He was dreaming. But he was on his feet. Outside Adyans mart on 14th street. Still. Waiting. Neither could he see anyone nor could anyone see him. The only exception was Rika, who was at this moment leaving the store.
He followed from a distance.
She pressed her hands close. Walked with small steps. She was focussed entirely on keeping her eyes frozen to the front.
He was seeing all of that, and feeling tickled. The amusement wasn't his, of course. And strangely, that was infuriating. He had two distinct feelings inside, one his own sympathy for her, and the other Shade's curiosity and anticipation.
She took a long time reaching home. He paused outside the building, for the briefest moment. And then continued, while Shade stayed back. He followed her up the stairs, and into her flat. He was by the door as she walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.
He had only blinked, and it had grown much darker. It was the middle of the night. And there were noises from inside the bedroom.
He walked into the flat, to the balcony. Felt Shade's gaze. Followed it to Shade's face hidden under the silver hair and behind the night. But not from him. He looked into Shade's eyes as he absorbed all the features.
*
Back in the hotel room he was at the table. Grey eyes glued to the wall. Hand sketching on the notepad. The picture of Shade appeared on the page, a picture that could have been a photograph. A face with all the features clear and complete.
And when he was done, the pen slipped out of the hand, clattering to the desk. The eyes were still grey, still glued to the wall. And he spoke in a voice that was his, but also the slightest bit different.
"Why?"
*
Having found Shade's eyes, he smiled. As if in greeting.
Shade flinched. Almost fell back. And then, got up and began walking away, speeding up with every step.
He looked at Shade's receding back, and smiled wider.
"Found you," he said, no louder than a whisper, yet certain that Shade had heard him.
Then, he turned around and went back in. And then, as he passed by the closed door of the bedroom, he paused. The moment stretched on, but he remained paused.
And then, he heard the question in his voice.
"Why?"
"I don't know," he answered. "I want to help. I feel like I must."
*
He wasn't surprised. He didn't fully understand. But he didn't question. He simply accepted it as it was.
"Are you sure?"
*
He nodded. He stepped toward the closed door. And that single step tore him apart. He was here, now, in Rika's flat. The other him, was in the hotel room, looking at this now through the notepad.
He smiled.
"I feel like it'll be okay."
And he reached for the door.
*
"It will be okay," he repeated.
He was back in the hotel room. On the notepad was the sketch of the flat. Of him standing in the night, reaching for the closed door, smiling. He nodded, and turned to the previous page.
Shade looked young, like he had only just stepped into adulthood. The silver hair sparkled in the night's light. The eyes were a lighter grey, not very distant from the silver of the hair. And small. And beady. The nose was small, as were the lips, and the ears, and all of his face. Shade looked harmless.
But he wasn't fooled. Shade was anything but innocent. And wasn't it the best look for a monster.
"I've seen you," he said to the sketch. "And I'll find you too."
*
He reached for the door, the door that was aglow in purple light originating from behind, from inside the closed room. The doorknob was cold to touch, like an ice cube that had only just slipped out of the freezer. And underneath the cold, was a much colder and ominous darkness. A darkness that threatened with ill intent, but only served to amuse him.
He pushed the door open. And stepped into the light without hesitation.
*
She had her head against the wall, hands covering the sides and eyes closed as she counted to ten. Neither fast nor slow. Just right. Her father was hiding. She was seeking. And a game was most fun when played right. When she opened her eyes, she heard the voice from behind.
"It's okay to speed up a little. It's not cheating. Only increasing the excitement a little."
She was frightened. It wasn't a voice she recognized. And when she turned around, there was no one. Just the afternoon sun and the long shadows.
She held back the scream and ran to find her father.
She didn't know why she was thinking of that afternoon. She was hiding under the bed. The quietest she was ever. The most afraid she was ever. Including that afternoon. The horrible man was downstairs. Searching. And she was up here. It was no game. And she was happy to be thinking about anything else.
"There was someone up there father. Behind me. Telling me it was okay to count faster. It was no one I know. Really father."
Her father hadn't believed her, of course. Still, they went up to the hallway where she was counting. And then they searched the entire house. There was no one.
"It was probably the shadows," her father said. "The afternoon shadows are so long. And they have such long voices too."
She believed him. Nodded sincerely, as she looked hard at the shadows. Her father laughed, clueless about how right he was.
The shadow had grown to be a part of her life. Watching everyday from a distance. Whispering to her when she was alone. Or scared. Or simply wanted to hear it.
"I'm here."
Just two words that meant so much more.
"I'm here."
The shadow was right behind her, under the bed. She nodded, the briefest joy filling her, and the tears slipped out. She was still trembling, but not as hard. She wanted to reach for the shadow. She wanted to feel safe.
"Why don't we look out the window?"
Why, she thought. But she rolled out from under the bed and headed to the window.
"Look, how high do you think we are?"
She felt like they were higher than the stairs. The ground was so far below, she could never reach it from the window.
"And look there. Who's that? Mrs. Parker?"
Mrs. Parker's silver car had just turned into the street and was slowly driving over.
Mrs. Parker was their neighbour. She'd been living here longer, and knew everyone in the neighbourhood. She wasn't the president of the neighbourhood association, but only because she didn't want it. If she did, no one else would even stand up against her for the election.
Mrs. Parker had three sons, the oldest was seventeen and not the least bit cute according to her. The youngest was seven, and was already following his eldest brother. Not cute at all. The second was her joy. He should have been born a girl. But god willed that she wouldn't have a girl, and so he became a boy. Still, the boy loved everything his mother liked, and hated everything she hated. It was like she was born again. And so, Mrs. Parker loved Rika.
"She's got a pie too many."
She nodded. A memory floated into her head. A memory that wasn't hers, and yet felt far too familiar.
She heard the voices. One her father's. Another Mrs. Parker's. She heard, "pie". She heard footsteps coming up. She had to hide. Wanted to. But she couldn't move. Even if she couldn't cry, the tears flowed endlessly. The door opened, and Mrs. Parker stood shocked, scared, before screaming and running over.
Later, she remembered Mrs. Parker telling the police that she brought a pie for her, and saw something was very wrong with her father, and got scared, and rushed up to find her in that terrible, terrible state. That was the end of the nightmare.
And now, Mrs. Parker was parking her car.
"What are you to say?"
"Help," she answered.
"No," came the cold answer of the shadow. "You want to be more dramatic."
She heard the footsteps. Her father. Coming up the stairs.
"Save me," she said.
"That's right," whispered the shadow. "Now."
She jumped out the window. Crashing to the ground just as Mrs. Parker stepped out of the car. Mrs. Parker came running over, without caring for the bags that had slipped out of her hands and spilled to the ground. And when Mrs. Parker reached her, she spoke the right words.
"Save me."
Both looked up to see her father at the window. Mrs. Parker was shocked, and a little scared by the look of madness in the father's face, and held her close. "Let's go," Mrs. Parker said, and helped her away.
She saw the shadow behind her father. And smiled. She felt safe. Protected. Loved.
*
She neither saw nor felt the shadow again. Until years later.
She was at Adyans. It was just another day. And then she felt a familiar gaze. Her father. The man was dead. She was certain of that. She could also never be mistaken about the gaze. His gaze. It felt like bugs were crawling up and down her spine. Like something disgusting was feeling her up. She felt like vomiting. And like her insides were churning.
And she also felt nice. Because she was certain the shadow was near too. Her father had returned. So, the shadow would return too. And she cared more about the shadow than her father.
When she couldn't stand the disgust, she had to rush to the bathroom. Lock herself in a cubicle, and vomit till there was nothing left to vomit, and she was still not done. And then, she stood in front of the mirror, looking at the woman with tears streaming down, pain painted across her face with broad strokes, and yet smiling and with a glow in her eyes. And that was what mattered truly.
"Where are you," she asked, as if expecting an answer from the mirror.
And disappointed when there wasn't one.
Back at her flat, she was in bed. Asleep, after a long struggle. And she felt him. Her father. Leaning over her. Breathing onto her. Grabbing her. Lifting her off of the bed. Holding her up against the wall, her feet high off the ground. Leaning in, his face inches from hers.
"Been so long," he said, in a cold, disgusting voice.
She smiled, looking behind him.
"You're here," she said. "I knew you would come. I was waiting."
The shadow grabbed her father's arm, pulling him away. She fell to the ground, in a heap.
The door opened. And someone stepped in. The someone was the shadow. She knew. And she saw the shadow dissolving into the someone. And she saw her father breaking apart into tiny specks of black that then burned away into nothingness. It took a whole long minute for her father to completely disappear. And then, he, the someone, the shadow, sat on his knees in front of her. A soft, warm hand, wiped the tears off of her face. And a gentle, warm voice spoke.
"You're okay now. Take care."
She knew what the words meant. It was goodbye. And she wasn't ready. Not yet.
"I'm Rika," she said.
"I know," he replied. "I've known all along."
"Can you tell me your name?" she asked expectantly.
"Mike," he said after a while. "Goodbye now."
He was gone before she could say goodbye.
"Mike," she repeated.
She sat staring at the darkness that had not too long ago been Mike. Committing every bit of his face to memory. And when she had his picture in her head, she said again.
"Mike."