Insomnia (The Night Walkers)

by Johansson, J. R.

  The wide window beside the front door of the clinic still had a few fake spider webs and miniature dancing skeletons decorating the corners, even though Halloween was more than a week ago. But at least it gave us a clear view of the reception desk and waiting area. From what we’d seen, there was no receptionist, just a heavy older man with a thin silver mustache and wire-rimmed glasses who opened the door for Mia when she arrived. His bald head shone in the fading sunlight, and he had a band of salt-and-pepper hair just above his ears. He always led her through a door to the right side. He was the only person we ever saw at the office. It was an easy bet that he was Dr. Freeburg.

  Movement inside caught my attention and I watched Mia walk out the door with the therapist just behind her. They talked for a minute in the doorway. His hand rested on her shoulder, but as she spoke he slid it back and forth on her arm in a way that made me uncomfortable. He often stood a little too close to her in the first place, but this contact was just … something was up with this guy. Mia smiled and laughed, oblivious, but the way he was watching her reminded me of a fat guy hanging out at an endless dessert bar.

  Finn yawned. “I don’t know what hypnotherapy is, ex-actly, but this guy has to be doing something right.”

  “Yeah, she definitely seems better after every appointment.”

  “It’s good. That first time, when she came out sobbing?” Finn frowned and shook his head. “There’s just something about girls crying, man. I’m not a fan.”

  “Still, I think we need to put him on the list.” I picked up the paper and scribbled in his name. It had a grand total of six suspects now: Thor, Jeff, Chad, Mr. Sparks, Matt (who we added after he took Mia out to a movie last week), and Dr. Freeburg.

  Six—and none of them really seemed like an obviously threatening stalker type. If this were a game of Clue, we’d be getting our butts kicked.

  “Oh, yeah. Definitely. He should get his own freaky list if you ask me.”

  Finn turned my car on and pulled into traffic, a few car-lengths behind Mia’s truck.

  “Agreed.”

  I propped my elbow up on the door and turned to Finn. Something had been bothering me, but I’d hoped we’d find answers fast so I wouldn’t have to bring it up. That didn’t seem to be happening, though. “Mia really seems sure I’m the one sending the e-mails.”

  “Well, you were acting pretty creeptastic for a while there.” Finn didn’t even take his eyes off the road.

  “I know.” I watched her purple pickup a few cars ahead and frowned. “But what if there’s more to it than that?”

  Now Finn glanced over at me. “Like?”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “It just seems like she knows it. Maybe it says something in the e-mail?”

  “Why would someone want to make it sound like it was you?”

  “Exactly what I’ve been wondering.” Turning away, I rested my forehead against the window. “And more importantly, who would want to do that to me?”

  Finn didn’t respond, but when I looked over, I saw him tugging on his ear. He was thinking it over. That was all I could ask.

  We followed Mia until she pulled into her subdivision, just to make sure she was heading home. Finn glanced at me and drove into a nearby driveway to turn the car around. I rubbed my eyes against the light of the setting sun. It felt so good to close them, so necessary. Two weeks had passed since Mia’s first nightmare and there hadn’t been even a hint of her peaceful dreams since. I craved them, both mentally and physically.

  “You look beat, man. Want me to drive you home and keep your car tonight?” Before I could answer, he added, “I’ll pick you up before school tomorrow.”

  “No, that’s all right. Just drive to your house.” I opened my eyes all the way and tried to look awake. “I can get myself home.”

  Finn looked doubtful, but he put the car in gear anyway.

  I’d driven half of the way between Finn’s house and mine before I recognized the black motorcycle behind me. In the glare of a streetlight I saw that same patch on his jacket. Blind Skull.

  After all the time I’d spent following Mia, I knew how it was done. I wanted to be sure he was really following me and it wasn’t just a coincidence, so I took a couple of sudden turns, and when he was still behind me, pulled into a nearby grocery store. I sat in the car until I saw him park a few stalls back and three rows over.

  Who was this guy? What did he want with me? As much as I might deserve to be stalked after what I’d done to Mia, I was too tired to put up with this anymore.

  I got out of the car, but instead of heading for the store entrance, I turned and walked directly toward him. He was quick, obviously watching me. Before I even made it past the first row of cars, he revved the engine and sped toward the exit.

  Dad’s voice echoed in my head. “The blind skull sees more than you think.”

  I stood for a moment, watching his taillight as he raced off into the dark. I couldn’t help but wonder … what, exactly, did he see?

  When I got back to the car, I added Blind Skull to the bottom of our suspect list.

  If I didn’t hurry, I was going to be late … again.

  Grabbing a bagel from the half-empty bag on the counter, I pulled my backpack over my shoulder and was almost out the door before my mom’s voice stopped me.

  “Parker, wait.” She was sitting in the corner of the living room in the dark. Weird. I’d thought she’d already left.

  This didn’t look good.

  “I’m going to be late.”

  “You’re going to talk to me.” Mom reached up and flipp-ed on a lamp on the table beside her. “And you’re not leaving until you do.”

  My backpack slipped off my shoulder when I saw her. She was still in her robe and slippers and her eyes were swollen and puffy.

  Mom—dreams of losing my dad … and me.

  “What’s wrong?” My muscles felt leaden. I couldn’t move. “Is it Dad?”

  Her brow furrowed in confusion and she shook her head. “No.” Her voice was stiff, distant.

  I released the breath I’d been holding. I was a fool. He wasn’t coming back. He was never coming back. “Then what’s wrong?”

  “Where were you last night?”

  I shook my head. “What are you talking about? I was here.”

  “Stop lying!” She was on her feet in an instant. “I checked on you at four this morning and you were gone. Where were you, Parker? Where?”

  Her one repeated word was like a lighthouse, slicing through the fog of my reasoning—my justifications. It shone like a high beam, vividly displaying the monster I’d become.

  A memory of me, sitting in Mia’s tree outside her window, hit my brain like a semi truck. The air caught in my chest and it took me a minute to breathe. It hadn’t felt like a dream because it was no dream. I’d been sitting outside her window, watching her. I had no memory of going there, no memory of climbing the tree, and no memory of coming home.

  That wasn’t last night though, I reminded myself. Where had I been last night? And then there was the morning my window was open—had I snuck out that night as well? I closed my eyes and focused on keeping myself upright, on keeping my lungs breathing in and out as my brain flew into a state of total panic. What was happening to me? My life had become like watching myself in someone else’s dream.

  I’d lost control of everything—school, soccer, sleep, my whole life. Even my mind had started betraying me.

  “Please tell me where my sixteen-year-old son needs to be at four in the morning, Parker, because I’ve been sitting here since then trying to figure it out.” Her fists were balled up and she was walking back and forth between me and the chair. Even after Dad left, I’d never seen her this angry.

  “Did you see me come back?” I asked, surprised at how calm my voice sounded. My mind scrambled for answers as I tried t
o keep from curling into the fetal position on the floor. Where had I been? The truth was simple and horrifying. I had no idea.

  “No. When I came to check again, you were asleep. You must’ve come back in through your window.” Tears rolled down her face, but she didn’t seem any less furious.

  “I just … ” I crossed my arms, searching for an answer. Any answer but the one that I now knew was true. I could’ve been anywhere, doing anything …

  To anyone.

  “Don’t think that gets you out of anything. I don’t care if you weren’t gone long. You don’t sneak out in the middle of the night!”

  “I just went for a walk, Mom. Relax.”

  Didn’t she realize this wasn’t helping? How was I supposed to panic about where I’d been when she kept freaking out?

  She sighed and walked up to me until she was nearly standing on my toes. When she spoke, her voice was so soft and full of pain it felt like an icicle in my heart. “Do I really look that stupid?” Reaching out, she took my hand. “Parker, I know there is something going on. Something is wrong and I want to help you, but I can’t if you won’t talk to me. I don’t understand what’s happening. All I’m asking for is a little honesty. I promise I won’t be mad.”

  It wasn’t her anger that I was afraid of. She couldn’t know the truth about me. She’d be so disappointed that I’d gotten so out of control. I couldn’t be just one more person who let her down, one more burden. I’d fix this and handle it on my own.

  “Mom, school is just stressing me out. I had to clear my head or I wasn’t going to be able to sleep.” I tried not to cringe.

  “Have you even tried the sleeping pills Dr. Brown gave you?”

  “They don’t help, Mom.” I kicked my toe against the carpet. “But it doesn’t matter, everything is okay.”

  “No, it’s not, honey. I know it’s not.” She gripped my arm and pulled me down closer. “I mean, if it’s illegal—”

  “Seriously? This again?” Jerking out of her grasp, I backed away. I couldn’t deal with this, not now. “For the millionth time, I’m clean. Although I might as well start taking something if you’re going to accuse me of it anyway.”

  “Parker, you need help,” Mom yelled as I started to walk out of the house.

  “No, Mom. Not from you I don’t.” I slammed the door behind me and left before I could hear her yelling or crying anymore.

  I only drove a block before I pulled over and got out of the car. I was shaking, my world crumbling. The car was too small, the space around me so tight and confined. I had to breathe real air—fresh air.

  I fell on my knees in the dirt behind someone’s dried-up rosebush, two blocks from my house, and tried to understand how I’d somehow become a Watcher of my own life.

  That night, I stared at my own eyes in the mirror on my dresser. Maybe if I looked hard enough I could see who I really was. I could almost see both sides now, the dark and the light, in constant battle. And I couldn’t go back to what I’d been before.

  Parker—dreams … doesn’t dream, only lives at the ex-pense of others.

  What kind of creep sits in a tree watching a girl through her bedroom window? What was I becoming?

  With shaking hands, I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the crumpled paper and a pen from the front pocket. As I touched my pen to the paper, my phone started vibrating on the table next to my bed. I picked it up and silenced it without even looking to see who was calling. I knew it was Finn and Addie, and I knew what they wanted.

  I’d avoided them as much as possible at school today, but that couldn’t last long. I had to accept the fact that if I didn’t know what I was doing, if I was losing that much control, then I had no idea how dangerous I really was.

  And I could never, ever forgive myself if I hurt them.

  With a quick deep breath, I wrote my own name at the bottom of the suspect list. Every letter felt like a brand on my skin, like writing it out made it real. I stuffed the list into my bag, barely resisting the urge to erase my name and take it all back. All I could do was hope it wasn’t true.

  Glancing down at the dresser, I saw my dental floss sitting there. It bordered on ridiculous, that something so small and simple might be able to contain me. But if I tied my wrist to my bedpost, in the morning I would at least know if I’d gone somewhere or not. The floss wouldn’t lie to me the way my mind could. From now on, I would know if I stayed in bed at night. It sucked that I couldn’t trust myself anymore, but it was the only way to be sure.

  Addie and Finn continued helping me make eye contact even though they could tell I was hiding something from them. It shouldn’t have surprised me. They’d always been there when I needed them most.

  Mia’s beautiful dreams were still missing, but her nightmare continued to change for the better every night, and the pain dulled a little more. The beginning never changed; as long as it was a memory, it couldn’t. She cried in front of her burning house and I held her until she looked at me. It never altered.

  One night, Mia’s hand reached for me the moment we were in the hall at the school. When I grabbed it, she glanced at me in confusion a few times as we ran, but she never let go for the rest of the nightmare.

  The next night, when we got to the end of the hall, she clasped my hand tighter. When it came to the point where she usually called me a monster, she didn’t. Instead, she just bit her lip and cast a furtive glance in my direction. I murmured low in her ear, trying to convince her to fight back, to make the nightmare stop, but she gave a very slight shake of her head. Instead, she closed her eyes and tucked both hands into mine. The nightmare continued around us, but we refused to be a part of the terrible things her mind was doing to her.

  It’d made a difference in real life too. When Mia glanced my way at school, she looked more confused than scared. Addie said she still wouldn’t talk about me, but she didn’t freak out the way she used to. Maybe I could convince Mia to trust me—both in her dreams and in reality—even if I didn’t trust myself.

  Although, why should either of us believe in me when the time lapses kept getting worse? The floss I used to tie my wrist to the headboard was intact for the first two days I used it; then I woke up the third morning and found it ripped in half.

  The next night, I decided to try rope. It wasn’t nearly as easy to rip as the floss. I needed to be certain I wasn’t merely breaking it by thrashing around at night. Maybe I was just a wild sleeper. I kept hoping the most reasonable explanation would be the answer here. That it wasn’t what I feared. As I tried to relax my tense muscles, I kept telling myself it could be true. The rope would still be in place the next morning. I just wished I could make myself believe it.

  When I woke up, yawning, I smiled at the weight of the rope still around my wrist. But as I lifted up my arm, my blood turned to ice. Just below the knot, the rope had been cut. I held it close for a better look; it was a clean cut. It hadn’t been ripped apart or gnawed off.

  Getting to my feet, I searched my nightstand for anything sharp enough to slice the rope in two. I’d put my scissors in the office the night before. I checked under the bed, in my backpack. There was nothing else.

  I reached one hand under my mattress and it came to rest on cold metal. Swallowing, I pulled it out with one trembling hand. The dark-red box cutter still had the blade exposed. My breath caught in my throat. I dropped it on my bed and sat in my desk chair staring at it. I’d never seen it before. I didn’t even know we owned a box cutter.

  Wrapping my arms around my knees, I rocked back and forth, trying in vain to find any other explanation for it. Not the psychosis the doctor mentioned. Please, no. But I couldn’t trust my own mind.

  If I was inventive enough during my blackouts to do this, then it didn’t matter whether it was floss or a thick rope. Until I was ready to ask Thor to sit on me while I slept, I’d get out one way or another.

 
I grabbed the box cutter off the bed, retracted the blade, walked into the kitchen, and threw it in the garbage. My hands wouldn’t stop sweating. My pounding heartbeat made my head throb and I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the dining room window. Something inside kept telling me to ask Finn for help, but I wasn’t ready to tell anyone how much control I’d lost—not now, not yet. The thought of admitting it out loud scared me more than anything else.

  I switched back to floss when I ran out of rope, which happens surprisingly fast when you cut it up into one-inch pieces in your sleep. Sometimes I woke up with my wrist chafed, like I might’ve broken the floss by thrashing around. Other times my computer monitor was on, not on screensaver, in the middle of the night. Once my window was open again and the bottom of my bed was covered in snow and footprints. I had no way to know what I was doing during these times—who I was with, who I could be hurting. Even following the snowy footsteps through the yard didn’t give me any insight. Once they reached the shoveled sidewalk, I couldn’t track them anymore.

  By now, weeks had passed—Thanksgiving was coming up soon—and I was on the verge of giving up on ever finding a way to help Mia. But then her dream changed even more. After the fire at her house, she stopped crying earlier than usual. She didn’t glance up at me, and I knew why. For whatever reason, anytime she looked at me, the rest of the nightmare started.

  “Parker?” Mia’s voice sounded muffled against my chest. She was so full of conflicting emotions I felt guilty. My heartbeat raced. I’d never expected her to try to talk back.

  “Yeah?”

  “Which one are you?” It wasn’t hard to figure out what she was asking.

  “I’m not the monster, Mia.” I pulled her closer. Her hands gripped my shirt tight. They were shaking.