Daydreamer Read online

  He starts pasting back and forth, slowly. I almost had him, and he was scared. For a split second, he was afraid of something I did. The footsteps stop, and the camera is directed towards the couch, where I—she was hiding. And then the camera swings towards the closet, where Marie was hiding. She jumped out of the closet, umbrella in hand.

  I cover my mouth and start to sob uncontrollably. I told her to run, and she hid. And after she hides, she does the worst thing imaginable, try and save me.

  She swings for him but missed. She tries again and misses. From the camera view, there is a bit of moving and unfocused angles, and then he points his gun at her. Once his gun is out, I’m out—of my hiding spot.

  “I’m the one you want,” Katarina said, breathing heavy. She assumed that she was the one he wanted because initially he came for her, and completely ignored Marie. Why did she have to come out? “Kill me, not some innocent kid, you coward.” Katarina continued. The camera turns and stares at her, and then before I could blink, he turned and shot Marie in the head.

  At this point, I can’t hear sound, I can’t feel, I’m completely numb. My face is covered in veins and soaked from tears. I begin to throw some sort of tantrum. I grabbed the roses I brought over with me and started ripping at them, throwing them at the screen. I was screaming and yelling to the top of my lungs. I almost broke the computer screen. For a split second, I thought about picking up the laptop and crushing it to pieces.

  I take a seat, breathing as if someone took away the oxygen from the room. I tried to calm myself but, how could I? How could I fucking calm down!? It seemed like an impossible task at this point.

  When I look back up at the screen, it’s replaying the fast part where he turns and shoots my little sister. Over, and over, and over again. It resembled how the images played in my head for the past nine or ten months. The images I was starting to come to terms with, but are here, in front of me, making that unfeasible.

  I grab the laptop and tuck it under my arm, sprinting back for my apartment. I dash through people, wiping tears from my face instantaneously. I feel like at this very moment, this is the fastest I’ve ever ran in my life. I had this burst of adrenaline; this need to get home.

  When I get there, I hop in the police car that was monitoring my apartment. He wasn’t doing a good job because this stranger—or maybe not a stranger at all, tracked roses through my apartment.

  “I need to go to the police station,” I breathe. He looked confused. He turned back at me and opened his mouth to say something. “NOW!” I scream, releasing one last tear.

  Chapter 14

  When I get to the station, I rush through the doors, and right into David’s cubicle. I slap the laptop on his desk and wipe my face once more.

  “What’s this?” David asks. I don’t answer him for a good minute; I had to catch my breath.

  “This laptop is mine. The “culprit” was in my apartment, and even had the time to set white roses from there, to a church blocks away. Why the hell does the security detail suck?” It was true. It looked as if this guy took his sweet time, making sure everything was perfect; making sure that I would know exactly what to do when I saw each of the three clues. It was sadistic.

  David knitted his eyebrows and pursed his lips. He didn’t know what to say, or why the detail wasn’t doing their job. He opens the laptop and restarts the video. I wandered off, because the last thing I need to do is re-watch it. I found Clef’s cubicle and stopped by.

  “Hey,” he says, shuffling some papers and filing them away.

  “It won’t stop. Ever since you guys stopped hanging around upstairs, it . . .won’t stop.” I said, folding my arms. I wasn’t mad, I just felt helpless. The situation was confusing, complicated, and serious—very serious.

  “Sorry, I’ll request that those guys not monitor your apartment anymore. We’ll have them replaced.” He said, he was here, but not here. He heard what I said but wasn’t listening. And then he stops. Everything stops, and he turns toward me in his chair. “Just, don’t let that stop you from living though . . . okay? Who knows, maybe if you live, you’d discover more.” I nodded and left him with his work. I don’t know if he was talking about me or about him.

  When I go back over to David, he looks pissed. I was almost afraid to go over there.

  “So now when he leaves clues for you to follow into god knows where, you don’t call the police? It could have been a trap and you walked right into it, not even thinking about how that could harm this investigation. Katarina—your name is Katarina, you’re the only lead we have, and you just go and walk into strange places without backup?” He exclaims. He wasn’t loud, careful not to draw attention, but I could hear him loud and clear. I was stupid, I know, but I can’t promise if another opportunity comes up like that one, that I won’t do it again—because I would.

  “I’m sorry,” I try and squeeze in, but he keeps going. “We’ve let you do whatever you wanted so far, now it’s time to start playing smart.”

  “David, this isn’t a game! I can’t play smart, and without my heart because my heart is the entire case. My job isn’t to play smart, that’s yours.” I resort, instantly regretting my tone.

  “No, but your job isn’t to try and catch this guy by yourself either.” He says, sitting down. I wasn’t trying to catch him by myself, though I don’t know exactly what I was doing. Each time I got in contact with him, in person, I’ve tried chasing him. I chased Brent, and a separate time I tried to fight him, thinking that he was the guy I was looking for. I thought I was helping, plus it was self-defense, he did try and kill me.

  Sure, I didn’t know what I was doing, obsessing over the case, when half of the time I was making things worst.

  “But I can answer any questions you have that might help . . .” I was going to continue, but I just walked away. I conflicted with myself, not David.

  When I got home, I stood outside of my door, for about thirty minutes. At first, I was thinking, and then I was self-loathing, and then I decided that Clef, David, and Chelsea were right. Maybe I can do something other than the case just for a little while.

  As if the moment couldn’t come any sooner, Chris walked out of his room with a basket of laundry. “Chris,” I call down the hall. He turns around and I catch up to him.

  “Need company?” I ask, pointing at the laundry.

  “Of course, Uh . . . Kate?” He replied. I nodded, signing that that was my name. We walked downstairs together. Lucky for him, there was a washer available. He stuffed his clothes inside and topped it with detergent.

  We sat in the corner together, on top of a counter. He had something in his hand. “What’s that?” I point. For once I wasn’t afraid of someone I didn’t know. He could have pulled out a knife or a gun for all I knew. But our guy is someone who knows me, and who knew Marie too. The scope stays inside the circle.

  “A deck of cards, want to play?” He asked. I agreed. It was better than anything I would be doing right now if I was upstairs. Stressing, pasting, freaking out, stalking, or obsessing. We start to talk, about the thing he had with his mom yesterday, how his move is going, and I even learned that he is a sore loser. I beat him at his own game, literally, multiple times. It was nice to exist for a second without looking over my shoulder. I used to take these fun, quiet moments for granted, not anymore.

  “So, why’d you choose to move here?” I asked, looking him into his brown eyes. He thought about it for a while, and then finally said he was here because his job needed him out here, temporarily. That was sad to hear, but I didn’t comment on it. “What do you do?” I asked instead.

  “I’m a personal assistant, to anyone who needs one really. It’s a crappy job, and unconventional, but I get to see the world while I’m at it.” He says. I smiled, which was nice to do.

  “Better than unemployed, that’s where I reside.” He smiled at that. I mean I was serious, but I guess it was funny too. We look at each other, longer than expected. It’s like we got lost. T
he washer sounded loudly, which made the both of us jump.

  He looks over at the washer and then back at me, “Hey, do want to go out sometime? Like for dinner—or, or lunch?” He asked. I don’t answer him, the last thing I need is to add another person to my mess. He takes the awkward silence as a no and puts his clothes in the dryer.

  “I just—” I started.

  “No, you don’t have to explain yourself, it was too soon, sorry for asking.” He apologizes. After he comes to sit back down, we play a few more games. It was awkward, and my stomach was on its way to flipping out. I told a few awkward jokes, which didn’t help the situation, even though he laughed. Thankfully, his clothes were done, and he walked me back to my room.

  “Thanks,” I say, unlocking my door. I walk backwards into the room as he nods. Before he could walk away, I call out to him. “Chris, wait,”

  “Yes?” He says.

  “Yes,” I answer. What the hell, it’s just dinner.

  Chapter 15

  The next night, I borrowed something of Chelsea’s. Nothing fancy, just a blouse paired with jeans, and a leather jacket. She wanted to do my makeup, but I wouldn’t let her. I didn’t want to get all dolled up and give Chris the wrong impression.

  “Has anything happened . . . since the other day?” Chelsea asks, referring to the whole rose incident.

  I shake my head, “Radio silence,” I admit. And for once I wasn’t afraid, for the past few days. I didn’t even stop to notice that there is someone after me. David said something that knocked a few screws straight in my brain; though it took a few people to say the same thing for me to finally get it.

  I won’t ever get over my sister’s death, and I’m not saying I’m moving on. I’m just, healing. You don’t get over someone’s death; you just find a new way to deal with it. Right now? Chris is how I’m dealing with it.

  I go and knock on his apartment door; he answers almost immediately. He smiles, and I return it. I peek behind him into his apartment, his boxes are still packed, and it doesn’t look like he’s even attempted to unpack them.

  “Not even close, huh?” I ask, pointing at the situation behind him.

  “Not even,” he replies. He looks behind him, and then looks back at me. “It’s been a hassle, trying to find stuff to wear. All of my clothes are in the kitchen box, and my plates are in my shoes box.” He admits. “Do you want to just, skip dinner? Maybe help me unpack?” He asks. He backs into his apartment and gestures for me to follow him.

  I don’t know why, but I scope out the hallway, it became a habit, I guess. I walk inside his apartment and look around some more; taking in the scenery.

  “They always look so different when they’re empty.” I say, referring to the apartment. He nods, shutting the door behind me.

  “What’s first?” He asks.

  “First, we put on music,” I say, turning on my favorite playlist. I sit my phone on the counter. The upside to this apartment is that since it’s empty, the music has an echo.

  We start on the kitchen, locating the box with his dishes, and then putting each of them away. We clean out the refrigerator and disinfect the counters. When I moved in, I don’t remember it being this fun. We were dancing and laughing. He even tried to tell me a joke, but I pretended like I couldn’t hear him because it wasn’t very funny.

  Next, we moved to the living room. His couch was already here, and the blankets on it are a tell sign that he’s been sleeping there. I fold the sheets and store them away while he unpacked and set up his television. It was small, and convenient; easy to travel with. I opened the blinds to let in a little dim sunlight, because unfortunately it was the evening. We got side-tracked multiple times, lip singing to songs and just joking around. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much in one day. I should listen to Chelsea more often.

  We didn’t finish before it got too late, but we did enough. Afterwards, we played a movie on his small television screen. We sat on the couch, close together, but not quite. The hairs of our arms were barely touching.

  Towards the middle of the movie, he hesitantly put his arm around me. I froze, not expecting it to happen, but I didn’t stop him. I found myself snuggling into the embrace that welcomed me.

  …………………………………………………………………………………

  When day light broke, the sun coming in from the blinds that I opened last night woke me up. I opened my eyes to us both lying out on the couch, snuggling one another like we’ve known each other for years. I tried to get up from his grasp without waking him. I get up successfully and sneak out of the door. I ran down the hall, thinking of what Chelsea might think happened to me. And sure enough, three cops were outside my apartment door, with two of them being Clef and David.

  Chelsea was also outside, talking to them. She was in her pajamas and from what I could see, she was worried sick. She was shaking her head and talking with her hands.

  “Chelsea,” I exclaim from down the hall. I wanted her to see me, to see that I was okay; I wanted them all to see me. Chelsea turns around furiously, and after her, follows David and Clef. When I reach them, out of breath, no one says anything. David scribbles something down, and then I speak. “Guys, this isn’t because of me is it?” I ask, hoping that it wasn’t, but knowing that it was.

  “Yeah, because when someone in your situation goes missing or wherever overnight, I kind of have to do something about it.” Chelsea replies. She is angrier than upset. “I was just telling them that the last time I saw you, you were out on a date with Chris,” She says, pointing down the hall towards his apartment.

  “I just, I’m sorry. I fell asleep during a movie.” I say, trying to explain my half of the story. Everyone’s eyes are suddenly off me and are stuck on something behind me. I turn around, and I see Chris walking out of his apartment. His shirt is wrinkled, and I guess after I left, he put on pajama pants. He sees everyone staring, waves, and walks over.

  I look back at Chelsea and I know what she’s thinking. I try and explain further, but Chris reaches us too soon. “You left without saying goodbye.” Chris says, standing weirdly close to me. I hope he doesn’t think we are anything we aren’t. Last night was fun and all, but I just fell asleep.

  “Sorry, but I have to go,” I tell him, waving him off. I push everyone inside my apartment, including the officer I had never seen before.

  “He didn’t say that right, I mean he said it right, but it’s not what it seems.” I try to explain but Chelsea doesn’t buy it. She smiles, and I watch as the anger in her disappears.

  “You don’t need to explain that to me, Kate,” she laughs, “I get it,” she continued. I flopped down on the couch and sighed, it is no use in trying to explain anything to Chelsea.

  “You’re a big girl, you deserve to be happy, and if he makes you happy, don’t stop on my behalf. I was just worried; you have to call me next time.” She says, sitting next to me.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I say. I look up at David and he isn’t amused, neither is Clef.

  “We’re going to go and talk to this ‘Chris’ character, to check him out, you ladies have a good rest of your day.” The other officer said. They all leave, and I get in the shower. I felt . . . relief. Not because of the Chris situation, but because of how Chris is starting to impact my life, positively.

  Chapter 16

  It’s been two days, and Chelsea and I haven’t heard back from either David or Clef. I guess that was a good thing, which must mean that Chris checked out. Speaking of Chris, I’ve been dodging both him and Chelsea, which was hard since I live with one of them. I don’t know why I do anything anymore. Chris was a good thing, a friend outside of this whole mess. I tend to screw stuff up, so why not this?

  I’ve been sleeping on the couch and probably hadn’t seen the inside of my room for about a week. When I go in, I almost run out of my apartment immediately; I half scream and half-flinch so hard that I almost fall. There are over five-hundred pictures pla
stered all over my four walls. They are off guards of me, taken as I was getting on the bus, some were taken of me in the church, some of them are of me walking into Chelsea’s burning house, and of me outside of the therapy group I used to attend.

  He’s been in my house, again. He has been in my room; he has probably stood over me while I was sleeping, and most of all, he has been following me everywhere since Marie’s murder. All those times I thought if I didn’t hear from him, that I’d be safe were all . . . naive. How stupid of me to think that I could be happy and try and move on from what happened.

  I pick up my phone, call Chelsea, and then I call the police. Chelsea rushes home immediately and walks in on me pacing back and forth in the living room.

  “Chels, what the hell? He’s been here, he… he he’s been inside my house.” I stutter. I try my hardest not to cry but it’s the worst feeling: trying to talk and trying not to cry at the same time. I got this cloudy feeling in my throat that made me want to cry even more.

  I point repeatedly towards my room, covering my mouth. She runs to my room and stops in her tracks as she scopes the area. She walks inside slowly with her mouth open. I follow behind her, slower than she had been. The only words I could think were: why me, and will this ever come to an end?

  “Who else did you call, other than me?” She exclaims, turning to face me.

  “The police, David will probably come.” I say, trying to breathe slowly, in and out. Remember the sessions. In and out. Breathe, with my stomach. I run my hands through my hair and then continue. “Should we take them down?” I ask.

  Chelsea shakes her head, “Evidence,” She says, plopping down on my bed. “Ouch,” Chelsea shouts, and then pops up as quickly as she sat down. I opened my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but she furiously snatches the sheets from my bed. There, lay a blanket of white roses covering my bed. The thorns must have pricked her in the butt.