Your Prey Your Obsession

Stella Hart Looking back, I probably should have stayed at the company dinner and booked a hotel. Or listened to my mom, at least this once. Instead, I was driving home in the middle of a storm that seemed to have declared a personal war on my windshield. The windshield wipers were doing their best. But they were losing. “Are you still driving?” my mom asked over the car speakers, and I nearly jumped out of my skin—I’d completely forgotten about the call. I smiled involuntarily. “Yeah… I still am.” “Stella.” “What?” “You’ve been on the road for almost half an hour.” “That’s because I live in the middle of nowhere, remember?” “I remember that you *chose* to live in the middle of nowhere.” I sighed, trying not to take her seriously. “I prefer ‘surrounded by nature.’ It sounds healthier.” “It sounds lonely.” A half-hearted laugh escaped me. People always thought that living alone in a house nestled in the middle of a forest must be depressing. Funny. I used to think the city was depressing. So many people. So much noise. Too many neighbors who, apparently, believed everyone deserved to hear their arguments in the wee hours of the morning. But here… The loudest sound outside my bedroom window used to be an owl with a terrible sense of timing. Officially, I moved because of work. A better job, a better salary… Better opportunities. That was the story I told everyone. The version that sounded *responsible.* The real reason? I never quite knew how to explain it. The first time I came here for work, something inside me… calmed down. As if my brain had been buzzing my whole life and someone had finally turned down the volume. It didn’t make much sense. Just like most things in my life. “So?” my mom asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. “How was dinner?” I grumbled. “It was… awful.” “Oh, come on.” “I’m serious. Three hours listening to rich men argue about numbers that could have been sent by email.” She laughed. “So what?” “So they decided everyone had to drink.” “What? How many?” “…Three drinks.” There was a pause. “Stella...” “What?” “You know you shouldn’t mix alcohol with your medication.” “I know...” “I… barely drank.” I ended up lying to her again. Well… not entirely. Actually, I spent most of the night sipping from the same glass before someone kept refilling it. I sighed. It would have been easier to refuse. It’s just… Damn. I didn’t feel like explaining myself. My mom sighed softly. “Have you been taking your medication?” “Yes.” I answered too quickly. Quick enough to know she’d noticed. Another silence, this time more cautious. “…What about the dreams?” There it was. That question. That topic neither of us liked to talk about. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Outside, lightning flashed between the clouds and trees. “I’m fine.” “Stel...” I cut her off before she could start. “I mean it.” “Did you have any this week?” “No.” Another lie. “I haven’t had any in a while.” More lies. “My sleep is getting a lot better.” The biggest lie of all. I hadn’t slept through a whole night in… honestly, I couldn’t remember. Sometimes, I’d wake up crying for reasons I couldn’t explain. Sometimes, I’d remember things I’d never even seen. Sometimes, I’d feel like I’d dreamed about something or someone important. Then I’d open my eyes and forget everything—forget that person’s face before I even sat up. That torturous feeling remained. For years, doctors tried to put a name to it. Anxiety. Stress. Sleep disorders. Dissociation. One psychiatrist even suggested that the dreams were my brain’s way of coping with loneliness. Maybe. Or maybe my brain just had a twisted sense of humor. The medication helped, I think. Not by making the dreams stop. It just made them vague enough that they’d fade away before breakfast. “You’d tell me if they came back, right?” my mom asked gently. Of course I would. If I wanted another round of appointments. Another MRI, or a specialist looking at me with polite sympathy while I tried to explain memories that shouldn’t exist. “I… promise.” She let out a quiet sigh. “I worry about you.” “I know...” “I just want you to be happy.” That one hurt a little, because I knew she meant it. “I know, Mom.” A clap of thunder rumbled somewhere above the mountains, and the sound echoed along the highway. Instinctively, I reached out and turned off the radio that had been playing softly in the background. Anyway, I’ve always preferred listening to the rain. People think silence is empty, but in reality, it isn’t. Not if you listen closely. The rain. The wind. Branches rubbing against each other. Water running through the ditches beside the road. It was strangely… comforting. Then, while I was lost in my thoughts, something simply appeared right in front of me. Someone. There was someone standing in the middle of the road, under all that rain, motionless as a rock. I couldn’t think of anything; my foot slammed on the brake. The tires screeched and the car skidded violently to the side. “What the hell!” “STELLA!” Mom’s voice disappeared beneath the sound of my own heartbeat. The car finally came to a stop, and everything went silent. I was in shock. My chest hurt, and I couldn’t breathe. My hands were shaking so much that I had to hold the steering wheel with both of them. No... Shit! No, no, no... Not again. I slowly looked back. The road was empty. There was nothing, no one. No one was standing there. “Stella! Talk to me! What happened?” My mom kept calling out to me, worried. I closed my eyes tightly for a second. Please. Not this again. “STELLA?” I couldn’t answer her. When I opened my eyes again, something caught my attention near the shoulder of the road. There was a dark silhouette. It was large and motionless. It didn’t look human. I stared at it. Then I let out a shaky sigh. “…Mom.” “Honey! My love, I’m here! Talk to me—are you okay? What happened?” “I think...” I swallowed hard. “I think there’s something on the side of the road.” I wasn’t sure if it was relief or fear that hit me first. Because, if there really was something there... Then maybe I hadn’t imagined all of this after all.