Chapter Seven #3
“You haven’t known me my whole life so how would you know?
” He yells back at me. I genuinely smile now as I walk over to the sink.
This time, I purposely stare out the window, searching for anything abnormal.
I look around the trees and the yard, not seeing anything before deciding that it’s fine.
I put my hands on the edge of the sink, dropping my head, and closing my eyes.
“God-damn, overactive imagination,” I whisper to myself.
This trip is going to give me a new thing to explore in therapy when I get back home.
We need to tackle my paranoia problem, apparently.
Could I be acting more insane on this trip?
What is wrong with me? This is confirming to me though that I will always be a city girl.
____
I get the glass cleaned up, peeking out the window every few seconds but the yard continues to stay empty.
I sigh a breath of relief and smile at myself, feeling somewhat embarrassed but mostly ready to get back to the night.
As I walk out of the kitchen, I think about leaving all the lights on, but I decide I don’t want to feed into my fear, so I turn them off.
I don’t stop myself, though, from speed-walking my way to the stairs.
When I get to the top, I hear the water turn off.
That was good timing. The moment my hand touches the doorknob, I feel it turning as Luke opens it.
He smiles as our eyes meet. He has the most infectious smile, only made worse by the fact that the only thing covering his glistening body is a tiny towel.
“Hi,” I smile back.
“Hi… are you objectifying me?”
“Maybe. Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all. Just making sure.” He squeezes past me into the hallway and starts retreating to the bedroom.
“But, if you wanna watch any of that horrible, reality show I know you downloaded then you better hurry. I’m about five minutes away from being asleep.
” Before he can get too many steps away, I grab his towel and tear it off him leaving him standing naked mid-step.
He doesn’t stop but instead smacks his ass and finishes walking into the bedroom.
I laugh, closing the door into the still steamy bathroom.
I can’t remember a shower ever feeling so good.
There’s nothing like scalding hot water after a long day.
A very long day. As much as I want to stay and use every ounce of this hot water, I clean up as fast as I can.
I refuse to admit it to myself, but that persistent feeling of being watched has come back, making it almost impossible to feel comfortable closing my eyes to wash my face.
I’m embarrassingly scared every time I close my eyes but after several rinsing attempts and only a small amount of soap in my eyes, I get the job done.
I reach for the knob to turn off the water when I hear a distinct click.
“Luke?” No answer. “I hope you’re not dumb enough to think trying to scare me again is a good idea.
I warn you, it’s really not the time, buddy.
” Silence. I turn off the water and quickly open the shower curtain before I lose my nerve, but the door is closed and I’m alone.
I let out the breath I’m holding. I’m losing it.
I grab a towel and wrap myself up tight as I carefully step out of the bathtub.
It’s one of those old claw foot tubs that’s deep and feels like a potential disaster to get in and out of every time.
I turn to look in the mirror, but when I look up, it takes my mind a moment to catch up with what I’m seeing.
In the middle of the mirror, stamped into the condensation, is a handprint.
It’s huge with long fingers and because of the humidity it looks like it’s melting.
Droplets are rolling down from each finger and the bottom of the palm.
I hold my hand against the handprint and my fingers don’t even extend past the palm.
Luke’s hands aren’t that big. I don’t know what to do.
I feel frozen where I stand. I close my eyes for a second and when I open them, the hand has faded enough that I can see my face through it.
Shit. I have to get Luke before it disappears.
I swing the bathroom door open and yell for him.
I hear him either jump or fall out of the bed before he is running toward me with a tired and scared look on his face.
I grab his arm and pull him into the bathroom.
“Look! There’s a handprint on the mirror.
Someone was in here! This is proof.” I’m staring at him waiting for a reaction but when he looks back at me, he has no expression at all.
Feeling confused, I look back at the mirror but there is only us.
I see Luke staring at me with concern and I can’t even blame him.
I look like a mess. In my rush to wash my face, I didn’t get my mascara completely removed so it’s smudged around my eyes making them look sunken-in.
My hair is dripping wet and my skin looks ghostly pale.
When I turn away from the mirror and look at Luke, he has a hand towel which he uses to gently wipe the makeup from under my eyes.
“You’re exhausted, Babe. You look like you’re about to fall over any second. Let me take you to bed and tuck you in. Please.” I don’t know what to say. What argument can I make for myself? The handprint isn’t there. Maybe it never was.