Blade (Ch.22)

Blade (Ch.22)

22
“Eli, drive,” I ordered him, my breath short and tight. I stared gruesomely into a pair of menacing red eyes above a grim, toothy smile plastered against the car window that he hadn’t noticed yet.

“It’s not quite warm yet,” he said, flipping his hand around the air vent.

“Just drive!” I repeated. In Mauve’s hand was the knife he pulled on me the first day I saw him near the grocery store, spattered with crimson that ran down his hand and the car window from the rain. My urgency was prominent, and Eli seemed to notice it, but he didn’t ask why. He stopped messing with the air vents immediately, pulled away from the curb without looking where I was, and hit the gas. Mauve fell into the gutter, laughing. Inhaling the water streaming across his face that rushed in his direction downhill, and still laughing all the same.

I jerked my gaze away from the window and the horror scene we’d left behind and tried convincing myself it wasn’t real, when it had been. Very real indeed. How could I ever think that my senior year was like one long horror movie, when this was ten times worse? My senior year was something like a murder horror, in that category at least, which didn’t tend to be as creepy. You could get over them, because it was just blood. Not something you were afraid would meet you at every turn, even in your own house or with people who you thought could protect you all your life when they couldn’t; not from everything.

This was like watching The Grudge, or some other mutilated ghost movie where you think for a long time after that you’ll find that face under your covers at night when your eyes are pried open and the insomnia kicks in, or that you’ll feel his icy hand weaving itself into your hair while you wash it. That you’ll turn the corner and there he’ll be, disgruntled face and all, his insane cackle ringing in your ears. How did I sleep at night now when I couldn’t after just watching that movie? Being in it was an entirely different circumstance. I was afraid that he would find me alone somewhere and kill me, but I feared more the thought of seeing him everywhere when I least expected it, considering that Mauve didn’t appear interested in killing me at this time; he seemed to be toying with me like a cat might with small prey before it dies.

Eli didn’t ask any questions until the car came to a halt out front of the apartment. My fluttering heart came to rest once I could see a place I would be safe, or at least a place where I falsely thought I was well protected. The car’s engine halted, and Eli removed the keys with one slow movement.

“I saw a figure in the window when I pulled out,” he said unsurely. “Was that who’s been after you?” He looked vaguely terrified. I knew he wished I would tell him no; that he was just some New York creeper admiring our window with his blade, but I nodded anyway.

“Mauve,” I murmured hoarsely.

“Is that his name?” he said. I nodded again. “If you knew his name, then why don’t you tell the police, Jen?! They could find him and put him down forever if—

“It wouldn’t make a difference. I don’t know his last name, anyway,” I interjected.

“Come on, how many people are named Mauve?” he snorted. “You should have told one of the officers, Jen! That could have made the difference! This has to stop!”

I flashed him a look that suggested I knew what I was talking about. “It won’t work, Eli.”

He wanted to protest, but no words escaped his mouth. I opened the car door, and proceeded to step out. “I’ll see you at school Monday. And don’t worry; I’ll be fine, okay?” Rain greeted me as I exited.

“Okay,” he uttered in response. I heaved the car door shut and hurried inside, away from the wet. Tom slept in his chair when I entered, newspaper folded over his lap, so I quietly hung my wet jacket on the door, put my rain boots outside under the eves, and climbed the stairs to the spare room where Bean waited, stretched over my bed. He watched lazily as I sat in the office chair and booted the computer up, but didn’t move from his spot.

As a distraction to erase my mind of the horrible imprinted image of Mauve, I decided to play solitaire so my focus would be sucked up in winning the game, and not on how I was going to escape the growing nightmare. It worked, too, for awhile. I played game after game whether I won or not, because the consequences of quitting and leaving my mind to wander I feared would be dire.

“How’d it go?” Tom asked from the doorway too suddenly. I jumped violently.

“Good, good,” I breathed. “It was fun, coffee was good.”

“Anything special happen?”

I stared at him, confused. “No, were you expecting something to?”

“Well,” Tom said, rocking on his heels, “he’s a nice guy, and coffee’s pretty big—

“No, heavens no, Dad! We’re just friends, I promise you; it’s not like that.”

“I said the same thing to my father about Cherrie, and look where that got me,” he countered, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

“You two divorced, so that doesn’t count,” I snorted, turning back to the computer screen. “We’re just buddies, that’s all.”

“He seemed to really respect you when he talked to me about you,” he added as a final attempt.

“Feeling’s not always mutual just because one person’s into it, and he isn’t anyway, Dad. Any friend respects another friend.”

“Are you restricting yourself because of the devastation before you came with me?” he inquired, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I haven’t been looking for anyone, period. So no, I’m not restricting myself. I don’t like him like that, and I don’t like anyone else like that right now. As if I could even if I was,” I moaned.

“Moving on is a part of life.”

“It’s not that easy.” I got up from the chair, and walked past him to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower to warm up, okay?”

“What is it about him you just can’t get over?” Tom interrogated. I turned and looked him in the eye.

“I told you the relationship was getting serious,” I began.

“Yeah, and?”

“I was his fiancée, Dad. There. His freaking fiancée, and then everything fell apart. We were going to get married on Christmas Eve, and then it all collapsed on top of me because I couldn’t deal with the fact that he didn’t beg me to beg you to stay, and he really didn’t care either way once your decision was made. How would you feel?” I wailed. “How would you feel when you thought you meant the world to him, and then he goes null and void because I have to go for awhile, and suddenly he wants nothing to do with me because of that?” I didn’t burst into tears, but I swelled inside as if I was about to. I stared him hard and cold. He gazed back, feeling my pain.

“I would feel hurt and betrayed,” he murmured. I wasn’t really expecting an answer.

“I put my heart and soul into him, and he turned it down,” I spat. “And now I’m just…lost. Nothing’s the same without him, and I wish none of that ever happened before I went, because now I’m hopeless.”

“You’re not hopeless, Jen.”

“You don’t understand, Dad. I am hopeless. One point of light in a field of tar.” I turned back to the door, and took the handle.

My turtleneck was in the wash on Monday, and I woke up to find that Bean had used my scarf as a plaything. I couldn’t wear something with rips and loops hanging off it from his claws, so I put on my jacket, and went to school, bruises exposed. It was the worst feeling to know everyone’s attention was directed to my neck with boggled eyes, instead of a casual passing glance at me in general. Eli seemed to be the only one that looked at me in general in the morning, and I was sure he encouraged Chuck, Prudence, and the others to do the same, because they completely disregarded my injuries.

My Trig professor failed to do the same, though.

“Jenna,” she whispered as I scribbled in the margins of my note paper. I glanced up at her, expecting a reprimand for doodling. “Jenna, can I talk to you for a minute after class?”

Great, I thought. Busted. But she didn’t look angry with me, so I wondered. After class, I stuck around as asked.

“Do you have a boyfriend you live with, or parents that you live with still?” she questioned. “Maybe a husband, even?”

“No,” I laughed half-heartedly. “I live with my Dad.”

“Does he…drink?”

“Not anymore,” I promised her.

“Does he beat you?”

My jaw dropped, and I glared at her, baffled.

“You can tell me anything, dear,” she reassured me quickly.

“No! He wouldn’t do such a horrible thing! Are you asking about the bruises?”

“Yes, it looks like someone strangled you. How did those come about?”

I sighed raggedly. “Did you hear about the guy who drew a knife on me as I came back from the grocery store? It was all over school, or so I heard.”

“I heard,” she said, listening.

“He’s been…after me. He assaulted me at the animal shelter where I work while I was on an…after hours shift,” I admitted. “The police are out looking for him, but he’s still after me.”

“My dear,” she gasped, standing from her desk. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, really. As long as I’m never alone, I’m okay.”

“This must be taken care of! He’s putting your life in jeopardy!”

“They’re working on it,” I said. “They’re doing the best they can; that’s as good as it’s going to get right now.” I smiled, and she stood in silence. “I’ve got to split.”

I took off, and she didn’t protest even though I still had quite a bit of time before my next class and she knew it. I met up with Eli heading to his next class through the hallway, said hi, and dawdled for a bit outside before making for the next classroom. A few stray people wandered around me, but I lingered in one area of the campus alone for the most part. The mere feeling of being unaccompanied by someone sent shivers down my spine, yet nothing happened to me for the rest of that day, or the next day, or the next week, or for the rest of the month. Good things happened—Basil started going easier on me when he saw that I’d been hurt and found out how, which was a relief, and I made friends with a newbie to the animal shelter. But nothing having to do with Mauve occurred, and at the dawn of April, I began to think—or hope, rather—that he moved on.

The first weekend of April started with a group get together. Friday evening, Chuck, Prudence, Dylan, Eli, Mandy and I gathered at an Italian restaurant, ate, and talked up a storm until dusk. Eli walked me up to my car so close that I thought he considered getting in and riding shotgun. He was still worked up from seeing Mauve in action for the first time, and knew that I couldn’t be alone because that sparked an opportunity for danger. I assured him, though, that I thought it was over, and that Mauve had drifted.

“Why would he just disappear so fast?” he scoffed. “Have you ever heard of lying low and then striking when a victim least expects it?”

He might have been right, but I still didn’t want to believe Mauve was still lurking, watching, waiting. He seemed to impatient for a surprise attack that would take months to perfect.

I slept in late Saturday morning, which became a problem for time since I had work that day. I had at least an hour to take a shower and get ready, so the shower part (which was usually the highlight of my mornings) was quick and rushed, leaving more time for me to dress, comb my hair for what it was worth, and brush my teeth. I could hear Tom turning newspaper pages downstairs as I squeezed toothpaste onto my brush, and stared into the sink, toggling it between sides of my mouth. When I looked up again, I wasn’t alone in the mirror.

I saw Tom behind me, staring at his own reflection, but something was not right about it. His eyes were not blue, and his wrinkles were not homely. I spun around.

“Dad, I thought you were—

I talked to nothing but empty air. Nothing. And I think that’s what frightened me most. I must have been delusional in that moment, for when I looked back at the mirror, Tom’s image was gone. I shook it off easily enough though, thinking it was only my imagination, like anybody would have done, popped the toothbrush back into my mouth, and stared at the sink drain again. I spat, rinsed the brush, and tapped it on the edge of the sink before tilting my head up again.

My scream rang against the tile, and I fell back into the bathtub, having seen Mauve for the first time in a month or so. He smiled from the mirror only in a grim manner, staring me down with clouded eyes as I realized how hard I fell against the ceramic on my elbows. I came to the edge of the tub painfully, looking away from the mirror at my knees.

“Jenna! Jenna are you alright?” I heard Tom holler, pounding on the door. “Unlock the door!”

But I hadn’t locked the door in the first place. Cold, unrelenting hands touched my shoulders. I shot up from the edge of the tub, seeing Mauve in the mirror again, and knowing he was behind me as well, making the reflection. I hammered the door with my fists, too; the lock was jammed. Mauve’s fingers wove through my hair, and it was then I started to cry.

“Daddy!” I yelped, holding onto the door handle as Mauve clasped my jaw line with his hands and drew me backwards. “Daddy, help me PLEASE!”

Tom panicked; I could hear his breath get short and heavy. He must have quickly caught hold of the first object available, and started to pound the door down with it, or at least that’s what the loud, cracking noises sounded like. Mauve yanked my hand loose from the handle and forced me to face him.

“You’ll die,” he told me vengefully, “you’ll die just like the rest of them did. I haven’t forgotten.”

I tried peeling his fingers away. “Daddy!”

“I’m coming, Jen! I’m coming, don’t worry!” he answered. I seized a razor from the sink, and whacked it up his arm and across his face. Mauve seemed to laugh so hard that he let go of me on accident for a split second, but it wasn’t from pain. I could whack him up worse, and it wouldn’t make any difference; it only made him crazier, happier.

“You actually can fight back!” he cackled as I slipped around him. Not that there was anywhere to go. Before me there was wall and window, and that was it. But a window just big enough for me to fit through. I desperately ripped off the blinds, and took an oversized shampoo bottle from the tub edge. And I swung it. Just like a baseball bat.

It did nothing at first, but I figured whacking the glass with all my force and adrenaline would crack it eventually, faster than Tom could break down the door. If the bottle proved to be too weak, I would try kicking it. Mauve didn’t appear even half-interested at first. I whacked and kicked the glass about fourteen times each before if cracked and I had some hope, and Mauve decided to do something about it. He spun me around, took the collar of my shirt, and sent a fist to my face.

I shrieked and put a hand to my eye where he struck, but refused to break down entirely. It’s not like I could have, anyway; Mauve still had my shirt in his fist.

“Stay with me, Jen! Talk to me!” Tom grunted, bashing the door that didn’t budge again and again. All I managed to say to him was a disgruntled whimper. Mauve backhanded me, and bashed my head against the window.

“Works better than a shampoo bottle, doesn’t it? I could break this window easy with just your skull!” he bellowed hysterically, maiming me again with the back of his hand. I used all of my body strength to push him forward, and used the bottle that still hung in my useless hand to deliver one final blow to the window. The glass shattered and scattered, leaving room for me to fall through when Mauve pushed back.

Unlike the first time I fell from a window, this time I landed on a cloth retractable window shade that Tom had installed to keep the sun from beaming into the living room. I came to hard ground after rolling off it, unable to catch anything that would ease me down gently, but it wasn’t as bad as falling directly from the window to the dirt. I could get up sensibly, and run for anyone close enough to help. Mauve was chasing, just like any demon always did.

If I ran down the street calling for help, I was dead for sure. So I ran back to the front door of the apartment, and went inside, running directly into Tom. I locked my arms around his waist, sobbing in terror and pain. He practically squeezed the air out of me he held me so tightly.

“How did you…? Did you jump from the window? I heard the glass crack…and what in the hell happened to you?”

“I need to go, Dad…I need to go home,” I said imperatively. He took my face in his hands and looked at me like I was insane, but I wasn’t. Mauve was out of control, and nobody could protect me here. No matter how much Tom liked to think he could guard me from anything, he could not, and if I stayed here in his hands and the hands of my friends, Mauve would stop toying eventually and kill me.

“You are home,” he said, shaking my face slightly. I held onto his wrists with my hands.

“No, I have to go home,” I croaked. “Not only do I still miss that family, but they can protect me, Dad. And I’ll be safer there than here.”

“I can protect you, Jen, or at least I’m trying—

“It doesn’t work that way,” I told him, “it just doesn’t. You can protect me from normal things, but this isn’t normal, Dad, it just isn’t. There are some things that you can’t know, that you just can’t. They can protect me in ways that you can’t without hurting yourself.”

“You need a doctor,” he murmured suddenly.

“I don’t need a doctor, I’m not speaking nonsense!”

“I don’t believe that you’re speaking nonsense, Jen. Your eye is black and your cheek is bruised and cut, and you just fell from the bathroom window. There’s glass shards stuck in your skin in some places.”

“Oh,” I whispered, “oh.”

“We’ll talk more later; I need to call the police and we need to take you to a doctor.”

“Heavens, Thomas, is everything alright?” a woman asked at the door outside, near where we stood. “I heard your window shatter!”

“Jen, is everything okay?” Mandy prodded frantically. “My mom heard the glass crack, but I saw you on the ground under the window…”

I glanced back at the door to see Mandy and her mother, the neighbors across the street from at least four different houses, and the neighbors on our side of the street, all of them at least. Mandy’s expression changed from confused and frightened to horrified.