Fiction

Unrecognizable

I had woken earlier than normal, nearing 4 in the morning. The sun had not begun to extend over the peaks of the hills yet, though I wouldn’t have known if it had, as the blinds were always drawn tightly. I wasn’t sure what had alerted me awake, surely it was not the cat, she wouldn’t dare be awake at this hour. 

What had woken me? What had woken me? Who had woken me?

It had me on my feet now, the paranoia rising up my throat like vomit. I knew this feeling all too well, but it seemed unplaceable. 

I stood, observing the base of the stairs. Quietly, as if not there, I could hear the creeping of footsteps along the floorboards. In a moment, it felt as though my neck was wrung with the hands of a beast, the beast at hand being crippling fear. I freed myself from the paws of fear and began descending the stairs. I heard the cat padding behind me, just as quiet and observant as me. As we descended down, the fear migrated into my body rather than around it. I could hear my heartbeat rattling my skull, I could hear the repeated noise of the footsteps I'd heard. I cleared the last step, scanning the living room for the intruder I had heard, but despite my staring, I found no one standing before me. 

The fear did not subside. 

What had woken me? What had woken me? Who had woken me?

Someone was in my home. Someone was in my home. Someone was in my home.

I retraced my steps up the stairs in a sprint, I did not miss a beat, nor did my heart which seemed to beat at my sternum as an escape route. 

In the refuge of my room, I scanned the outside once more from my windows. Not a car in sight, not a person, not a thing out of place. I sat back against the bed frame, easing my body, but the anxiety still seemed to seep into my pores and dig at my chest. The shaking wouldn’t stop, the paranoia wouldn’t dissipate. I began the early morning routine, the attempt at blockading the fear from my thoughts. I gripped the bed frame now, crippled in my own mind. Not more but a leaf caught in a storm, being blown from its stability of the tree it once clung to.

Through the midst of an attempt to gather my consciousness, I saw the wall of my room light up. The slats of the blinds blocking some of the yellow light, I knew the sight. It was a sickening sight, to know the paranoia hadn’t lied to me this time, to know that someone lurked outside my home.  I hadn’t planned to be right, I had not planned for the fear to be all knowing this time. In that panic, I dove for the closet. I hid in the midst of shadows and unworn clothes, the cat by my side. I was ill prepared for this to take place, which one might assume quite the opposite considering I was consistently in fear of this, but the fear was paralyzing. It did not only take my body as a captive, but halted the construction of coherent thoughts in my mind as well. 

I heard the knocking at the door, I heard the knocking at the door, I heard knocking at the door.

The knocks were gentle, gentle for someone that wanted in my house. I was no fool to what they wanted from me. I braced my back against the wall of the closet, burrowing into the clothes. I remained still for hours, hours that truly lasted moments. I listened, I heard the knocks, I heard the voices, I heard the doorknob turn.

The panic blistered through my skin, the tears escaping the ducts, my breathing at a complete stop. Sweat dripped down my back and my stomach churned. I had never expected the paranoia to be right. I had never wished to be right. 

I heard the footsteps thunder through the house, fast and hard. It sounded like a man coming up the stairs.

They knew where I was. They knew where I was. They knew where I was. 

“Elise?” The disembodied voice called to me. I did not respond, not vocally, not physically, not emotionally. It called my name again, a mans voice. I was right. He sounded familiar, but familiarity was no friend of mine, for I had been familiarized with fear for life and that came as no good to me. 

As I held my breath, silence filled the room as a wave of the sea would fill pits dug in the sand, but it was shortlived when the wave crashed and the silence fell into movement. Movement of the closet door, movement of footsteps padding across the carpet. Movement of myself as I attempted to blend with the wall to escape the intruder. The loudness became ringing as blood rushed to my head in sheer fear, I could hear nothing but the blood rushing through my body. But I could see, I could see the light flood the tiny closet room, I could see the face of a man. He was older, he was not angry, his brow furrowed and his face gentle. The gentleness of his face did not ease me. He reached forward for me and my body took over for my mind, I was watching my body react to something I could not comprehend. I swatted at his hand, screaming, begging, but he grabbed me up in his arms with ease. He restrained me and attempted to comfort me, his attempts weak and failed. My body and voice begged to be released, but my mind was numb to the situation. I continued to struggle.

My body weakened under his grip, and as I seemed to collapse I felt his hand grasp my jaw, shoving pills down my throat. I couldn’t even attempt to spit them back, I felt them get swallowed, I was under no control of my body anymore. He stood me up on my feet, apologizing as if he had not violated and drugged me in my own home. I ran for the bathroom, the cat slipping through with me before I shut the door. I barricaded myself in the room, the feeling of sickness overwhelming me, I gripped the counter and braced my arms, staring down at the counter.

Someone was in my house. Someone was in my house. Someone was in my house.

The shaking seemed to ease off me, like heat escaping off the skin, I felt in control. I looked up at myself in the mirror.

Who was I looking at? Who was I looking at? Who was I looking at? 

I didn’t know the woman in the mirror. I didn’t know who looked back at me. I didn’t know who’s bathroom I was in. I knew what had happened to me.

Where was the cat? Where was the cat? Where was the cat?

I looked around me, the room wasn’t small, she couldn’t have gone far. I searched, but it seemed as though she disappeared. Straight into thin air.

I opened the bathroom door, I stepped quietly, carefully avoiding the parts of the wooden floor that I knew would creak beneath me. I faced the man who had broken in, my father, his smile was quiet, almost welcoming. He apologized for what had happened, he said he was only trying to help me. 

“I’m sorry about this, I know you don’t understand what’s happening before we give you your medication.”

Those words made it all come back, he hadn’t intruded had he? The wave of sickness fell over me again, where was the cat?

“Where’s the cat, dad?”

He scrunched his face. I knew by his look that she was apart of the paranoia. I knew now.