Hunted by Darkness

There is Nothing There.

Sarah

Her whole body shook, her back against the door. Was she going crazy? They looked exactly like her parents, didn’t they? They had the same hair, the same eyes, the same shape. She had caught glimpses of vacant expressions on their faces a couple of times, but it was so quick, she could just be confused. And even if she wasn’t, so what?

Still, there was no explanation for the shadow she saw after bumping into her father, but it had again been so fast… She couldn’t swear that’s what she had seen.

No, there was nothing wrong there. It was panic, that’s what was happening. She didn’t want to go, and her brain was working extra hours to make her believe something was wrong.

Even if there was, what was she going to say? ‘See those people there, who look exactly like my parents? Well, they stare strangely, and I think the man is a shadow.’ They’d laugh at her, or they’d lock her in a hospital for the mentally ill. Neither prospect was attractive.

She took a deep breath and splashed cold water on her face. She needed to calm down. With effort, she swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth. There was no need to become paranoid, she kept telling herself, slipping into the jeans and t-shirt her mother had given her.

After what must have seemed a long time to her parents, Sarah came out of the bathroom, fully dressed. She had brushed her black curls and was happy with the way they cascaded over her shoulders. It made a change from the bed hair she had been sporting every day during her hospital stay. In her defence, she hadn’t been conscious for part of that.

They received her with warmth. Typical stuff for parents. But she forced herself not to look too hard. It was too scary to think there might be something wrong there. Maybe if she had any memory of her parents from before, she wouldn’t be panicking right now.

Trying to ignore the alarm bells in her head, she kept on repeating a mantra in her head, ‘everything will be ok. Everything will be ok. Everything will be ok.’

They waited in silence for a while. Her parents seemed to be content, one checking his phone and the other reading a magazine she brought over a few days ago.

‘You didn’t bring the tablet today?’ Sara asked for something to say. ‘We could have gone through the photos before we got home, to be prepared,’ she smiled.

Again there was that moment of nothingness, quicker than lightning, then a return to normality.

‘No. I didn’t think you’d want to go through it today of all days.’

Sarah shrugged, both as an answer and to get rid of the shiver running through her body. She needed to shake that feeling. How long could this paranoia last? A few hours? A week? Forever? She hoped not. Leaning back onto the bed, she reached for her book and read.

‘Ah, I see everybody is ready! Good, good. Here is your release letter, you’ll need to give that to your GP. A nurse will give you your medication before you leave.’

He handed her mother a brown envelope and gave her instructions regarding what to expect and when to worry. He was a really nice guy. He wasn’t her consultant but an intern, not as old and grumpy as the other doctors in the unit. Not a know-it-all either. She liked that. He did look tired all the time, no matter when she saw him, but he always smiled.

‘So, if there is anything, don’t hesitate to go to your GP,’ he spoke to her, now ‘but if you have any questions, here is my card,’ he winked.

She blushed and smiled back, pocketing the card with her parents’ eyes on her. The nurse came in as he left, a white bag in hand. She explained, but Sarah knew they were written on each box. The woman squeezed her shoulder and wished her the best before leaving them alone.

All there was left to do was leave. Fear caught in her throat as her parents stood up and grabbed her bags. She hadn’t realised how attached she had become to her hospital room. There was nothing personal there, but it was the only place she knew. She was familiar with the people, the doctors and the nurses. She knew where everything was in the kitchen, even if there wasn’t much there. And there was the spot in the stairs where she sat and felt better. Now she had to go to live in a house she had only seen in pictures.

‘I’m sure you’ll be glad to leave this place,’ her mother said.

She shrugged because she wasn’t, but didn’t want to disappoint her. In the car, she sat at the back, and it was more difficult for her parents to try to have a conversation with her. They didn’t try, anyway. As she looked out of the window, watching anonymous people and places run past her, she wondered with the same pressure on her chest what would happen to her now.

The buildings changed from office buildings and retail to apartment buildings to housing estates. The streets were lined with young trees and children played outside. School hadn’t started yet.

Would she go to school? She had finished high school, that she knew, but nobody had mentioned college plans or university. It wasn’t something her mother had discussed with her. She had friends from high school too, but nobody had ever come to visit. Her mother would have told them she didn’t remember them, and there was no point.

Sarah wasn’t sure how she felt about that. At times, it had made her feel lonely, but most of the time, it just made her feel relieved. There were no expectations to meet, no hopes to extinguish. Her mother had shown her pictures, telling her their names each time, examining her face for any signs of recognition. Not once had she seen a picture of anything or anybody that had sparked any real memories. Yet she remembered how to brush her teeth or get dressed. She remembered about the existence of many things, restaurants, smartphones, brands of makeup and clothes. It had been one of the most frustrating things to overcome after the accident, remembering so much and yet nothing that mattered.

They turned onto a driveway, and the car stopped. She had been somewhere else in her mind for the past fifteen minutes.

Nobody moved.

There was a garage door straight ahead and the house at the side. Made of red brick, the house had two floors. The red door with the golden knocker did not seem familiar at all; neither did the white-framed windows or the cast iron bench at the front. It could be any house.

‘Here we are,’ said her father.

They didn’t move. After a few more seconds, Sarah stepped out onto the driveway. Only then did her parents follow. Her mother pulled out a set of keys from her purse, and her father went to get her bags from the boot. She felt a knot in her stomach as the key slid into the lock and the door opened. It felt as if there would be a big reveal, as if her life was waiting behind the door, she just didn’t know what sort of life it was.

Nothing happened, though. Door number one didn’t have all the answers. There was no flash, no flood of memories rushing back to her. Stairs lead to the second floor, and the living room was to her right. At the end of the corridor, she could make out a kitchen and, through double doors, a backyard. A big labrador sat outside, watching her through the window. Was that her dog? Did he know her? Wagging its tail, the bear-like pet stuck its nose against the windowpane. Her mother let it inside. He didn’t run towards her; he didn’t jump on her or lick her uncontrollably. He just sat next to where she was standing and leaned his big square head against her thigh. It made her smile. The gesture felt reassuring, and she rested her hand on his warm head. He pushed softly against it.

‘Somebody is happy to see you.’ Her father said, closing the door behind him.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Samson.’

‘Like the character in the bible?’

 Her mother had a strange look in her eyes, as if she was struggling to answer the question.

‘What do you want to do now? Are you hungry?’ she asked instead.

Sarah wasn’t hungry; she was nervous. Under her parents’ expectant gaze, she wondered what they were hoping for. The temptation to fake an illness came back, but it always came back to the same point. She couldn’t stay there forever.

‘I’m a bit tired. Would you mind if I lied down for a while?’

‘Of course not! Your room is exactly as you left it.’

Nobody moved again. Two pair of eyes were set on her before a spark of understanding came into them.

‘We’ll take you there, obviously,’ she said more to herself than anybody else.

‘Thanks,’ she smiled.

Her parents led the way up the stairs, carrying her bags. There was a small landing. The bathroom was on the left with the master bedroom. On the right was her bedroom and a spare bedroom. Her door was closed, and the same nervous sensation took over her when her mother turned the handle.

It was a small room with a single bed. The wardrobe was old but covered in stickers, and it was right next to a bookcase and a desk. The walls were covered with posters of movies and music bands she couldn’t remember liking. There was a corkboard over the desk with pictures on it. When she examined them closely, she only recognised herself. The girl with the long brown hair next to her was familiar only because of the pictures her mother insisted on showing her. The boy with the messy blond hair was the same. There were more people on those pictures. Some her mother had labelled with a name, some she didn’t know at all.

It was a nice room; there was nothing wrong with it. That’s what she kept telling herself, but it wasn’t helping. She felt cold in there. It was a painting of a life that wasn’t hers. It was somebody else’s. Was she expected to own this, now? It was difficult to accept that this was her, that she had to embrace this life that she didn’t know and pick up where she left it. She didn’t even know if she was the same person anymore.

‘I can’t sleep here,’ she said after a few minutes of looking around.

‘What do you mean?’ her father asked.

‘I just can’t. This is not my room; it would be like sleeping in somebody else’s room. Somebody dead.’

She turned towards her mother, half-expecting to find her crying, feeling guilty in advance. She shouldn’t have worried though, she was fine.

‘That’s ok, Sarah,’ she said in a calm tone. ‘You can sleep in the spare room.’

Her father left her bags next door. There was an awkward moment in which they all stood again silent, but it didn’t last long, and they left. Sarah dropped onto the double bed and stared at the ceiling. She wasn’t that tired, but she couldn’t bear the constant anticipation, although now she felt it was closer to examination. Their eyes seemed to be on her, and that made her nervous. She pushed away the idea that something was wrong and tried to close her eyes.

She woke up a couple of hours later, her stomach grumbling. When she opened the door to her room, the silence outside made her skin crawl. There wasn’t a single sound. Maybe her parents had left for some errand. There might be a note somewhere. Se thought she would check the kitchen but by the time she made it to the bottom step the TV was on and she could hear noises. There must be excellent soundproofing between floors, she told herself.

Her mother was emptying the dishwasher when she came in. She smiled at her.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Ok, I suppose. I’m a bit hungry.’

‘That’s good! What would you like? There is some roast chicken and green beans from lunch if you want some?’

That sounded fine, she didn’t feel like anything in particular, and she didn’t want to make her prepare something, especially for her. Her mother busied herself getting a plate and loading it with food, before setting it in front of her. Only when she took the first mouthful did she realise how hungry she was. She devoured it all and thanked her mother, who watched her the whole time.

She stayed in the spare room that night, but it took her a long time to fall asleep. She wasn’t all that tired, which didn’t help, but her mind wasn’t helping either. Like in the first nights after realising, she had amnesia, frustration led her thoughts into an endless cycle of questions. Being back to what she was told was her home caused a whirlwind of thoughts that was keeping her awake. Everything demanded of her that she start remembering. As the room became dark, her imagination drew pictures of what her life must have been. After a while, she didn’t know if she was making it up or remembering it.

The darkness became deeper and deeper. Sarah felt very cold and couldn’t see anything. No shadows from any residual light coming from outside, no reflection on the edge of the wardrobe or light under the door. Nothing at all. Her pulse accelerated and fear lodged in her chest, making it hard to breathe. It wasn’t a simple absence of light. There was something physical about this darkness that reached into the smallest corners and crevices of the room. An invisible arm of blackness reached for her now, closing inexistent fingers around her chest, pressing them together. Her heart was beating hard inside her ribcage. She couldn’t breathe. Her arms flailed and felt resistance in the air around her, but she found nothing to grab, nothing to pull. She woke up with a start, her mother standing over her bed, a blank stare in her face, her arms dead at her sides. She didn’t move; she didn’t talk, she just stared, a cold light in her eyes. She fumbled for the light on the bedside table.

When she switched it on, there was nobody there. A cold sweat covered her brow, her heart was racing, and her mouth was dry. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around the room, and it all felt normal again. Or as normal as it could feel.

The house was silent when she went to the kitchen for a glass of water.  Sarah didn’t know where anything was. She had to search every cupboard until she found a glass. Even without the lights on, the kitchen felt bright and shiny compared to the darkness in her dream.

As she turned towards the window, she started, her pulse jumping again. There, in the corner, was the same darkness, tangible, solid and inescapable, an amorphous shape. The glass shattered against the tiles as it slipped through her fingers. The light came on, and the black mass defined itself to be her mother.

‘Dear, I scared you. Sorry!’ she said, smiling. ‘Are you ok?’

‘Yeah…’ she caught her breath ‘yeah, I was just thirsty. You haven’t gone to sleep yet?’

‘Yes, of course. I just heard a noise, and I came to check.’

It would be easy to ask the questions, but Sarah was too afraid to hear the answer. She must have stared, though, because her mother looked down at herself. The woman was still wearing the same clothes she had been wearing all day.

‘I fell asleep all dressed. It’s been a very exhausting few days,’ she smiled again.

‘Sorry for waking you.’ Sarah replies with a shaky voice.

‘It’s ok, dear, just get back to bed.’

She walked her up the steps and into her room. Sarah smiled as she closed the door behind her. If there was a lock, she would use it. Standing still, her breath caught in her throat. Her heart was still pounding, and she couldn’t explain any of it, yet she could feel her mother was still standing behind the door.

Her mother.

It didn’t even sound real. The words didn’t come naturally to her, not even in thought.

The presence behind the door didn’t disappear. It pressed against it; she could feel it move the air around it. Around her. She closed her fingers around the handle. Holding her breath, she prepared to push it. Open the door, she told herself. Open the door.

She didn’t dare.

Instead, she pulled the desk in front of it and ran back to her bed, burying under the duvet, staring with eyes wide open.

 Gabriel

She hadn’t been there that morning. He had waited as long as he could, but he had to leave before her parents arrived. A tightness came over his chest. It pressed down onto his organs as if trying to squeeze them out. It made tears slide bloom at the corners of his eyes, almost as if he were crying. As if he would. It wasn’t sadness; it was panic. What if she was gone? The idea of never seeing her again made his hands shake. He couldn’t let that happen. Not after… after everything. It didn’t matter that he would have to start over. It didn’t matter if she didn’t remember his name or his face or his favourite colour. He would start again.

But what if it was for nothing?

            His phone rang. Checking the name on the screen, he rejected the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. Not now. Not tomorrow either. Hopefully never. This was all their fault, after all. But then, they hadn’t counted with him developing feelings for her, had they? Well, he couldn’t have anticipated it either. Hadn’t he been happy just doing as he pleased, meeting women, having fun with them?

And following their orders had been fine too. He didn’t need to worry about why or how or when. Other better placed, more powerful people were the ones to concern themselves about consequences. Not him. Nine times out of ten, he didn’t even have anything to do. The occasional mission.

            He started his bike, pushing the helmet over his head, always feeling claustrophobic in there. This mission was going to be easy, right?

            ‘Easy, my ass,’ he mumbled to himself as he sped down the road.