Chapter 3

    My shrill bounces off the bathroom walls, making my ears ring. A hand swiftly covers my mouth, a strong arm pulling me close to a male's chest. My breathing hitches, my panic rising when I hear a familiar gruff voice say, "Damn Shae, do you have to bust my eardrums?"

     Anger immediately replaces my fear and I claw the hand away. Snapping my head up, I glare up at my roommate and best friend—Mitchell Outland—and bite out, "You scared me Mitchell."

     With a low laugh he releases me and runs his fingers through his short brown hair, a five o'clock shadow covers his angular jaw; making him look older than twenty-one. "Really now? I thought you were just screaming for the hell of it."

     Folding my arms, I continue to glare at the young man. Our eyes interlocked until I finally blink, a small smile forming on my face when he comments, "Ha! I win."

     I playfully shove the lean male. "You really scared me, Mitch," I say, my voice lowering as the images in the mirror flash through my mind, "I...I thought I saw something."

     Mitchell lifts one of his dark eyebrows. "What did you see?"

     I point to the mirror. 'Hello Shae' still clearly imprinted in the fog. He laughs. "Shae, you watched me write that on there."

     I quirk an eyebrow in confusion. "N...no you didn't.  It wrote itself."

     Mitchell's lips form a thin line as he raises a hand to my forehead. "You sure you're not coming down with something? Because you where standing right here when I wrote it and you were laughing. Maybe you need some rest?"

     I stare blankly at him trying to understand what is going on. Maybe my brain is making up things from insomnia again. After a couple of sleepless weeks it's bound to happen. Promising to myself to go to bed early tonight, I nod my head in defeat and agree, "Yea, rest might do me some good. Sorry that I...spaced out?"

     With a nod, Mitchell pats me on the head and retreats from the bathroom, pausing in the doorway with a smirk on his face as he glances over his shoulder. "By the way, you look smokin' in that towel."

     I flush at the comment and automatically grab for my hairbrush on the counter. With deadly precision, I throw it at the jerk, who ducks and laughs. The young man wisely runs off, calling back, "I'll be in my room if you need me, carrot-top."

     I take a deep breath as his door slams shut, and quickly change into the clean clothes. Forcing myself to head to my room instead of downstairs to the TV, I lock my door and climb into bed, snuggling into the plush comforter. My eyes flicker to the vanity mirror on my dresser, a sudden uneasiness grabbing ahold of me. But, shaking it off, I click off my lamplight and easily fall into a deep sleep.

**** 

     Pulling my maroon scrub shirt down, I dash down the stairs and into the kitchen—my stomach letting out discontent growls. The TV plays faintly in the den, the daily news white noise to my ears. Mitchell must've left it on last night after I went to bed. His sleeping pattern almost as bad as mine. Opening the fridge, I pull out already prepared bacon and boiled eggs and begin to make myself a plate when I notice a plate at the far end of the isle counter.

     A plate of blue sugar cookies.

     Breakfast momentarily forgotten, I walk over and pick up one of the sweets. Holding the treat delicately between my thumb and forefinger as I inspect it.

     "Mitchell!" I call out.

     "Yea?" Mitchell yells back.

     "Did you make cookies this morning? Blue sugar cookies to be specific?" 

     I hear the laugher in his voice as he replies, "Umm...no. I don't remember making 'blue' cookies, and I'm pretty sure they'd be contaminated if I make them."

     I quickly drop the cookie. "So you didn't?" I ask once more.

     "That's what I said."

     Annoyed by his reply I bite back, "Then where in the world did we get blue cookies? I didn't make them or buy them and neither did you." 

     "I don't know, Shae."

     Hearing some fumbling upstairs, I turn to see him stomping down the stairs before hopping on one leg as he tries to get his boot on. "Where are these blue cookies you've been yapping about?" he asks, slipping the shoe on.

      I point down to the plate in front of me. He looks down at the plate then back up to me with eyebrows raised. "There's nothing there, defiantly not any blue cookies. It's just an empty plate."

      My eyebrows furrow, my mouth opening and closing. Looking back down at the plate I can clearly see the sweets. I can't blame it on a tired brain this time so what is it? I glance back up at my friend, frowning my brow in suspicion.

      Is he playing a prank on me?

      Mitchell shakes his head and heads back upstairs. "Shae next time you want to see me in the morning before you go don't make up stupid stories about invisible blue cookies."

      I huff. "I didn't make it up so I could see you before I go!"

      "Whatever you say, Carrot."

     His footsteps become distant; the soft click of his door shutting barely registering in my mind as I gaze back at the blue sugar cookies.

      "But, they're really there." I mumble to myself.

**** 

     I leave for work in a hurry, the idea of getting away from the strange occurrences in my home refreshing. Even dealing with Dr. Cook is better than dealing with the fact that I'm seeing things that Mitchell isn't. Hopefully, he's just really trying to mess with me.

      Throwing back the off blue hospital curtain, I walk in to meet an older lady. Her grey hair is frizzy and standing up in awkward positions, brown eyes holding an unfocused gaze. I clear my throat and her gaze slowly drifts up to mine; the pupils of her eyes dilating when they land on me.

     "Dear child, what have you done?"

     "Excuse me?" I politely ask.

     "You must watch out child. He is coming for you, for you hold his mark there on your wrist." I glance down at my wrist, seeing nothing but the white flesh.

     "There's nothing there, ma'am." I look back up to see her sitting there unfocused and lips moving without a sound. Her wrinkly hand clench tightly against the bed sheets, the beeping of her heart monitor picking up in speed.

     "Ma'am, are you ok?" I ask as I reach out and touch her shoulder. 

     The lady drags in a breath before her wide eyes swing up to me. "He had me once. Yes, once, but...I got away...I got away." The lady reaches up and grasps a handful of her grey hair. "He'll come back for me. He won't let me go. He's coming for you too. You made a deal with him and now you'll never be free."

     A little shaken I quietly ask, "Who is he?"

     Instead of the answer I seek she goes off rambling. "Little children should learn to behave. Eat too many cookies and you'll get a visitor. If he wants something...you should say no. Or your life is his...forever."

 _______________________________

Thanks for reading!

Check out our website: http://monsterofblue.wix.com/monsterofblue

Tell me what you think in the comments, or tell me what needs to be fixed. Please vote if you liked what you've read. It keeps me motivated and know that you guys, my lovely readers, are liking what I'm doing here.

See you next Friday/Saturday when we update!