Daydreamer

  Daydreamer

  By Shauntel Anette

  For my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Powell, who made me realized I wanted to be a writer.

  Chapter 1

  My heart beat so loud it scared me. I was afraid my attacker could hear it as if he were standing right next to me, with his head to my chest.

  Marie, my sister, comes running from out of the closet, distracting him. My guess is that he got too close to where I was hiding.

  She starts swatting the air with an umbrella, trying to defend herself—or me. The masked man pulled out his pistol. Hearing him turn off the safety made me jump up from my haven. I put my hands up in submission.

  “I’m the one you want,” I said in between gulps. I didn’t know that for sure. Candidly, I didn’t know why he was here. “Kill me, not some innocent kid, you coward!” I say this a little louder. He turned toward me and stared. Even though he had on a mask, I could tell he had a grin on his face. Without letting another second go by, he shot Marie in the head. By doing so, wounding her and me forever.

  “Bastard!” I screamed, while attempting to launch at him. I could barely see him through glassy eyes. He grabbed me by my neck with one hand and put the gun to my temple with the other. I struggled, but I was no match for him. The more I did, the tighter his hold got.

  “Kill me, it’ll be the least you could do.” I threatened, and yet, somehow begged. At that moment, I had lost all emotion. The last of my heart was lying right next to me on the floor, lifeless.

  8 MONTHS LATER . . .

  This isn’t therapy. I thought.

  I sat there listening to his story. He lost his wife and child in a house fire. He started the fire, but he was drunk and regretted the whole night. He wanted some way to go back to be a better father and husband. Every time he tried, he ended up in jail overnight. He did petty things like getting drunk and starting a bar fight, yelling “that was for my family,”. Seems to me like he wanted to blame everyone else. That’s why he is here confessing his troubles to a group of strangers.

  “If you all would just pray for me in your spare time, I’d be eternally grateful.” He pleaded. That seemed like an awful long time considering we’re just going to tell him that we will and then go home.

  “You’re in our prayers, Jeff.” We coursed.

  I started to fidget with my nails, realizing I was up next. You would think that after seven months I’d be used to telling the same people the same story of why I was here.

  “I’m Kate,” I said, finally looking up from my hands to a circle of faces.

  “Hi, Kate.” The group coursed. I looked around the group avoiding eye contact. I looked at Jeff’s shinny watch, and at Hilary’s grey sweater, noticing how it didn’t exactly correspond with the warm weather outside.

  “I was a witness to my little sister’s death, and it feels like my fault. For the first few weeks I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes . . . I saw how she died in slow motion. I am here so you guys could make that horrific incident in my life a little bit easier to deal with . . . because I know I’ll never forget it. If you all would just pray for me in your spare time, I would be . . . grateful.” I said, changing the last part that everyone was supposed to say.

  I looked up to the group’s leader, Bridget, as she cracked her neck, attempting to stay calm about my little adjustment.

  “You’re in our prayers, Kate.” The group repeated.

  “Group is over. I hope you all found just a little bit more comfort in today’s session. One step at a time before we can reach complete revival,” She softly preached, speaking as if to children, or babies.

  Everyone got up, shuffling back and forth, putting the chairs back in rows for the next meeting scheduled here. I leave my chair how it is, and I go over to the snack table.

  When I look up, Bridget is coming straight toward me, looking more tense than usual. I pick up a donut and stuff it in my bag before she got too close.

  “What’s going on with you?” she asks.

  I shrugged my shoulders, “There’s too much food. No one’s going to eat it all in time, I might as well pack—”

  “Why didn’t you say the right lines? We are trying to give people hope. ‘Eternally grateful’ gestures to how much they want to be prayed for. Do you not want to be prayed for? Your sister would never forgive you if you don’t want people to pray for her . . . and you.” Bridget whispers while stepping closer to me.

  “You don’t know me or my sister.” I spat. “Don’t ever talk about her again.” I try and slow down my breathing before I did something I would regret. I closed my eyes and reopened them. “This is my last session here; you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

  I stomped out of the door dialing Chelsea’s number. She was my best friend. The only person who knew exactly what was going on in my mind, and how to tame it in the same gesture.

  “How was your session?” she asked.

  “Oh hell, the same as usual, but this time was my last time.”

  “Why? You just started! What’s going on? You need help Kate, seriously.” She said. I heard both anger and pity in her tone.

  “I’ve been a member for seven months; how much help do you think I need Chelsea!” I replied, irritated. I opened my car door and sat there in the driver’s seat, listening for a response.

  “You’ve been a member for seven months, but you’ve only been to like three sessions Kate!” She resorts.

  I brushed off what she said and looked back, ready to put my car in reverse. Oddly, something on my seat caught my eye right before I let up on the break.

  “Chelsea, did you leave a black glove in my car yesterday?” I asked, reaching back to pick it up.

  “No, I wouldn’t wear gloves in the middle of summer.” She said. I couldn’t see her, but I could tell that she rolled her eyes.

  “Your right,” I said, throwing the glove out of my window.

  Our talk didn’t last long after that. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what Bridget said. She’s the devil’s reincarnate. Or maybe I overreacted, but I doubt that.

  She even suggested I watch this movie called The Hunter of Jasmine Barns. Apparently, it would make me realize I was lacking my humanity.

  It turned out to be a horror film. About a girl who had everything and then nothing. Everything was snatched away from her, one by one, by someone she knew but didn’t know at all.

  The fact that she didn’t know who or what to trust drove her insane. Poor girl couldn’t even tell the difference between surrealism and reality.

  I couldn’t help but cry at the end, when she finally saw the face of her torturer. Realizing it was the face of the person she thought she loved. “Love is nothing but fear and heartache,” He tried to explain to her, right before he killed her.

  Just like Bridget, to tell me to watch a movie only half as disturbing as she is.

  I jumped, as a knock sounded at my front door. I mute my TV and listen for it once more. I get up and look through the peephole . . . but all I saw was the door opposing mine. When I open the door, nothing remains but a box.

  I pick it up and shut the door. The scent coming from the box reminded me of a faint scent of decay. When I uncover the box, it’s a dead cat matched with freshly bloomed flowers. I cover my mouth and nose, attempting to pick up the card that rests comfortably on top of it. The text was as red as blood, it read, “Did you miss me, Katarina?”

  Chapter 2

  The next day felt like more of an inside day. I didn’t know who sent that package last night, and the tingling imprint it left on my skin unnerved me.

  It was my gut that told me to text Chelsea about it. After all, I had no one else to tell. She told me to call the police, but I think that would be for nothing. It w
as an anonymous package. I had no foe’s, or at least none that knew my real name, Katarina.

  Chelsea came over to cook me brunch, but I didn’t touch it.

  “I know that was scary, but everything is going to be okay. You never have to be alone again, you know that, right?” Chelsea said, stuffing her mouth with her BLT.

  I nod. Of course, I knew that, but I didn’t know if I wanted the company. I tapped my foot against the hard wood floor as I bit my nails.

  Gradually, I began to space out. Only catching part of what Chelsea was saying. The last thing I heard her say was, “I think we should call the police.” She managed to catch my attention for a quick second, as I shook my head in response.

  Next thing I knew she was at the door, bringing someone to the table with us. When I look up, it was an officer, trying to take my statement. Just like Chelsea to do the exact opposite of what I ask of her. I felt anger trying to override me, but fear took over instead.

  “Ma’am, do you have any information that would help us along in this investigation?” He asked, holding a notebook in his hand, waiting on me to say something.

  “No,” I said, “Someone knocked on my door and left that package, that’s really all there is to it.” I continued. I could tell from the look on his face that he thought I sounded “emotionally closed off”.

  I remember that look from eight months ago, when I was in and out of the police station trying to get answers for my sister.

  “Ma’am,” He sounded irritable, but remained calm. This is exactly why I didn’t want to bring the police into this; I have nothing to offer them. “Could you make time to come down to the station tomorrow? I would like it if you were to talk to someone that could put two and two together for you. You seem confused and scared, I understand.

  “I’m going to look at the security footage of the entry to the apartment. I might be wrong, but the evidence points to that package being a death threat.”

  Chelsea showed him out as I sat there, in the same spot I was in when they got here. In my chair, staring at my food. This was how I seemed to be processing things right now . . . by staring dumbfoundedly at nothing.

  The thing that keeps playing over in my mind is that I don’t know anyone personally enough that would want to kill me, or my sister for that matter. That officer must be mistaken; he must be, because it doesn’t make sense. My life hasn’t made any sense since . . . Marie.

  “Chelsea?” I asked. She looked up at me, noticing the worry in my tone.

  “Do you think it was . . . him?” I continued. Her face fell, and we stared at each other for the entirety of sixty seconds, speechless.

  “No, Kate,” She assured me. I nod my head, but that doubt was still there, lingering in the back of my mind. She doesn’t even know the real reason that man came to kill me that night, and neither do I. It’s been months and I’m still trying to piece together why it happened.

  The case was unsolved, but a perfect crime at the same time; a robbery gone wrong. I just wish it was that simple because then, Marie’s death wouldn’t feel like my fault.

  Chelsea and I decided to go on a movie spree. By the end of the night, we watched two comedies, and three dramas. We slept in my Livingroom on the couch. Chelsea naturally fell asleep before me, but for some reason I couldn’t sleep.

  I stared out the window, watching the wind push the trees back and forth. It was beautiful against the dark blue sky. After a while, I fell asleep to it.

  ……………………………………………………………………………….

  I borrowed Marie’s laptop, browsing a random site looking for “friends”. I came across this guy that had on a hood, facing opposite the camera as if he were walking away. With a subtle tilt of his head I could see his smile. I went through the rest of his pictures, but that was his only one.

  I pressed “match” for some odd reason. I just felt like I was propelled to talk to him. His interests were improv, and he was looking for a friend. He was twenty-six and left everything else blank. They were simple questions, as simple as one, two, and three, but he still refused to answer them.

  Later I discovered I got a notification from him and it said: “Let’s get to know each other, Friend.” I smiled at the formal notion, given we’d never met before.

  …………………………………………………………………………………

  “No,” I screamed, waking up with sweat dripping down my face. My heart pounded against my chest, trying to escape.

  “What’s wrong?” Chelsea screamed back at me, trying to hold me together literally, and figuratively. I felt the walls closing in on me; the room was dim and pulsing red. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, vigorously.

  I blink to clear my vision and then everything was gone. All the noises and filters, everything I thought was happening around me seemed nonexistent. Chelsea looked at me like I was crazy. Her expression didn’t worry me though, that nightmare did.

  “Earth to Kate,” she waves. I blink again, and then looked at her.

  “I’m, I’m fine. I just need some water, go back to sleep.” I say. She reluctantly nods and complies. I went to the kitchen and turned on the cold water. I feel like any second someone else could knock on my door, and I would drop my cup.

  I stared at the water running into my glass. It seemed slow, but so fast that I couldn’t stare at the same spot. I went to go sit back on the couch, but this time I didn’t plan on going back to sleep, not anytime soon.

  Chelsea thinks I’m sick about what happened, and now I have some crazy stalker leaving death notes on my doorstep.

  The police are thinking way more into this than they should, considering my history, I don’t blame them.

  As if by instinct, I pop some pills my doctor gave me with my water. Hopefully they won’t put me to sleep. I can’t deal with what R.E.M might have had in store for me.

  I stayed up until sunrise. Chelsea woke up and looked at me but didn’t say anything. She knew better. Somehow, she knows what’s wrong, or at least that something is wrong.

  A few hours later, after breakfast, we headed to the station. We sat in the driveway for a while, contemplating on rather we should go in or run. Naturally, I pushed towards run but we went inside anyways. I walked a few steps behind Chelsea, leaving it up to her to figure out where to go.

  “We’re here to see Officer David.” Chelsea said to the lady at the front desk. She nods and phones into a . . . pager? We stepped back, waiting for any signal at all that we shouldn’t stay.

  Sure enough, Officer David rears the corner, and leads us away. He looks like he hasn’t gotten any slept last night, which made two of us. He sat us down and called over another officer.

  “There was in fact someone on the footage, but we only recovered a two second clip. The footage from the time of entry to the time he left is missing. From what we saw he was male. The man was young, probably around your age. He wore a hood so . . . that was all we got. It could be anyone, frankly.” He sighs.

  Chelsea and I nod. I look up at the officer standing next to Officer David, he stood there, uncomfortably. It’s like he wanted to lean on something, but then again, tried to stand up straight.

  “Oh, and this is . . . Officer Clef. He’s going to be asking you some questions to see if there’s anything you’re missing.” I nodded as Clef introduced himself. Officer David and Chelsea left, leaving me with Clef.

  “So, the report that Officer David wrote last night said that . . . someone left a potential death threat on your doorstep. Start off by naming anyone, and I mean anyone, in your life that fits the profile of this man.”

  I gulped. I didn’t know what to say to that. The only other man in my life was my dad, and he wasn’t speaking to me.

  “I see you’re having trouble with this question, we’ll come back to it if you’d like.” He said. “That girl that was in here with you . . . have you known each other long?” He continued.

  “Ye
ah,” I swallowed. “We grew up together.” He nodded and wrote something down.

  “Does she know anyone that might be jealous of the relationship you have, someone who was rejected by her?”

  “My sister was the only one that was jealous of us, always wanting to hang out with us and stuff like that.” I admit. “But I’m completely positive that Chelsea or anyone she knows, would never do this to me.” He nods and repeats the same notion.

  “What makes you so certain?” He pushed.

  “The person who wrote that note called me by my real name. Everyone that Chelsea knows calls me Kate. I’m pretty sure they all think my name is Kate.”

  “Well, is your real name on any social media sites?” He asked.

  Yes. “No,” I said, shifting in my seat. He stared at me while I thought about it. Should I tell him? It might make this investigation faster, and they might catch the bastard that killed my sister.

  “There was this . . .” Out of nowhere, we’re both drizzled in water. Someone tripped the fire alarm. He left the cubicle, eying the rest of the place, looking for anyone who may have done it. When he turns back, takes off his jacket and hands it to me.

  “Wait for me or Officer David in the parking lot. We’ll deal with this.” He said, sprinting out of the room. I shield myself with the jacket and follow suit.

  Chelsea was waiting by her car. Her hair was equally soaked. When she looked up at me with knitted eyebrows, I could tell something was wrong. I couldn’t tell if she was crying or if that was water dripping from her face.

  “Someone left this note for you on my windshield.” She shivered.

  The note read: Why would you want to go to the police? I thought we had something special.

  I ripped up the note until nothing remained but tiny fragments of paper and let them drift every which way. “Chelsea, you can’t tell anyone that I got this note.” Obviously, whoever this person was didn’t want me to say anything. I wasn’t, not right now, not while I felt Chelsea might be in danger.