Moonstrike, Chapter Two (revised)

When I woke, it was to sunlight in my eyes. I blinked rapidly for a few seconds, and then looked around at the walls, in a sort of daze. My comforter was soft and billowy, and gave the feeling of being surrounded by clouds. I shook out my thick brown hair from the ponytail I had left in last night, and slowly pushed my comforter away from me, still too asleep to move quickly.

I stood for a moment, blinking my eyes against the sleep, and then walked slowly to the bathroom. The sight that met me in the mirror, however, shocked me awake completely. My hair was in a state that might be called an afro, only slightly droopier. I grabbed a brush and yanked it through the tangled mess, breaking lots of hair off rather than untangling them.

When I had attacked my hair to the point where it looked decent, I put the brush away and went to look for food. I didn't look very far, however, due to my lack of anything edible. I needed to go grocery shopping. I sighed, but grabbed my wallet and walked out to my truck anyway. I supposed I could look for a thrift shop as well.

Once in town, I drove slowly, searching for a store that might sell food, or maybe a thrift store. I pulled into a store called The Grocery Store. I chuckled at the blunt, simple name. I liked this place a lot.

I made it through the store quickly due to the stares I received from the people around me. 'That's a little bit awkward...' I thought, embarrassed. My shoulders slumped a bit in an attempt to seem smaller, and I kept my eyes on the shelves and the ground, letting my hair fall in a thick curtain around me. I grabbed a bunch of random things that I couldn't identify in order to leave faster.

I paid for the things in a self checkout, not wanting the stares I would attract from the cashier, and left hurriedly with only two bags of food. Due to the stares I drew from the people in the parking lot, I nearly ran to my truck and slammed the door shut behind me. Jamming the keys into the controls, I revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot as fast as possible without attracting more attention than I had already.

I decided I would not subject myself to the stares I would get at the thrift store today. Instead, I went home, put away the food, and ate. Done with responsibilities for the moment, I decided to look around outside.

There were a few trees in the front yard, and a six yard expanse of empty grass in the back before it abruptly transformed into thick, lush forest. There was a marked trail leading off of the yard, one tree in the center of the little clearing that had a little dip in the roots that looked perfectly shaped for sitting, and on the porch was a swing.

An idea revealed itself inside my head, and I ran inside to get my book and a blanket. Laying the blanket over the hollow in the roots of the tree, I sat down and leaned back against the trunk. I had randomly grabbed a book from my bookshelf, so I looked down to see what I had chosen. It was a worn paperback copy of Jane Eyre. Yawning slightly, for I was still a bit tired, I opened it and began reading.

I had developed had a deep hatred for Ms. Reed and her children- the way they tortured Jane when she was a child sickened me- and a fondness for the little girl named Adele, throughout the many times I had read it. I was just turning to the second chapter when I suddenly had the overwhelming sensation of being watched. Looking up, I saw nothing, but I heard a rustling sound from the farthest corner of the yard, deep in the forest.

Wary of wild animals, I stood up slowly and walked steadily inside. Once inside, however, I nearly collapsed into the nearest kitchen chair. My chest felt constricted, and my legs flopped like jelly. I didn't know what had brought on such an incapacitating fear, but the feeling of being watched had not receded.

The wind blew hard around the house, rattling the sliding glass door, and angry raindrops pounded the roof, causing an oddly dramatic effect. Biting my knuckles, I tried to shake the feeling, but it wouldn't fade.

Shivering, I had a sudden impulse to go outside. I attempted to ignore it, but it persisted. Twitching now, my body jerked violently against my will towards the door. I frowned at the senseless impulse to go outside. Setting my jaw in determination, I walked stiffly to the cabinets on the wall and pulled out the cold medicine I had brought from home, at the request- and pleading- of my dad.

Taking twice the necessary portion for an adult- an attempt to make it kick in faster- I dragged myself to bed and shut my eyes, not allowing myself to open them. The impulse to go outside only strengthened, however, sweeping over me in waves. I growled angrily with every wave as they rose and crashed like the sea.

'Maybe', I thought desperately, 'if I can focus myself on something else.' I tried to imagine that each wave of longing was a wave of exhaustion, making me more and more tired. That soon I would be overwhelmed. That all of a sudden the sleep would take me like the sun's first edge breaking over the mountains, shedding sunlight over the ground. It wasn't working well.

Eventually the medicine kicked in, and I fell limp in my bed. My dreams were no longer of dying, with flashes of the face. They were only of the face. The face was there, staring at me, a smoldering sadness in his eyes, as it floated, detached, in an abysmal darkness. I had the odd feeling that he had seen more than his fair share of hell in his lifetime. As I watched, I felt a burning welling up in me, as if I was holding back a scream for a very long time.

Of course, then he spoke.