MajorKerina

This story contains a longer, alternate ending from the original material.

END

I turned out onto the main road and kept driving. I knew the way I was going would take me away from home but, at this point, I wasn't sure if that was a safe place to go. I remembered there was a cross street further up which would allow me to take the long way back, if I wanted to. I slowed as I glanced at the clear, darkened view in the rearview mirror. I didn't linger on any glimpse of Angie's visage. Instead, I felt around and wondered what happened to my wallet and phone.

The keys were at least the same in the ignition. Only when I came to a small strip mall with a twenty-four-hour liquor market did I start to feel safe that I could stop. I kept the engine idling and searched around. Still so much junk. The bag of food was down there but it looked lousy to my raw stomach and throat. Feeling Angie's blankets, I didn't find any weapons, but I did find a small purse and a phone similar to the one I used. I flicked on the overhead light and stared at them. The purse had the same black leather style as my wallet. Unzipping it, I found familiar cards. And a driver's license.

The name said Angie Drogan. A small photo showed Angie staring blankly out at me. Shivering, I put it away and tried the phone. Flipping it open and pushing the button, I stared at the title "Angie's Phone" as it started. The battery was low but not empty. The address book had the names of all my roommates, including Matt. I dialed his number automatically, not sure what I would get.

Matt answered quickly and responded, "Hey, Ange. What's up?"

It was Matt's voice. I wanted to correct him. I wanted to tell him who it really was. But, right at that moment, I realized I had forgotten my own name. It should've been there, but I couldn't remember it. All I had was Angie's.

Matt added, "Hello? Something wrong?"

I took a breath and tried, "I…yeah. Something's really wrong. I don't understand. There's been a lot of really scary stuff. And I'm not sure I want to go home…"

Clawing at memories, I told him about the doors being open and the shadow I saw. Then going for a drive to get away. I left out everything else.

Matt, always the protector, immediately asked me more questions, especially, "Are you safe now?"

I tried to answer them as best I could. I knew he could hear the beginning of tears in my voice. Matt assured me he was coming home as soon as possible and urged me to call the police if I needed to. I felt a lot better listening to him, even though Angie's body breathed with my every breath and her voice spoke my every word.

As I ended the call, Matt finished quickly, "I love you. Be safe." This caught me off-guard but, almost automatically, I repeated, "You too. I will." I pressed the "End" button before I could hear his reply.

I clutched the phone and peered around. Someone was standing towards the side of the liquor mart, just behind a large, old elm tree. They weren't moving from that spot. I started the car and then took another look. They weren't behind the tree anymore. I peeled out of the parking lot to the other opening and drove down the street. I didn't look back.

I drove around a bit, feeling traces of sweat drying on Angie's body, and finally stopped at an over-lit shopping center with a competitor big-box store to the one I worked at and called the police.

I held the phone away from my ear for fear that Angie's voice might scream in it. The ringing took several long moments before a male operator picked up and asked the nature of my emergency. I didn't hold back any of my tears. I told them all that I had said to Matt and kept the other details out. I did confabulate a phone call which was a blend of Angie's real answer and her knowing what the inside of my house looked like. It was enough for the operator to reassure me that the police would be by soon and to make sure I was somewhere safe.

I felt myself calming down even more with his words. I was just about to end the call when I heard a flash of static, not strange for how lousy the signal sometimes was on my usual phone. But the static was regular, like a cascade of running water. Then a sound like scratching, the same as I'd heard against the car. I shut the phone off and drove out of there.

I went by the house several times. I expected something strange. I expected the lights to turn on and off again. But it was shockingly normal. Everything was as I had left it. But I didn't want to go inside. I circled around the brighter sections of the neighborhood several times before the cops showed up right behind me.

With them there, the creepy feelings waned. I pulled the car into the drive and took them inside. The house actually felt cozy now, despite the fact I was navigating it in a body that wasn't mine. I showed them the sliding door and they considered dusting for prints as one of them took my statement. They stayed a little while, and I gave them some drinks as thanks. The younger one, tall and muscular, gave me the sort of looks which I never expected from…another man. It was deeply unsettling, but I forced a smile to look the part of a scared but relieved girl.

When we made our way over to the room with the two couches, I noticed the gray blankets were gone. I bent back my head and realized that was because they were on the floor of my car. Which was crazy…

I cradled my head as they said they would search around the outside of the house for any "signs of forced entry". I let them and clung to the couch. Even with them outside, the ill feelings stayed away. I sat there and waited. I could hear them walking around the house slowly. The beams of their flashlights scanned the yard. I leaned back and cradled my stomach. It wasn't quite as sour but the strange shape of it now set me on edge. I hid Angie's chest behind an end pillow and took a long breath. I glanced out the window.

One of the cops was standing all by himself with the dim cascade of the streetlight creating a rough silhouette through the drapes. I watched the form and tried not to breathe too fast. The shape didn't look as tall as either of the cops. Although the shape was hard to tell as anything but human. And it looked like the head was turned right at me sitting there on the sofa. Angie's legs trembled as I tried to stand and had to grab the other sofa. I looked over at the window. I was sure the head was following me. I rushed into the kitchen and away. But there was another shadow through the sliding door, twisted against the thin blinds. There was a knock. I screamed out.

A voice yelled to me. Matt's voice. I rushed over to the sliding door and unlocked it. Matt stood there in his work clothes with a concerned expression on his face. He wrapped me up in his arms and shot questions and concerns at me. I trembled from the way he held me. It felt so personal, so close. Nothing like before. It didn't help.

After a good, careful check of the whole area, there were no signs of an intruder found and no physical evidence. There were still friendly smiles on the faces of the cops. Matt defended me with scary little anecdotes from family. The cops promised to drive by the house a few times before they left the area.

With them gone, it was just Matt and me. Some dark part of my fears wondered if he might morph into a phantasmagorical version of Angie as soon as they left. But he remained as he was, kind familiar smile and all. He rubbed my shoulders and brushed my hair. It just reminded me of how much my body had changed.

He turned on the TV and some of the super early morning programs lightened the mood. He started to recede from me, put the stuff in his pockets away, do some tidying up. I considered if I wanted to see my room and how it might have changed. Eventually, I had to look. I gawked like I had accidentally wandered into someone else's space.

The bedspread was bent back like it had been, but the pattern was a rippling, deep blue instead of brown. Light and dark blues covered the walls like a sea. There was a gray lamp in the corner. I made sure every light in there was on. I took one glance at the skirts and blouses hanging in the closet and quickly shut the door. At least my games and books were still there. I almost settled on the bed, but I didn't want to close my eyes or hear those impossible water sounds again.

Instead, I roamed around the bright parts of the house and listened to the sounds of a comedy show rerun. The clock said it was right before a quarter till five in the morning. The sun was sure to be up before long. I jumped when I heard water running in a nearby room. But I relaxed when I realized it was just Matt taking an after-work shower. My bathroom and shower were in the room right next to his. And there were no windows to worry about looking out.

I shouted to Matt that I was going to take a shower too. He yelled back that he promised not to use up all the hot water. I answered, "Take your time."

I liked this particular bathroom and kept it well. My toothbrush clung to the wall in its little slot right next to my razor, which looked different. My brown towel was now deep gray. I left the door open.

I turned to face the mirror and tried not to be shocked by Angie's face staring back at me. There was no dried blood around her nostrils. Her gray eyes held fear instead of intensity. My fear. Her hair pooled around the hood and spilled out. In this light, she didn't look quite as pale. Maybe it was because I was alive and she wasn't. I grimaced and shook my head. The reflection mimed the gesture perfectly.

I sighed and looked down at the sink. I stared at the faucet. Reaching out, I turned the hot water knob. I paused and listened to the sound of running water. I cupped Angie's hands to splash her face. The water felt warm and refreshing.

I thought about how I would slip off the hoodie as I reached for a towel to dry my hands. I set a hand on the knob to turn off the water.

The sink creaked a little. The pipes rattled. The steam off the water vanished. It was cold. I could feel it. It flowed thicker. The sound felt heavy against the basin and the water was dark and ugly.

Panting, I twisted the knob to shut it off. The strange water lingered longer than usual but flowed down the drain and away, leaving no sign it was ever there. I braced myself and let out a sigh.

Dripping. I heard dripping in the basin. I looked down. Runny red marks on the white porcelain. My nose felt hot and wet. I reached a hand up to touch it. My fingers were smeared in blood. Drip drip. It wouldn't stop.

Suddenly, water rushed out of the faucet despite the knob not being touched. It stormed through, cascading in the sink, roaring. My nose kept dripping blood, which was swallowed up by the rising water in the sink. I leaned back and noticed, out of the corner of my eye, there was a bright glinting in the mirror.

I looked up, looked right at the mirror, and screamed.

A car was coming at me! It roared like a beast. I dodged away. The ground below me felt wet and slick. I stumbled and screamed for the car to stop. Please please stop! 

The driver's head was down. He didn't see me. It almost seemed like he was asleep, the car sliding towards me in the night on its own, possessed by dark malice. Mangled, silver teeth cut into my frail hoodie as I pushed my tiny body through a needle-hole thin gap in the fence. The dark breath of the car threatened to draw me back and inhale me. 

Somehow, I hadn't been crushed. Alien, feral shrieks cut through the night like the metal beast had been denied its prey. My flash of relief lasted the span of a racing heartbeat as I tumbled through the darkness and into a waiting void. Gravel and stones passed me like molars into the rush of the throat. Only it was cold. So deathly cold. 

I fell deeper and deeper into the night with no relief, no salvation. All I could hear was that song, in hazy whispers in the foggy night. 

Angie...Angie....

"ANGIE!" Matt was right next to and above me. He wrapped around me in a way that felt so wrong, but I couldn't escape. He held me, meant to protect me, but I felt trapped instead. 

Dragged over to the bed, I shook with numb aches, like a fish pulled ashore onto ice, trying my last to struggle away. Matt explained that I'd just started screaming and wondered why I was so cold. He wrapped me in blankets and towels, but it didn't help. Maybe I screamed. I didn't know. 

I couldn't be terrified forever. Rather, it came in waves. Like fighting to keep my head above water. I might push against the shoals and feel the towels and Matt's concern wash away the fear, but then she would come again, to remind me. And I would sink back below the depths. 

I had hope. Sometimes, I would consider the faint allure of Matt like a forbidden flame to warm the raw pits of my stomach. He would sit close to me or urge me to take a shower. But she was always there. And he had no idea. 

She was the coldness in my soul, the burning ice. 

It was later. Or earlier. Time didn't matter to me anymore. I measured my reality in how often she returned to me. At some point her fury lost its sharpness. Her anger turned to pity. My punishment was rote, routine, but still always fresh. I couldn't let go either. I had done this, I had made this mistake and no matter how much I tried to deny it, the horror of knowing never left me. 

I'm somewhere else now. They probably think I'm broken, crazy. I hold the towels close to me, so I won't slide out of this frail, withered shape. They're the dam keeping me together, but they're dripping wet. Please please. Help me. 

They can't. No one can. Matt is so kind, but I'm past repair. Sorry, my friend, this isn't me. I've been hollowed out. The only thing left in me is the chance I'll see Angie again, the original one, and my words, my frail, faint words will be enough to truly express to her how sorry I am. 

It was one moment, one lapse, one instant, one mistake in the dark of a foggy night. But it was everything. A poison on my soul. So, I wear her face as long as I can, a living memory.

The tune plays once more. The cycle begins anew. Angie...Angie...

Ain't it time we said goodbye?¹Songwriters: Keith Richards / Michael Jagger. "Angie" © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC