Chapter 9

     A week passes by in a blur of uncertainty and paranoia. With every sound and sudden movement I jump in fright, expecting him, that monster, to be there with a wide toothy grin on his half-covered face. I’ve taken to locking myself within the walls of my room, sneaking out to use the bathroom and only doing so whenever light fills every inch of the apartment. All I do now is curl up into myself, my memories recalling my monster’s visit as I wait for the inevitable; refusing to fall asleep until I can no longer keep my eyes open. 

     Mitchell knows something is wrong, even pleads for me to tell him but I never do. I can’t. Not when he’s already thinking I’m teetering on edge. Every morning, afternoon, and evening he brings a meal to my room; only knocking the door to signal his arrival before slipping away back down the stairs for me to eat in peace. I can’t imagine how much it must worry him that the plates remain untouched and go to waste. 

     This goes on for two days until I finally gather up the nerve to answer the door after he knocks. I still didn’t eat it all—barely enough to count as a meal—but it was enough to make Mitchell smile. Unfortunately, as soon as I let him back in the questions started up again. I want to tell him, to release this burden from my shoulders but in doing so I know it’ll only make things worse. He has already shown that he cannot see the monster that terrorizes me. There is nothing he can do to help. 

**** 

     Something light brushes across my cheek as I drift in and out of my half-awake sleepy state, the movement making me groan in annoyance when the feather-like touches refuse to leave. I swish my hand over my cheek, hoping to knock off whatever it is before snuggling back into my covers. But, again the light touches continue. Traveling down my cheek to my neck and resting on the jugular vein. Fluttering my eyelids I gradually drift away from the land of sleep and draw my gaze up, ready to snap a remark at Mitchell for awaking me. Instead, I come face-to-face with the monster in my dreams. 

     A grim smile pulls back the gray skin surrounding his mouth, the familiar gesture anything but friendly. I still as his fingers drift back up and lightly brush my cheek. A small whimper escaping me as the touch becomes heavy and I’m able to feel the chill his skin holds. Black consumed eyes stare down at me, reflection nothing of what the creature is thinking. 

      “I’m coming for you soon, Shae,” he softly whispers, his hand cupping my face, “You won’t have to wait much longer, love.” I squeak in surprise as the monster comes closer to me, his face hovering just an inch above mine. 

      “P-please…” I whisper, voice cracking, “Please, leave me alone.” 

     The man in blue tenses, the hold he has on the side of my face tightening to an almost painful hold. A dark chuckle echoes in my ears, his breath cold like ice. I stiffen and try to sink further into my bed, closing my eyes in the hopes that he’s just in my mind. A pair of lips kisses the bridge of my nose and his voice rumbles, “I must have a nibble.” 

     A strong hand harshly grips my wrist and I open my eyes in shock. The scream rising from my throat cut off by the other hand muffling my mouth. My eyes drift up to my capturer and I scream despite the appendage over my lips. Rows upon rows of sharp teeth gleam down at me, the gums a violet purple with a black tongue slithering within. 

      “Just a nibble,” he speaks, “Just a taste.” 

     Slowly, deliberately the monster raises my wrist to his face, causing me to kick and scream. I want out! Out of this nightmare! But it’s of no use and he begins to thoroughly lick the lower area of my forearm, the hazard-shaped teeth grazing across the delicate skin in forewarning. The ends of his lips twitch up in a smile as I continue to fight back and with another chuckle a sharp pain sinks into my skin. 

     A scream is ripped from my throat as the muscle pull and tear; small rivers of blood flowing down my forearm and dripping onto my sheets. Tears spill down my face as I thrash against him, making him growl in response. Then slowly the pain becomes numb and the man in blue retracts his mouth from my now mangled skin. That black tongue leisurely licks at the wound, his body shaking as if in ecstasy. Black eyes turn up to meet mine and in a voice so soft he whispers, “Good girl.” 

     I can only let out chocked sobs in reply. 

     Abruptly, a pounding sounds from my door. The doorknob quickly twists open and allowing the fluorescent lightening from the hall to pour in. I blink back the tears and feel my stomach churn in a nauseous tide pool of disgust and fear. Mitchell stands in the doorway, his heavy breathing meeting my ears. 

      “What’s wrong?” he asks, dashing to my side, “I heard you scream.”

       “Mitchell! I…I…he…” I trail off as I glance back to notice nothing but empty space around me. Not a single sign that the monster was here. I look down at my wrist, expecting to see the same mangled skin but a smaller bite meets my eyes. Little bloody imprints lying next to the bruises. Turning back to Mitchell I cringe when I see the pitying look on his face. His eyes set on my arm.

       “Shae, what the hell did you do to yourself!” I sob in reply.

      My roommate quickly grabs one of the shirts lying on the floor and wraps it around my wound, a string of curse words leaving his lips with each movement. Mitchell looks at me with sad eyes and slowly says, “Shae…honey, get dressed. We’re going back to the doctor.” 

     I hastily push away from him. “No!” I cry, “I won’t! There’s nothing wrong with me! I-it’s the monster! The man in blue.”

     His expression hardens. “Shae, I’m sorry, but this is not a choice. We’re going.”

**** 

     The psychiatrist hums in thought as his tired eyes look over the clipboard in his hands; just a few sheets of paper holding the fate of my future, my diagnosis. Mitchell squeezes my hand in reassurance but I can’t bring myself to look at him. Feeling both betrayed and scared. If only he could see. 

      “Miss. Gresham,” the white haired man begins, “I’m sorry to say but I believe you do have schizophrenia. Now, ah, ah, ah, before you reply let me explain. It is not severe and can be handled through medication and therapy.” 

      “Your diagnosis is wrong!” I hiss at the old man my voice becoming quieter with each word, “There is nothing wrong with me.” 

     The doctor looks at me with an expression of pity. “I am sorry but the signs are there. You’ve been having hallucinations about monsters, have shown extra distrust in both me and your roommate, and Mitchell here has told me that you cooped yourself up in your room for a few days refusing to not eat nor take care of yourself. No to mention that nasty bite on your arm.” 

      I glance down at the gauze wrapping around said wrist, the numbing pain from the bruising underneath reminding me of it’s presence. “I…it wasn’t me. That wasn’t me.” 

     The doctor lets out a weary sigh and I begin to shiver in my seat. There’s no way I didn’t imagine that. There’s just no way. “Shae,” Mitchell says, making me turn my attention towards him, “We just want to help, please. We can at least try right? Please? 

     My heart drops, weighed down by guilt and despair. I’m not crazy. I…I’m not. But that man… 

      “Will I not be able to see him anymore?” I quietly ask.

      “Who Shae?” 

      “The monster in blue.” 

     An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air before the doctor finally speaks, “Yes. He and every other hallucination you’ve been experiencing will disappear within a few days of taking your prescription.” 

     The old psychiatrist bends down to open a drawer pulling out a white cylinder medicine bottle. Placing it gently on the desk he says, “This is an example of a bottle containing the antipsychotic drug Zyprexa. I’m going to write a prescription for it for you and would recommend that it be taken once a day before bed after an evening meal; the directions will be on the bottle if you forget. It would be wise to look into joining some group therapy as well. I can give you the number of one in this clinic along with the times and days they meet.” 

     I give a short curt nod in reply. The doctor writes the medication on a prescription pad and hands it to Mitchell, a nod of understanding passing between them. I allow my mind to wonder, as the two talk a little more before Mitchell motions for us to leave; the ride home awkwardly quiet. 

     Arriving at our apartment I stomp through the door and up the stairs to my room, hastily trying to get away from my roommate and friend. Slamming the door shut I lock the door and fall down on my bed, burying my head into the pillows and sheets. Letting out a few uneven breaths I slowly turn to look at my wrist where the black mark lies. The little bud has grown, the small vine once peeking out now encircling my wrist completely. 

      “Shae,” Mitchell calls from downstairs, his voice muffled, “Come down here to take your medication please.” With a huff of annoyance I narrow my eyes at the door.

      “Please Shae?” I hear him call again, “If not for yourself then for me. Us. Your mom and everyone else? Please? We just want to help.” 

     His voice begins to crack as he speaks, the final words ending so faintly I could barely make them out. Letting out a deep sigh I move my gaze back to the mark on my wrist and push myself from the bed; my mind made up. Hoping that against all odds this medication will help. 

**** 

     The next few days passed by without any incident. Not a flicker in the corner of my eye nor the sound of the man in blue’s voice and the anxiety I had felt began to slowly be smoothed away. By the end of the week I could hardly recall my nightmare and the delicate design on my wrist was beginning to slowly disappear. Even now, as I wash the dishes from this evening’s dinner it’s nothing more than a shade darker on my skin. 

     Mitchell has already left for work, finally comfortable enough to leave me on my own. Drying off my hands I walk over to the cabinet and pull out my medication and take my daily pill before heading into the living room, humming a cheery tune. I quickly turn on the TV and begin watching the daily marathon of overly dramatized doctor entertainment shows. Halfway through however the TV begins to break in and out, a few lines of static appearing on screen before the image disappears. 

     Letting out a groan in discontent, I get up from the couch and walk over to the malfunctioning device. I check the wiring but nothing seems to be wrong. Then like the flick of a switch the TV show returns and I shrug my shoulders, eyes glued to the screen. Must have been something with the cable. 

     Shuffling backwards I fall back onto the couch only to land with a loud thud on a solid piece of sharply angled furniture. Letting out a squeak in surprise, I instinctively shoot up only to be pulled back down by a pair of long arms clothed in the sleeves of a blue suit. 

     I immediately become still, cold breath fluttering down my neck as a hoarse laugh echoes in my ears. The arms hold me closer and slightly turning my head I come face-to-face with the clothed chest of the monster of blue. My heart begins to pound rapidly in my chest as I gaze up into those dark soulless eyes. A wide Cheshire cat like grin on the gray toned face. 

     A blue rose is trapped between the canines that fill his mouth, the stem oozing with a strange black liquid as the hazardly sharp teeth bite into the black flesh. Lifting one hand he breaks the end with the flower off before swallowing the remains and offering the flower to me—the end of it still leaking. 

     Gently the creature pushes back my red locks and places the rose behind my ear; the ends of the thorns poking warning against my pale flesh. 

      “For you love,” he whispers placing a soft kiss on my forehead, “I’ve missed you but don’t worry. We’ll be together soon.” 

     I can only whimper in fear. 

_______________________________

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