Chapter 2 #2
I only stare back, unable to think clearly. His voice is like honey—sweet enough to eat, and sticky enough to entrap me. Perhaps a bit… British? Definitely not the same booming, thunderous angel-of-God voice that forewarned animal metaphors and gave me painful paper to eat.
Surely there’s some explanation for this.
“You look quite sickly. Still prettier than I expected, though.” He tilts his head to the side, a single curl falling out of place. “Younger, too. I figured you’d at least have a fully developed frontal lobe.”
“Do you… need something… from me?”
“Oh, right. Yes. I need to talk to you. Alone, please.”
Alarms shoot off inside me, sending my nervous system into perilous depths.
I’ve gone down the wrong rabbit hole, thinking this man could be an angel—he’s probably a regular, run-of-the-mill stalker!
I could even have seen glimpses of him around before, which would explain why my subconscious dreamed about him.
I haven’t heard of predators looking for victims in hospital staff, but it’s plausible.
I could see it happening to me, considering my shitty luck lately.
“Sorry, but I’m not interested.” I try to walk away and let him handle his rejection in peace, but he doesn’t leave me alone for a single moment.
“You’re lying,” he calls after me. “I can tell.”
“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself. When I look over my shoulder to address him, my facial expression is equally shocked and appalled. “What the hell is your problem?”
“I can’t tell you that here.” He points to the nearest security camera. “Too many prying eyes. I’d be happy to explain everything if you just come with me—”
Clearing my throat, I summon whatever authority I can muster as a part-time employee here. “Sir, if you keep harassing me, I will call security.”
“Okay, okay. Fine.” He puts his hands up, signaling acceptance of his defeat. For a moment, I second-guess myself, wondering if I’m being too hard on him—but then he opens his mouth again. “We’ll speak again soon, sunshine.”
Without another word, he turns around and strolls away.
I stare at his retreating figure, utterly dumbfounded, for a long moment. Eventually, he turns the corner, and I peel my eyes away.
I’m unable to go back to the urgent care clinic after my strange encounter, hallucination… whatever it was. Yet, I can’t bring myself to go home, either. I need a distraction—something busy, strenuous, and truly exhausting.
So, I decide to go to the emergency room.
I tend to save it for the days after I’ve had some drug-induced sleep, since it’s my favorite place to shadow, but they hardly ever turn me away.
The staff knows me well by now. A lot of them used to work with my mom, back when she was still a nurse and. .. alive.
I stall in front of their charting station until one notices me, snapping my focus back into place. “Hey, Kae! What’s up? I didn’t think we had you on the schedule today, but boy are we slammed. Could definitely use some help in the stat lab, if you’re free. I know it’s not exciting…”
My eyes catch on the plaque behind their counter, proclaiming the most famous piece of the Hippocratic Oath: Do no harm.
“That’s perfect, actually.” I spare a glance around. “Is Dr. Johnson working tonight?”
“Yeah, the old man’s around here somewhere.” The woman furiously types away on her keyboard while she talks, displaying an expert level of multitasking beyond my comprehension. “Just go on back, sweetie, and I’ll make sure he signs off for your hours.”
So I do.
And she’s not lying about how busy they are, either. There’s a backlog of tests piled up, keeping me occupied for hours. I might be seasoned at running them, but I have to work extra slowly to make sure my brain doesn’t make stupid mistakes.
By the time the third shift comes in, I’m exhausted enough to call it a night.
Beyond exhausted, really.
It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to remember how to get to the cafeteria and find something to stave off my appetite.
When I finally enter the parking garage around midnight, I just stand there, waiting by the hospital doors.
Not intentionally, but I can’t remember where I parked my damn car.
I think the allergy clinic was on the first floor?
I know I probably shouldn’t even be driving, but it’s not like the roads are busy at this hour.
Simply going down a flight of stairs right now seems like a monumental task. But I endure it, mumbling complaints along the way.
Finally, my car appears—except it’s on the complete opposite side of the garage, hiding in the goddamn corner.
I groan, tossing my head back for a brief moment. I’m deep into sleep deprivation, paranoid as hell, and I can’t get a song out of my head that’s been stuck in it all day. All I want right now is to be home in my bed.
Reluctantly, I start my march to my car, eying every shadow suspiciously. This place is particularly creepy at night, but especially after this morning. The more I think about the man who may or may not be a bona fide stalker, the more unnerved it makes me.
We’ll speak again soon, sunshine. He said it like a promise, one that he has every intention of fulfilling.
In other circumstances, I could have brushed it off as an innocent flirt between two strangers.
I might even have thought the pet name was cute, or at least appreciated its confidence. But these are not normal circumstances.
Are his words a beautiful monarch butterfly, poisonous when eaten? Or are they a harmless mimicry, like the viceroy?
I’ve never been a great singer, but in a pathetic effort to calm myself, I decide to belt out the lyrics of the song in my head—loud, off-key, and cracked with budding panic. Maybe the terribleness of my voice will be enough to ward off evil men.
“Call me, little sunshine… Call me—” What was that?
I swear I just saw one of those shadows move.
My eyes dart around to every corner and shadow, but nothing seems out of place. I hurry the last few steps to my car, slinging my backpack over my shoulder to dig out my keys. I hope to hell I’m overreacting, that I can laugh at my paranoia tomorrow…
Seconds pass. I can’t find my fucking keys, and I’m cursing my past self for allowing this thing to be filled with such disorganized, random chaos. Where are they? Something feels so terribly off. I need to go, I need to go, I—
A shadow falls over me. Instinctively, I flatten my back to my car, whirling around—and my breath halts in my throat.
It’s him.
My stalker is heading straight for me, slipping across the parking deck with a crude casualness. His pace is slow, his movements soundless, like an owl hunting in the night. There are no obvious weapons on him, but his clothes are loose enough that they could still be hiding something.
“Since you have no problem serenading me, then surely you wouldn’t mind talking now,” he says to greet me.
Hell no!
I finally remember to check the front pocket for my keys, and by sheer luck, they’re in there.
I yank them out, hurrying to unlock my car door—but my hands are shaking so fucking badly that I fumble them and they fall to the ground with a loud metallic clatter.
My chest tightens, terror ripping into me.
I snatch my keys up as quickly as I can, and in the process, I realize with terrifying clarity that I’m the stupidest woman alive. By parking in the goddamn corner, my driver’s side door is right next to a wall.
I’ve trapped myself in a corner.
The man glances over his shoulder, seeming to make sure we’re alone, before blocking my path. Every clouded instinct I have screams at me, all at once, leaving me with no logical solutions. How do I get out of here? Should I try to get in my car, or barrel roll over the hood to run away?
Taking one step closer to me, he reaches out a hand. “Kae—”
“GET AWAY FROM ME!”
He pauses, and for a split second, I think my screaming might have stopped him, but then it gets even worse.
He starts unbuttoning his shirt.
The horrifying implications come crashing down on me like a tidal wave, and suddenly, I’m no longer treading water. I am drowning.
All that separates us is two short steps. There are no cameras, no witnesses, nobody running to my rescue. This is it. He’s going to rape me.
Then, by some miracle, I get a single clear idea: Pepper spray! I have pepper spray! That could buy me enough time to get away. It has to.
My trembling fingers dive into my bag again. I rip out my spare pair of scrubs, throw them on the ground, and frantically dig around the remaining contents. I just need a few more seconds. “STAY BACK!”
Daring to glance down into my bag, I see the vague outline of the bottle. My shaking hand latches around it, jerking it out as my life depends on it. I aim, and—
And—
My body goes completely still.
There, hanging on the back of the man in front of me, are massive, white-and-gold wings.
Angel wings.