff must have put on fifty pounds in the last hour.”

  Christopher felt the bag laid down on a hard table. The table began to move. They were on a gurney. Being wheeled to God knows where.

  Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

  “Come on, everyone. Let’s bring Christopher to the rest of them,” Nurse Tammy said.

  Christopher heard someone hit the button on the ICU wall. The security door opened. A murmur ran through the hallway. Christopher grabbed the sheriff’s hand and focused his mind. The fever broke out on his forehead. He let the heat from his own body move to the sheriff. Healing the wounds. Giving color to pale skin.

  Wake up, Sheriff.

  The gurney went into the elevator.

  “Could you hit the button for the basement, please, Mr. Henderson?”

  Mr. Henderson groaned through his sliced vocal cords. The elevator beeped and started moving down.

  Please! They’re going to kill us!

  The gurney stopped with a squeak.

  “We’re here, everyone,” Nurse Tammy announced.

  A hand reached down and unzipped the body bag. The cool air hit Christopher’s lungs. He saw instruments. Metal tables. And drawers so big the wall looked like a massive filing cabinet.

  He was in the morgue.

  Chapter 107

  Christopher’s mother stood in her son’s bedroom. She stared at David Olson’s bookshelf and the little boy’s terrified scrawl.

  DO NOT KILL

  THE HISSING LADY

  SHE IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING

  THE DEVIL IN HELL

  She felt a prickle on her neck. An electricity running through the house. The hair on her arms stood up as if someone rubbed a balloon against an invisible sweater.

  hI, kate. Remember him?

  She turned to the photograph of her late husband. Lifeless in the silver frame. Her husband stared back at her. That same smile. The same pose. Frozen in time.

  But something had changed.

  His flannel shirt was getting wet.

  His wrists were turning red.

  He began to walk toward her.

  I have your husband, Kate.

  Her husband’s smile never left his face. He moved toward the glass of the frame. Getting bigger inside the picture. Reaching h
is arms out. Banging on the glass. Desperate. Let me out! Let me out!

  I have your son, too.

  Christopher’s mother ran out of the room. Down the stairs. She had to fight the voice. She had to get to Christopher. She passed the photographs on the stairs.

  You let all of your men die.

  In every photograph, her husband was walking right at her. Bringing his hand up to the glass of the frame. Ready to knock. His wrists slashed. The blood streaking down the glass from the inside.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Christopher’s mother stopped. Someone was on her porch. She saw her husband in the photographs. He banged on the glass just as she heard a bang on the front door.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Ding dong.

  Christopher’s mother tiptoed away from the door. She had to get out of here. She had to get to Christopher. The doorknob turned. Stopped by the lock. She backed away into the living room. Never taking her eyes from the front door.

  Until she walked straight into a body.

  She spun around. She saw him. Standing with a gun.

  “Hi, Kate,” Jerry said.

  Chapter 108

  The boys were surrounded.

  Matt looked down at the clearing and saw Mrs. Henderson on the ground. His lazy eye began to burn as if his doctor had just put drops in it. The same lazy eye that Christopher had healed. Through it, he could see the shadow of a man moving through the clearing from person to person. Whispering.

  The flock’s random movements began to unify. The people hanging from the sagging branches freed their necks from the nooses. They dropped to the ground like acorns and gathered around Mrs. Henderson, who lay on the ground with a deep gash in the middle of her forehead left by Special Ed’s bullet.

  “Jesus. She’s still alive,” Mike said.

  “That’s impossible,” Special Ed said, moving to the window.

  The boys watched in silence as the town picked her up gently. Mrs. Henderson nodded her thanks to the mailbox people. Then, she put a loving hand on the shoulders closest to her and pulled the thread from her lips as if unraveling a sweater. She spoke calmly.

  “Kill Christopher and bring him back to the tree,” she said.

  Half of the flock began to run silently through the woods. The other half stayed, waiting for her next command. Mrs. Henderson snipped the thread from Doug and Debbie Dunham’s lips.

  “Go to Mary Katherine. She is laughing at you both. Make her stop.”

  The two teenagers nodded and ran back through the woods. Mrs. Henderson put down the knife. She took a little needle and thread from her sewing kit. She looked up at the tree house, staring at Special Ed while she stitched the bullet wound he left in her forehead like a thumbprint on Ash Wednesday.

  Then, Mrs. Henderson led the charge up the ladder.

  “Oh, my God,” Matt said.

  Special Ed checked his gun. Five shots in the cylinder. Two hundred rounds in his backpack. He threw open the door and pointed his gun down. Like a deranged video game, dozens of people were climbing the ladder, with hundreds waiting to take their place. Special Ed shot. Slowing the tide. Bodies fell backward. But no one would die. No one would stop.

  Matt watched the madness, his lazy eye burning. He could see the shadow man everywhere. Whispering to people. His shadow transforming into a warm kitchen. A hotel room. A dream house. The boy who finally loved them back. The girl who finally said yes. The long-lost father. The prodigal son. Whispering. All they had to do was open the door. Take the tree house. Hurt those three little kids blocking their way, and then, they could be happy.

  Forever.

  “We’re never going to have enough ammunition,” Special Ed said.

  Matt looked down. Eddie was right. Two hundred rounds would come and go, but the bad guys would keep coming. Mike grabbed the hammer and started to climb down.

  “Cover me,” he said to Special Ed.

  “No, Mike!” Matt screamed.

  “They can’t climb if there isn’t a ladder. I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

  Mike moved quickly down ten steps. The clearing went wild beneath him. Mike swung the hammer, knocking the first 2x4 loose. Matt took the gun out of Special Ed’s hand. He waited until the first mailbox person reached out for Mike’s leg.

  Then, he shot.

  The mailbox person fell, taking down people like dominoes. Mike threw the 2x4 up to the tree house for Special Ed to catch. Then, Mike climbed up another step, prying each 2x4 loose. Throwing them up. Taking the ladder up with him.

  “Knock him off the tree!” Mrs. Henderson shouted.

  The people in the clearing threw rocks. Stones. Whatever they could find. The debris hit Mike, but nothing could stop him. He took another step. And another. He reached the last 2x4. The last step. There was a good twelve feet under him. Nobody could reach the tree house from there. They could wait for Christopher to bring help. They could wait for the sheriff. They had won.

  Until Brady pulled out his gun.

  Matt watched in horror as the shadow man twisted himself around Brady like a tree root.

  “That’s it, Brady,” the voice whispered. “Come in from the doghouse.”

  Brady lifted the gun as Mike dislodged the last 2x4.

  “Get that boy out of our kitchen.”

  Mike handed his little brother the hammer.

  “You never have to be cold again.”

  Brady Collins shot.

  *

  tHe nIce Man smiled as the clearing began their little fight to the death for the tree house. hE watched the bullet hit mike’s shoulder. hE watched mike fall. and mrs. henderson stalk over with her needle and thread. hE whispered to Matt that his brother could still be saved. hE watched Matt lower the secret rope ladder and climb down into the fog. hE watched matt’s expression when he saw his brother had turned into a mailbox person, running at him with the needle and thread. a minute later, hE watched as special ed heard screams in the distance.

  eddie.

  “Matt? Is that you?”

  yes. send down the ladder.

  “What’s the password?”

  chocolate milk.

  hE watched special ed lower the ladder. the ropes tighten. the hands climbing out of the darkness. the expression on special ed’s face when he saw it wasn’t matt.

  it was brady collins.

  tHe nIce Man smiled at the two dogs growling at an invisible whistle. soon, hE would have them chasing each other through the woods. guns drawn. just two little boys playing war. it was so easy to make men kill each other over territory that only time could truly own. so easy to make them all think they were the good guys.

  with that, the tree house was left empty and unguarded. just as hE needed it to be. hE could not go to earth. noT with the hissing lady still alive. but the portal was opeN.

  all hE needed now was christopher.

  and that key he kept in his pocket.

  hE just needed to take care of some other people first.

  Chapter 109

  Jesus, help me.”

  Mary Katherine was on her knees looking up at the only window in her padded cell. The white cotton nightgown left her feet cold. She was in the hospital.

  No, you’re in the mental hospital.

  Mary Katherine shook off the voice, which had been there like a virus ever since her parents let the doctors drag her to the psychiatric ward. The doctors gave her a sedative, and when she woke up, she was inside this padded room. Ten by ten. With a single window. And white walls. She was starving.

  Because you’re pregnant. Your parents didn’t believe you.

  They left you here, Mary Katherine.

  Mary Katherine called out for someone to give her food and water. The baby was famished inside her. Kicking the walls of her stomach. But no one called back. No nurse came. No doctor. No parents. She was alone.

  “Jesus, please help me.”

  Mary Katherine stared at the blue moon shining through the window. T
hen, she stood on her tiptoes and looked out across the town. There were fires on the horizon. Buildings burned.

  Something terrible was happening.

  Yes, your parents put you in an asylum, and you’re never getting out.

  Mary Katherine tried to breathe through the panic. She reminded herself that “asylum” meant something else. It meant safety. She had much better conditions than the Virgin Mary had in a barn two thousand years ago, right? She could be grateful for that, right? Jesus helped her there, right? He loved her, right? Just calm down, Mary Katherine. Calm down. You’re in a safe room.

  Do you feel safe?

  Mary Katherine heard footsteps down the hallway.

  “Hello?” she said.

  She waited for a response. None came. The footsteps got louder.

  “Hello? Who is that?” she yelled out.

  The person stopped right outside the thick padded door. Mary Katherine looked at the doorknob. Turning. She thought it must be the doctor. The nurse with another shot for her arm. She wanted to scream. The door opened.

  It was her mother.

  Mary Katherine burst into tears. She ran to her mother, hugging her. In her mind, she said everything perfectly.

  “I need to eat, Mom. The baby is so hungry. But I swear I never had sex. I don’t know how I got pregnant. Thank you for coming for me. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for still loving me.”

  But the words came out completely unintelligible in between sobs and snot. To her mother, she must have sounded crazy because she held her like the cold side of the pillow.

  “We have to go now, Mary Katherine,” she said sadly.

  Mary Katherine finally found her breath enough to speak clearly.

  “Where are we going, Mom?” she asked.

  “To church. It’s time.”

  Chapter 110

  Jerry stepped into the light. A bottle in one hand. A gun in the other.

  “Why did you run away from me?” he said.

  Kate backed away from him. Jerry finished the last swallow of whiskey and carefully put the bottle on the counter.