My Own Personal Hell

I pick at the fraying edges of the bandage on my finger. I do this without really noticing as I scan the street before me. Nervous tick I guess. I leave my knuckle alone and pick up a paper cup and sip the hot tea within.

Its midday in downtown Rochester Garden, the skies are clear and the streets are crowded. The air has a little bite to it, but still I sit outside the café. I can’t stand the thought of possibly being trapped anywhere. There isn’t a guarantee inside that if I had to run I would find a quick exit. It’s easier to escape if I am already outside. Precautions like this are required now that I’m back in Rochester Garden. I feel wrong being here, I’m breaking my own rules, I’m putting myself in danger.

So why am I back here?

I pull my hood over my head and draw it snug around my neck. I do this not against the cold, but against the eyes. Every day, for countless weeks, maybe months, I have felt something, someone, watching me.

It all began with a dream, when I met a girl. In the middle of summer, on a warm night, I slept soundly for seven straight hours. In those seven hours, something strange happened, in my dream everything was dark, but she was a white light. Not once have I ever dreamed that someone was there with me. She seemed to be looking for something, then she turned her head and saw me, and then she looked happy. She reached out for me, then I woke up.

Since then her gaze has never quite left me, every waking hour of the day I am being watched. The feeling is stronger now that I am in Rochester Garden, Where they can find me. I’ve spent so much time trying to get away from them, I can’t let them catch me now. But I have to find the girl.

The sounds of the city blend together into a blur. I snap my thoughts back to the present and go back to analysing the streets. I sip my tea. I look behind me at the café window. Each person in there is cozy and quaint, so warm and innocent as they drink their brews and nibble their crispy scones.

I liken it to the feeling of not being quite sure if you’ve truly woken up from a dream or not. Now and again I have to wonder if I really did wake up, if I’m still dreaming. But that would explain how things are strange, stranger than usual.

Something happens to me from time to time. I can’t explain it, they can’t explain it, but I hope beyond hope that she can explain it. That’s why I’m back in Rochester Garden.

When I remerge from my thoughts I realize that I have been staring, a little too fondly, at a waitress. I go back to facing the streets. My ears perk up at the sound of laughter. I turn to look to my left, to the next table over, where there’s a family eating lunch. Seeing them encourage a small child to wrap her hands around a sandwich triggers a thought in me, when was the last time I ate? I think back, it wasn’t last night and it wasn’t this morning. Sometimes I can become so engrossed with running that I ignore everything else, even hunger. I have to keep better track of this. I was lucky the first time I fainted from this condition, this time I could get caught.

But not here, I decide. It’s better not to stay in one place for too long.

“How are ya?” A waitress appears and asks in a bright voice, “Can I get ya anything else?”

I didn’t notice her approach me, I figure it’s the lack of sustenance that’s making my mind wander. I do notice that she’s the waitress I was caught, accidently, staring at earlier. Her name tag says ‘Kerri’.

“No.” I get out the automatic response. I don’t notice that she had asked me two questions, neither does she. She nods, and glances at the street before asking, “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Kind of.” I say without really thinking. I look away from her face as she forms her own understanding of what I meant and is assuming. I can feel her looking at me more thoughtfully now. I look down at the cup in my hands and hold it up to her.

“You can throw this way for me.” I offer, she accepts.

“Yeah, sure.” She says with a smile as bright as her voice. When she turns away I stand up, when she looks back I’m gone.

...

Around 5pm in the day, the sky is a darker shade of blue, the streets are a dirtier shade of gray, and the civilians flock in greater hordes. I notice all of this as I shuffle along with the crowd. We all flow like a river in the direction of the subway where the stairs are the waterfall that we cascade down. I walk with my hands in my pockets, my shoes make a tapping sound as I descend the stairs. The dimly lit stairs, I take special notice of. I hate the subway, I hate the dark, but it’s the only way to get back to Isabel’s. I’ve been out long enough, it’s time for me to disappear.

The lighting doesn’t change further below from the stairs, it’s all a dim yellow-green. Down here, the tapping of my shoes becomes multiplied by the hundreds. The tapping adds to the cacophony of the numerous other sounds the crowd is making. And altogether the sounds reverberate off the close-together walls and the low ceiling. It’s the ideal scenery to be invisible in.

When I approach security I let a few strands of my hair fall in front of my face, obscuring my features. Through blonde-brown strands I peer at the guard, he doesn’t give me a second glance.

Finally, I arrive at the station to wait on the platform. I hope I don’t have to wait long. The tunnel before me is dark, the darkness looks endless. Whatever could be lurking in there wouldn’t attack, not while it’s still day out, not while there are so many people around. I remind myself that I am armed and equipped to defend myself, so there really is no danger here. But the dark is still something I distrust, and it doesn’t hurt to stay out of it. It may even save my life.

I go further to assure myself that I am safe by thinking that even their territory ends somewhere. Since I returned to Rochester Garden, I’ve made sure to stay far out of their perimeter. Taking measures such as renting a room on the other side of the city. Though, being in their turf might be the safest place in the city.

I used to belong with them, I made the city safer with them. But that was before, before they found out something was different about me. Something neither of us could explain. There is something that happens to me…

A train appears in the tunnel, berating the platform with harsh noises and whipping winds that throw my hair around my face. I awaken from my thoughts and stare at the train rushing by. The cars are brightly lit, making it easier to for my eyes to scan over the passengers. In the first car I look in they’re all seated. In the next one there’s more people and some are standing. The next car has more people standing, I notice that they’re looking in my direction. That car passes, in the next car all the passengers are standing. I get a funny feeling about them, I hope I’m wrong, but there’s something strange about this situation, there’s something strange about the ‘people’. There is something wrong with the way they were smiling.

The train leaves the station, my hair settles wind-blown on my shoulders, but the feeling of unease stays. I re-evaluate my surroundings, I turn to look behind me. The people all look the same from before. It appears nothing’s changed, situation seems normal. Then I catch the gaze of a security guard. This time he stares at me. I turn away, an urge to run sprouts in me. The eyes from the dream become muted, they’re replaced by an approaching presence. I can’t stand here anymore, I start walking towards the nearest exit, and I don’t look behind me. A word is spoken and resonates within my mind, it shouts, it commands me, “RUN.” My feet pick up on the platform, I hear the guard shout from behind me, “Stop right there!” I weave through pedestrians, each turn to get a good look at me, all they’ll see is the back of my hood. I run as fast as I am physically capable of. Now that I am back in Rochester Garden, I have another thing to avoid besides them: Cops.

I reach the edge of the platform and make a rash decision. The exit will take me up a flight of stairs where the guards can catch up to me if I trip. That’s one risk too many so I jump off of the platform into the tunnel. A few onlookers gasp, I dash away from them down the tunnel. I’m not sure if the guards are following me, I don’t stop to check. As I go further into the tunnel it gets much, much darker. This is bad, I now regret leaping off the platform.

There’s not much to be afraid of in the dark but a few things. One of these things is ‘The place’. I keep on running through the tunnel, it’s completely dark now, and it looks just like ‘The place’. This is what I don’t like about the dark, I can’t tell if this is normal darkness or if I am in ‘The place. The longer I am in the dark the more desperate I am to get out. The uncertainty of whether I’m still in the tunnel or not grows, I just need to see the light. Something to show me that I’m still here, not there, anywhere but there…

I have to get out. I have to get out, I think frantically, it’s the only thing I’m focusing on. I see it. Suddenly I see the literal light at the end of the tunnel. It’s the yellow-green glow of the next station. I pump my legs harder to get myself there faster. In no time, I jump to reach the ledge, then I hoist myself over it.

The train must have already been through here, I think. The station is completely empty. I don’t want to stay and ponder the whereabouts of the passengers, I want to leave. I find the exit and ascend the stairs. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, my legs ache and I feel sluggish as I force myself to put one foot in front of the other. My mind wanders and I don’t notice the tapping of footfalls till I reach the top step and see them running towards me. It’s the guard from earlier with four other guards here to get me. Except now I’m starting to think that they’re not really guards.

The want to catch me, I won’t give them the chance. I forget about the aches and pains and climb onto the railing of the stairs. Next to this staircase is another one that goes higher up. I put all my strength into my legs to vault myself into the air, high enough to reach the other railing above. I grab it and lift myself up. Now on that railing, I run up it away from the guards that follow me on the stairs. I plan to lose them by getting far enough up the stairs that I won’t get hurts jumping off it, once I jump off I’ll run in the opposite direction.

While running my foot slips off the edge. My leg drops through thin air and my body follows. I throw my hand out to catch the railing but instead my hand slaps against the wall. I don’t find anything to catch my fall, I just drop. In mid-air I turn to my side to help with the impact. The fall is short and I connect with the ground. The breath is knocked out of me. I writhe on the floor gasping, I know the guards are closing in on me now, but I can’t will my body to move, I just wheeze and cough. I wait, and I wait, but they never come. I catch my breath then I wearily lift myself off the ground. I now realize why the guards never came.

The station had been a dim yellow-green, dim but you saw your surroundings. This world is dark. What little light there is, is a deep purple. I begin to shiver, my breath is visible in little violet plumes. It’s always cold in this world. But I don’t shiver from the cold exclusively, I shiver from the horror of where I am. Where I am now is neither here nor there, and you can never find it on any map. This world is a reality of its own. It’s always dark here, it’s always cold, and this is where nightmares live. This is ‘The place’.

I must have been transported to here while I was falling. I can only imagine the look on the guard’s face when I was there one moment and then I wasn’t. Completely disappeared into thin air. Now I’m alone in the most forsaken pit of Hell.

On shaky legs, I stand and look for a way out. I was lucky enough to find them before, I can find them again now.

Something happens to me from time to time. Without notice, or by my free will, I am transported into this realm. It started years ago, in that house. It never did happen before the incident. After that I left and found them, they took me in, made me one of them. But I just couldn’t hide it from them. They found out my secret party trick after many incidents. One second I would be there, the next I was gone, all right in front of their eyes. They confronted me, normal human beings don’t do this. I’m not a normal human being. And just like that, when neither of us could explain what it was I was doing, I became what we hunted. But I ran before they could get me, and I’ve been running ever since.

I have been running, until I had the dream, and now there might be someone out there who is just like me. And I will stop at nothing to find her. I will find a way out of here, I think as I hold myself tight against the dark. I bring my thoughts back to the present, back to the pain in my shoulder, back to the cold in my fingers, back to the fear in my chest. I hold myself tight to make myself smaller, less likely to be found.

Before I entered ‘The place’ I was in the subway, now, I’m somewhere I can’t identify because it’s too dark. To my right is a row of high-up windows, the purple light emanating from them don’t reach far, I can hardly see in front of me, so I just follow the windows. I step slowly, I step lightly so my boots don’t make a sound. Most of the time it’s quiet here, it’s pretty rare I come across anything in ‘The place’. When I do, I never want to come here again.

She isn’t real, I can’t make her real. This thought plagues me, of course I’ve come across the possibility the dream meant nothing and I am just paranoid. This is my own personal hell that I share with no one. I’m alone in the dark, it’s only a desperate hope I have that I’m not. I hope I’m not, I hope she’s real. I need her to be real, I’ve been alone here for too long. I can’t survive for much longer on my own.

I’ve been walking for an hour now, the windows go on and on, there’s no change. I feel something behind me. But the funny thing is, I’m not scared. Because it’s the eyes, she’s watching me again. It feels much stronger here than in Rochester Garden. It feels like she’s right behind me, not only watching, but ready to reach her arm out and tap me on the shoulder. I stop where I stand, I feel like if I turn around she will be there, shrouded in white light.

I begin to turn my head, a blue light catches my eye instead. Blue, not purple. I snap my head toward a window and see it. It’s a bright ball of light, like a shooting star it glints across the violet sky.

We all have instincts, most to keep ourselves from harm. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and arms, you get goose bumps, that’s how I sense sinister entities. I don’t feel it now. For the first time ever, I feel warm here.

The blue star falls below the edge of the window, I lose sight of it. I sprint to the wall, of course there’s no door, but I have to find a way to get to the other side. I feel the texture of the wall, it feels like brick. My fingers find little empty spaces in the mortar. I reach my arms high up and find a hold, they ache, but I push it out of my mind and focus on climbing to the window. My arms quiver as I lift myself off the ground, my shoes find footholds in the brickwork and I climb. When I’m about 15 ft. up I reach the window and lift myself into it as it doesn’t have glass. Now I can see the other side from the perch.

I see Rochester Garden and above it, high up in the sky, is a purple ball of light. A black sun. It’s the city I know, but it’s empty of people and its dark, every surface is shrouded in a deep purple hue. This doesn’t make sense to me, the world is two different places at once. It’s the human world inside ‘The place’. This has never happened before, whenever I entered ‘The place’ it’s never the same twice, in all the forms it takes it has never assumed the setting of a city of the human world.

I step off the ledge and land like a feather on the street below. This world doesn’t follow the rules of physics or gravity of the other world, so I don’t land as hard as I should have. I straighten myself out, I recognize this part of the city. This is Kingsley St, the entertainment district. I walk down the street, I see a video store, gas station, arcade, and a fast food restaurant. When I reach a large building I stop. Something to my left draws my attention to it, I look down an alley, and I see him. The blue star is a person. I stare at him with my mouth agape but all I see is his back, he glows with a light like the girl from my dream. But I’m awake. He’s real, there’s another person in here with me. I’m not alone.

I take a step toward him, and walk into cracks and fissures in the space before me. They break and right in front of me in the air orange and purple lights erupt. My arm breaks through it, then my body follows. I’m sucked into the light as they get brighter till they blend together and become white.

I cover my eyes with my arm, my legs find a standing. I hesitantly lower my arm, the light is still white and it’s blinding. Gradually my eyes adjust, warmth spread in my fingers, I realize that I am back in the human world. I look at my surroundings, I see shelves of… cat food. I look behind me, I see dog toys. Down the aisle a man walks by pushing a shopping cart. I’m in a grocery store. I look up and see a security camera and realize that there is now a video of me appearing out of thin air. Great.

Before I walk out of the store I catch the time, 11:49 pm. It was 5 pm when I entered ‘The place’, I’m sure I wasn’t there for six hours. Time is funny there. I walk outside, the air hits me like a gust of ice. The sky is black, it’s night. Still, it looks nothing like ‘The place’, the moon is silver.

I was so close to him, I was nearly there. I has a chance but it slipped away. It fell away, this fact settles in the pit of my stomach like a well of despair. I decide I’m not going to let it fall away from me so easily. I look at where I am, downtown is east of here. I fish for my bus pass in my pocket and find a bus stop.

...

I step off the bus on Kingsley St. The entertainment district is still as colourful at night as it is in day, maybe even more so. The sidewalks are full of kids. I push pass them.

The aches and pains in my arms and legs are near overwhelming, my exhaustion is almost unbearable. Each breath is a strain against my sore ribs, and my head is pounding. I’ll have a lot to recover from later, but for now I have to find something out

I pull my thoughts away from my conditions when I approach a large building, it turns out to be a movie theatre. I look to my left down an alley, to the exact spot where he was standing. I position myself there, I look around, I don’t know what I am expecting to find, there’s nothing. I find nothing.

Maybe he did fall away from me. He was here bit I missed him. What do I do now? My breath is shaky, I sniffle and rub my nose. I hang my head low and disappear.

...

I open the door and pocket my keys. It’s past midnight by the time I finally arrive at Isabel’s but I don’t try to be quiet. There’s no point, the door and floorboards creek and groan regardless. Isabel sleeps like the dead anyway. The house is dark, except the living room where I find Isabel. The TV is blaring but Isabel’s snore is still louder. I walk through the living room to the kitchen where the staircase is, the room I rent is upstairs. I’m just about to leave the kitchen when I become so lightheaded I have to steady myself against the doorframe. It washes over me in heavy waves then it passes, I am able to pull myself up the stairs but it overcomes me in the doorway to my room. I take a couple step then collapse on my bed.

“Tahlia, wake up! Tahlia, wake up!”

I pry my eyes open, at least one of them, I wake up with a strange sweet taste in my mouth nearly face down on my pillow. As Isabel commands I lift myself off the bed, but I find that my limbs are stiff. I stifle groans against my protesting limbs and shuffle towards the door, awkwardly, since I slept in my boots. I open my door partway and squint at eccentric, Jewish, 64-year-old Isabel Hermann in all my morning glory of mussed slept-in clothes, dirty tangled hair, and just awake scratched-up face. But none of this fazes Isabel Hermann, she just screeches, “What are these gang signs on my wall?”

Downstairs in the kitchen we stare at it, probably the strangest thing to grace Isabel’s robin egg blue walls. From what I can discern from it is only a bunch of squiggly lines written in a dark viscous substance. I approach it and gingerly swipe my finger in it, then Isabel proclaims, “Its chocolate sauce.” I bring it close to my face, smell, and she’s right. Someone had left us a message on the wall in chocolate sauce. But what does it mean? “I don’t think these are gang signs.” I tell Isabel.

“Like you’re the expert.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “But I didn’t do it, Howard didn’t do it, maybe you can tell me what that is then, huh?” She adds.

I take a step away from the wall to get a look at it from a distance. If I had written this then I don’t remember, I’m sure that I went right to sleep after I came back. I try looking at it from different angles, I turn my head sideways, then the other way. In that position I believe I see the number three, I turn my head upright and now it looks like an E. I look at the two other symbols next to it, they look like upside down numbers. 3:50, a time? I spin around to look at the rooster clock above the stove, 7:12. It must be the morning, the sky outside is a bright yellow-orange. I have seven hours and 38 minutes to go.

I turn to Isabel and say, “I can clean this up.” She drinks her coffee while eyeing me, then walks past me to the living room, telling me, “Make more coffee while you’re at it.” Before she leaves to sit in front of the TV.

I walk over to the sink and grab a towel, wet it from the faucet, and begin on the wall. Had I written this on the wall? What is going to happen at 3:50? I try to wrap my head around the situation and look past all the questions. I finish with the wall and throw the towel in the sink, then prep the coffee maker.

I step back into my room after a shower, throw the towel I was using to dry my hair on a chair, and dig through the closet for a shirt. I pull a dark sweater over me then look at the bed, I see something under the pillow, and I pull it out. It’s a bottle of chocolate sauce, it’s empty, and I didn’t use the whole thing on the wall. I remember the sweet taste in my mouth that I woke up with, that’s it, I ate the rest.

I frown and throw the bottle away, then I get a thought. It’s obvious now that I wrote the message on the wall, but I don’t remember doing it. I remember coming here then going to bed. But I got light headed. I was woozy, what happened during that time? I was so tired last night my mind must have fallen asleep before my body did. Then my subconscious mind remembered something that my exhausted conscious mind couldn’t register at the moment. I realize that I saw a premonition in ‘The place’. It was telling me that at 3:50 pm today I will find him here, in the human world. My spirits pick up, I had not entirely lost my chance. He hadn’t fallen away from me.

...

I prepare some precautions for the events of today, I grab a piece of chalk from my desk then sneak into Isabel’s room and sneak a silver coin from her bureau. Armed with these articles I leave the house without saying a word to either Isabel or Howard, the other tenant.

I take the bus to Kingsley St., I arrive at the alley 20 minutes early just to be prepared. I feel butterflies in my stomach, this is where I am going to meet him. But I don’t really know what he is yet, he is like me no doubt, but he could also be something else. So I feel great anticipation for what will happen in the next half hour. A breeze creeps up on me, I pull the hood of my jacket over my head, the one with the black vest and gray sleeves.

I find where he was standing when I saw him in ‘The place’ and crouch beside where I am sure he was exactly. I pull out the piece of chalk and draw the sigil. He will run, or he will attack, either way, I am prepared. I finish it up and stand to make sure that it’s correct, I pocket the chalk.

3:39, 11 more minutes now. I pace my surroundings, memorize it, I might have to use the scenery to my advantage. After I map out the place I settle in a dark corner of the alley, now I wait. Suddenly I become nervous, I pick at the fraying edges of a bandage on my finger without really noticing. I can’t really put my money on what will happen in the next 3 minutes, nothing is certain, that much I understand. But I do know that after today, nothing will ever be the same.