by Adam Smith
“You’ve come back,” Grandmother whispers, still searching for that invisible something. “I knew you’d come back, little one.”
“What?” I stumble back, bashing into the sink.
The old woman tenses when her sight lands right where Misa is standing, but then she blinks and mutters something under her breath that might be ‘nothing there’. Or maybe ‘crackerjacks’. She shakes her head and then, seeming to notice me for the first time, mutters, “Clumsy girl.”
“Gomennasai,” I say as I jump and get straight back to work washing the dishes, not stopping or looking away from the sink until I finish.
When I force myself to turn around, Grandmother’s gone. Misa, though, is still there, staring at me like a little kimono wearing statue. She looks just like a little sister waiting to see if the sister she adores is going to yell at her. I don’t try to pretend she’s not standing right there, looking up at me. I’m too tired to worry about being insane.
“I’m sorry,” Misa’s voice is filled with regret.
I don’t say anything, I just walk past her. If I’m going to have this conversation with her, I’m going to make sure we’re alone and that no one’s going to interrupt us. She follows after me like a scolded puppy.
“I can’t go out there.” She shouts when I move to open the front door.
I stop with my hand on the heavy bolt and look back at her. She just points at the door and shakes her head.
I turn and head for one of the many side rooms instead, hoping no one suddenly decides they want to use that room. Looking down the hall, just to check that no one is coming, I creep into the room. The first thing I notice is that all the furniture is neatly stacked against the far wall and yet the room still looks like a hurricane has been through it. I gather this is the furniture I got yelled at for rearranging.
“Misa,” I hiss once I know I’m alone.
“Rin.” Misa appears in front of me, making me jump.
“You’re the reason I keep getting yelled at,” I say through clenched teeth. “What did you do?”
Misa just stands there, eyes downcast and not saying a word. She looks like an innocent child. She has always looked like an innocent child. Always the same, never changing.
“What did you do?” I repeat, forcing my voice to remain calm. I definitely can’t yell or I might draw someone’s attention and they’ll ask why I’m yelling at an empty room.
“You were in trouble. I tried to go to you, but there’s ash on all the doors. I got angry and made a mess. I’m sorry, Rin.”
I shake my head trying to shake the image of those stairs and blurt out the first question that pops into my mind. “Why do you keep doing this?”
“I only wanted to protect you, Rin.”
“Then why do you keep moving things around? Stunts like that are only getting me in trouble.”
“You were in danger,” she says matter-of-fact. “I will not let anyone hurt you. No one will hurt you. Ever.”
The look of anger on her tiny face is almost cute until I remember the last time she tried to protect me. She’d kill to protect me. And there’s nothing I can do to stop her.
* * *
The loud clatter of some awful R&B remix rebounded throughout the hall as the dance floor packed with frenzying teenagers seethed in clumsy motion. The thumping bass of the music, if that’s what you’d call it, made the wooden floorboards rattle about like an uncoordinated earthquake. The few teachers that were mad enough to sign up to babysit the writhing horde of teens flitted in between the dancers, pushing apart any couple that looked to be getting too carried away with the music.
I stood watching the horde, waiting until a decent song could begin, when Damien leant over and whispered in my ear, “Do you want to get a drink?”
All I did was nod.
He took my hand, his firm grip leading me away from the dance floor. Staring at his back, I watched his muscly physique bulge and sway beneath his light blue shirt. His shaggy chocolate hair an unkempt mess sitting a top his head at first glance, but I think he styled it that way on purpose, and it totally suited him.
I expected him to take me over to the refreshment station, but instead he turned and led me outside. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere we can get a real drink.” He continued to lead me down the twisted halls and corridors that led to the classrooms. Away from everyone else.
A cold breeze whispered through the cement corridor surrounding us, sending a chill up my bare legs beneath the short dress I’d chosen to wear—a constant reminder of why I choose not to wear skirts very often. Soft giggling and talking drifted to my ears, telling me we weren’t alone out here.
“Hey, Henry,” Damien called out once the others were in sight. “Hook me up, already.”
At the bottom of the stairs a small group of figures were lounging around like it was some night club instead of a dark school corridor, two boys and one girl. I recognised the girl as my friend Rebecca, her red hair cascading in soft curls over her shoulders. I only knew one of the boys from when I’d been dragged along to all those football games, Henry, one of the smart aleck jocks, and Rebecca’s boyfriend. I have no idea what she saw in him. It was his idea for Damien to ask me to the dance.
Damien walked over to him and casually grabbed the small silver flask the boy held up. He took one big swig from it, making it clear it wasn’t his first for the night, before offering it to me.
Taking the flask, I just stared at it, feeling the cool smooth metal in my hands. “What is it?”
“I promised you a drink.” A slightly murky smile spread over his face. “It’ll help you have a good time.”
The smell wafting out of the container was strong and bitter as it burnt in my nose.
“Come on, you want to have a good time tonight, or what? There’s nothing to be scared of. We’re all friends here.”
The group laughed like it was some sort of inside joke. Shrugging, I lifted the flask to my mouth. Coughing around the first small gulp of pungent liquid that scalded its way down my throat, I forced it to stay down before shoving the flask back into Damien’s hand. “I’m good.”
“Have it your way.” Damien shrugged, taking another swig from the flask before tossing it back to Henry.
“Damien, can we just go back to the dance?” I looked around, not liking the thought of being out here alone watching while the boys passed the flask back and forth. Rebecca was just sitting there, giggling to herself as if she’d just made the world’s funniest joke. Not exactly what I’d call a party.
“But the real fun’s out here,” Damien said, reaching for another go at the flask.
“I don’t care, I’m going back inside.” I stormed up the stairs, putting their little shindig behind me.
“I said the fun’s out here.” Damien grabbed my wrist, pulling me into him, the stench of alcohol reeking off of him like an alcoholic warthog.
I pulled out of his grip and quickened my pace, taking the stairs two at a time. “You can stay out here if you want. I’m going back.”
“Where are you going in such a rush?” Damien put his arm around my waist and carried me the rest of the way up the stairs before turning me to face him, leaning his head close to mine. “I said the fun’s out here.”
I slapped his chest in protest, but he only laughed and swung me around until my back was pressed against the dark brick of the school building. I could feel the heavy music pounding from the other side. He pinned me against the rough surface, running his hand along the hem of my skirt and digging his face into my neck.
“Damien, stop,” I whimpered, squirming in his grasp.
He let off another chilling laugh, breathing a cloud of whatever was in that flask right in my face. “You don’t have to act coy. There’s no one here but us. I know it’s what you want.”
“No.” I felt the tears welling in my eyes as he leaned in to try and kiss me. “I just want to go back to the dance.”
“But look
at you.” He put a hand on my thigh and slowly led it up under the fringe of my dress. “You wouldn’t have dressed like this if you didn’t want it.” He squished his mouth against mine, circling his tongue in between my lips forcing that foul taste into my mouth.
I threw my gaze everywhere but at him, desperate for someone to come help me. The only people in the area belonged to Rebecca and Henry’s little group downstairs, I could still hear the braying laughter drifting up to us.
“Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it. It only hurts at first,” Damien whispered softly in my ear before dragging his slobbering tongue down my cheek and along my neck.
He leaned into me, forcing his mouth against mine, making it hard to breathe. His free hand forcing its way under my shirt, grazing against my stomach as goosebumps prickled out across my skin.
“Damien, stop,” I begged between stolen breaths. “Please.”
He just laughed like I was making a joke.
He forced his tongue into my mouth again, and I bit down on it hoping to make him stop. The second he let go, I made to run, but he grabbed my hair and slammed me to the ground.
Laughing, he climbed on top of me. I pushed at his shoulders, trying to get his pressure off of me. He just grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head with one hand. Moving his free hand down my body, he forced another slobbering kiss on my lips.
His hand pawed at the edge of my skirt, pulling at it. When his clumsy fingers started playing with the band of my underwear, I began screaming. He pulled his hand away and brought it down as a fist against my cheek sending my head bouncing against the pavement. Seeing black, I stopped screaming.
Murky spots danced before my eyes as my tears fell in wheezing sobs. I squeezed them shut, praying that someone, anyone, would help me.
The wind pushed down the corridor and I heard a low rumbling like distant thunder moving towards us. Damien paused in the drunken fumbling of his belt as if he’d heard it too. There was a meaty thud and in an instant Damien’s weight was off me.
“Stay away from her,” a familiar voice called out.
Praying the nightmare was over, I pried my eyes open. Collapsed against the wall on the other side of the corridor was Damien. Standing between us, glaring at the boy’s crumpled form, was a tiny girl in a worn kimono.
The tiny girl turned to me and placed a gentle hand aside my head, brushing away my tears. I could feel the panic and fear draining away as her small face beamed down at me in concern.
Damien let out a moan and like a switch had been thrown the girl’s concern turned to anger. Her eyes flashing deep shades of red as a sense of electricity filled the air. Like a walking thunderstorm, she marched over to where Damien was trying to pull himself up. Her short, raven hair strained away from her head, standing on end in bristling waves of black fire as she approached him.
The tiny girl grabbed the boy and flung him into the ceiling as if he weighed nothing. Before he even hit the ground, she snatched him out of the air and started slamming him against the wall. I could hear the sickening crack as boy collided with brick. Streaks of blood marked the sight of each impact.
“Stop!” I yelled from my place on the floor.
The tiny girl released her hold on the boy and turned to face me. Battered and broken Damien started crawling away from the girl, dragging his right arm behind him at an unnatural angle, loud sobs escaping his mouth.
He stretched his remaining arm towards me, as though begging for help, and in flash of red the tiny girl appeared beside him. Snarling, the girl delivered a mighty kick into his side and Damien went soaring over the edge of the stairs. I could hear his body crunch as it hit each step on the way down, followed by the screams of the startled teens down below.
The tiny girl, my imaginary friend since I was seven, stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at Damien, her face contorted in anger. Misa opened her mouth and the voice booming from her tiny frame bristled with rage towards the unmoving boy. “I won’t let you touch her.”
Chapter 10
I jolt awake, sitting up on my futon, almost forgetting where I am. For a moment I’m sure I’m still back in that hallway watching as my imaginary friend beat a boy into pulp. I look around confused, waiting for the mangled form of Damien to come shambling out of the shadows in a bid to finish what he started at the dance. I glance at the closed doors of the closet and look away before my imagination can will them open.
I have been trying so hard to forget that night, but no matter what it never seems to go away. That was the night it all started. The night the figment I’d spent eight years carefully ignoring almost killed someone. The night I began wondering if I really am crazy. The night my life went to hell.
My parents sent me away immediately after it became clear I wasn’t facing police charges. They just put me on a plane and sent me half way around the world. As if I was a problem they’d given up on solving. A broken toy they’d long since lost the receipt for. Rin, with her hallucinations, with her imaginary friend, just stuff her full of pills and ship her off to some rat hole on the other side of the planet. As far as we’re concerned she can go straight to he—
A soft knock sounds at the door, snapping me out of my thoughts. My anger dissolving as quickly as it appeared, I glance over at Haruka. She’s still asleep. I push myself to my feet and stumble over to the door. Opening it, I look out into the corridor and find Misa standing there.
“Why are you knocking?”
She just stands there, her lips turned down in a frown.
“What are you doing?” I look back at Haruka and hope she’s not going to wake up and catch me talking to myself.
“I can’t come in.” She stares at the floor, her voice filled with worry.
I look down and in the pale moonlight I see a line of dark powder sprinkled across the doorframe. “What is it?” I whisper as I crouch down and drag my finger through the chalky substance. When I raise my fingers I can see a black smear clinging to the tips.
“Ash,” Misa says, not bothering to keep her voice down. “This isn’t my house. I cannot cross it.”
“Well, good. You can just stay out there.”
I start to close the door but Misa blocks it with her hand. “No, you need me in there.”
“No, I don’t,” I hiss, making sure to keep my voice low.
“I need to protect you,” she whines, not moving her hand from the side of the door.
“From what?” I shake my head, not wanting to believe I need any of her kind of protection. The images of Damien shattered and broken are still too fresh in my mind.
“From the nightmares.” She raises her gaze, her piercing stare burning into me. I look away first.
“I’m not afraid of some bad dreams.” I push her hand away and shut the door.
“They’re not just dreams, it’s after you!” Misa bellows through the thick, closed door.
I suppress a shiver at her words and walk back to my bed, in no mood to deal with Misa and all the issues relating to her right now. Ignoring the open closet looming behind me, I lie down and close my eyes.
* * *
“Okiro!” Haruka says as she reefs off my blankets. She’s becoming quite irritating with her regular alarm clock behaviour. Can’t she wake me up like a normal person? Even tipping a jug of ice water over me would be better than putting up with her chipper mood every freaking morning. It makes me feel like I’m a grump, but I hate mornings. Especially after last night’s fantastic trip down memory lane. At least I didn’t have that other dream for once.
I groan and try to pull the sheets back over my head, but they refuse to budge. After a minute, I realise it’s impossible to even try to remain in bed any longer. I urge my eyes open, and I can see why I can’t move the sheets. Misa must have figured out a way back into the room because there she is, sitting on the end of my bed keeping them away from me. It’s like the two of them are ganging up on me and Haruka doesn’t even know it.
“Fine, I’m up,” I
moan, harsher than intended. “Can’t you ever leave me alone?”
As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret them, I see Haruka’s lip drop as she backs away from me. That comment wasn’t even meant for her. I had actually said it to Misa, momentarily forgetting I’m the only one who can see her.
“I’m sorry.” I push myself upright and move closer to Haruka. “You should know by now that I’m not a morning person.” I force a smile, hoping she believes me.
Haruka returns the smile. “That’s okay. I guess you wanted to sleep in on the weekend.”
“Yeah, that would be nice. What time is it?”
“Six.”
I feel my jaw drop. I didn’t even know this time existed on the weekend. It should be illegal to be up this early on a Saturday. Hopefully this isn’t her way of telling me I have more school to attend. I really need my two days off if they expect me to survive the rest of the week.
She moves to my bed and continues with her usual morning routine of folding it up and stowing it away before I’m finished using it.
“Can I ask you a question?” My voice quiet as if I expect the walls to sprout ears and start taking notes.
“Sure,” she says in equally as quiet voice. I can’t tell if she’s being sincere with me or if she’s mocking my own suspicious behaviour.
“What is it with Grandmother sprinkling ash everywhere?”
“It’s just one of her superstitions.” Haruka shakes her head. “I don’t think Grandfather would want me to tell you though.”
“Please, I’d really like to know.” I give her my best pleading look.
Haruka stays silent for a minute before sighing. “Grandmother is trying to prove that a spirit has entered the house.” She sits on the end of her tight, neat bedspread, patting out the few creases that appear from her sudden weight.
“What spirit?”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.” She jumps off the bed and extends a hand towards me. “Come on, we should go get breakfast while there’s still time.”
I see the silent plea, so I nod and take her hand. With a jerk I’m on my feet and being dragged from the room. I glare at the broken line of ash on my way out of the room. It’s obvious I’m not going to get any more information out of her—or anyone else in this house for that matter. Somehow, I’m going to have to find out on my own.