Eyes

Red eyes. As Alex glanced into the mirror in front of her, red eyes behind her caught her attention. They were off to the side of the room, lurking in the shadows. Was she seeing things? No, she was certain they were really there. A few blinks of her eyes and they were gone, but the feeling of being chilled to the core didn’t go away. For now, she pushed it out of her mind, shrugging it off.

           

Days passed and nothing happened, though the red eyes were always there, always in Alex’s reflection, watching her. They seemed to follow her from place to place, always lurking. Always waiting. Strangely, with each passing day, Alex noticed them getting closer and closer. Were they moving? Were they really even there? She could see them, no doubt about it, but other people had never noticed anything in her reflection. Nothing out of the ordinary. She shrugged it off once more, blaming it on exhaustion and labeling the eyes a “delusion”.

           

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. The eyes were still there, and closer than ever. Any time Alex would look into a mirror, they were right there. Right beside of her reflection now, close enough for her to see the irises and details of them. After the third month, strange things began to happen. Scratches appeared on Alex’s skin, night after night, getting deeper as time progressed. Banging sounds would suddenly be heard in her room in the middle of the night, keeping her from getting any sleep. There was no more shrugging it off. This was real, whatever it was. She knew she had to stop it.

            

 After heading to a local library, Alex sat for hours, reading, studying the paranormal books in front of her. All signs pointed toward one thing – the banging, the scratches, the eyes that seemed to be staring into her soul. She was dealing with a demon. It had apparently attached itself to her for some reason, to which she was clueless. It was after her, and if she didn’t stop it, it would lead to one thing. Possession. Taking cues from the books, Alex headed to a local store and started gathering the supplies she knew she would need. Salt. Anything with crosses on it.

           

After hours spent in town, Alex eventually returned home, entering through the front door cautiously. Salt in hand, she began lining her bedroom door with it, then her window, leaving no entry ways. Very quickly, she placed hooks on the wall and adorned them with metal crosses, a plaque with the Lord’s Prayer, and lastly placed a Bible under her pillow. The air was calm and she didn’t feel the usual panic that her room seemed to bring on. Taking advantage of this, she fell asleep, curling up in the middle of her bed.

           

Around midnight, the bedroom door slowly creaked open. Alex was startled awake, sitting straight up upon hearing the noise. “Hello? Mom? Austin?” No answer. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness rather quickly and opened wide in shock at the sight in front of her. The salt that had been lining her door just mere hours before had been kicked out of place, scattered across the floor, leaving a straight shot into the room. A growl somewhere close to Alex’s face snapped her back into focus. Turning her head to the right, she saw it, but it was too late. It was already on top of her before she could scream, and she finally saw them once again, the crimson red irises that had haunted her nightmares along with her reality for the past months of her life.

          

 The creature was horrifying; it was hard to even look at without feeling physically ill and terrified for her life. It was large, with crimson red eyes and it seemed to come straight out of her nightmares. Its hands worked their way around her neck, long claws dragging along her throat. Alex kicked and clawed at the thing, managing to force her way out from under it. Scrambling, she fell to the floor and jumped up as quickly as she could, beginning to run. Through the bedroom doorway. Down the hall. Chase ensued, a growl and the sound of hooves on the wooden floor echoing throughout the house.

          

 Run. It was all she could do. So she did. Down the staircase. Through another hall. Halfway through the living room. Thud. Alex’s body hit the floor hard, the sound reverberating through the room. Groaning, she glanced back at her ankle – it had caught on a rug and brought her down. Stunned, she tried to crawl along the floor now, but not fast enough. A hand grasped onto one of her legs, then the other. One scream. That was all she could get out before it began to pull her back. Before there was nothing.

          

 Alex woke on the floor, taking in her surroundings. How had she gotten back into her bedroom? She distinctly remembered being chased by something. Where was …? Her room seemed clear, all of the horrible banging noises ceased to exist. Maybe it had been a nightmare. That was the only logical reasoning for it. Yes, it had to have been a nightmare. Breathing a sigh of relief, Alex stood and walked over to the mirror. Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, she smiled at her reflection. Peace. She felt it for the first time in months. Off to the kitchen she went, having missed the bright red irises staring back at her in her reflection.

Patricia Massari - 9/11 Redo

Beep. Beep. Beep. I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock echoing throughout my bedroom Tuesday morning. I’d only gotten four hours of sleep after spending a long night studying. College was kicking my butt, but I kept telling myself it’d be worth it in the end. At the end of the bed stood my wonderful husband Louis; he had busied himself with ironing my clothes, making sure they were perfect. “Good morning,” I smiled and rose from the bed, grabbing my purse off the floor. Heart racing and stomach fluttering, I crossed into the bathroom and locked myself inside. I had a pregnancy test to take.

I made my way to the toilet and ran through the procedure, body trembling the entire time. I was late – weeks late. It’s not like it had happened on purpose; we hadn’t planned this. We hadn’t tried to make it happen. It was entirely unexpected. On one hand, I wanted nothing more than to be a mother. I knew I was going to become one sooner or later… but Louis and I had decided on later. Excitement and nervousness coursed through my body, turning me into a jumbled up mess.

The test was laid upon the sink as I waited for the news that could possibly change my life forever. Glancing down, my eyes locked on my stomach, wondering for a fleeting moment what I would look like with a tiny baby bump. What if there was a baby inside of me? What if it was in there, growing, just waiting to make its big arrival? If I was pregnant, what if something happened to the baby? I was still in college! I had a job, and school, and a husband to juggle all at once. Wouldn’t adding a baby to the mix throw everything off? I was only twenty five and had only been married for two years. It was too soon, wasn’t it? Minutes passed before I found the nerve to pick up the test and look at the tiny window, but somehow I did. The little pink plus sign made my breath catch in my throat, my eyes widening in shock. “Oh my-“ I couldn’t even finish the sentence. I was pregnant.

My thoughts swirled around my mind and I sat there, dazed and shocked that this was even happening. Tears pooled in my eyes and I tried so hard to hold them back but it was no use. Crying was inevitable at this point. I was pregnant. I was going to be a mother. Would I be a good mother? Was this for real? I had no answers. With no reason to wipe my tears away, I walked back to where Louis was. “Louis…” I choked on my own words, trying several times to just force out what I so desperately needed to tell him. “I-I’m… we’re… having a baby.” Silence. My words hung in the air, a surprise for the both of us. “What are we going to do?” Realization set in and the look on Louis’s face was priceless. It suddenly clicked and he knew he was going to be a father.

“Trish, don’t worry. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.” Louis sounded so sure of everything he was saying, and that comforted me. Even in times of crisis, Louis was my strength; he was my comforter that always knew how to make everything better. He dabbed at my tears, wiping the streaks off my face and kissing along the place where they had just been. “I want this baby. More than anything. This is ours, and I love it already. Even though you’re freaking out, I know you love it already, too.” His tone had transformed from one of shock to pure excitement. “I-I know. It’s just so much to take in at once,” I mumbled with an exasperated sigh.

Louis nodded his head in agreement. “It is a lot to take in… and we didn’t plan this. I know we were waiting, Trish. I know we had this all figured out, but sometimes things just happen. This is happening. This is real.” He was straight to the point with his words and I let them sink into my mind. Though we weren’t one hundred percent certain that this was really happening, I was certain that I had reason to believe I was pregnant. My emotions over the past couple of days suddenly seemed to make sense. The only logical explanation would be the obvious one – I was pregnant. “We don’t know for sure…” I mumbled, not even able to convince myself of that fact anymore. “Then get another test. Stop on your way to work.” So I agreed to do just that.

“Now I’m going to be late for work if I don’t get dressed,” I changed the subject quickly. Louis handed me the clothes off of the ironing board and chuckled. “I made them perfect for you. Now, go get dressed.”

I walked back into the bathroom and changed from my pajamas into the outfit Louis had picked out for me. The smell of waffles drifted into the room and my mouth began to water. Smiling now, I walked toward the kitchen, slipping my shoes on and grabbing my purse on the way. “I’m making you a quick breakfast,” Louis grinned, taking the waffles from the toaster and dousing them in syrup. He handed me a fork and slid the plate toward me. “Eat up, my dear.”

Twenty minutes later I was back on my feet and rushing toward the front door. “I’ll pick up another test on the way to work. I just want to make sure. I’ll call you once I take it.” Louis kissed me goodbye and I began my walk down the streets toward work.

A couple blocks down I walked into a store and picked up another test, my thoughts rushing through my mind. Was I really going to be a mother? The thought both terrified and excited me. Would I be a good mother? Would I know what to do? Would my baby grow up happy and healthy? Would our lives change forever?

My mind was a mess by the time I made it to the North Tower of the World Trade Center and walked inside. The elevator ride to the ninety-eighth floor was long and I let my thoughts continue to rush through my head. Of course I’d love the baby, if I really was pregnant, but was I ready for something like that? Was I ready to be responsible for another life? Anticipation made me nervous as the elevator slowed to a stop and I stepped onto my floor.

Marsh & McLennan had become my home away from home. I had been working as a capital analyst at the firm for a while and I absolutely loved my job. Waving at some of my coworkers, I made my way to the employee restroom. My hands trembled as I reached inside my bag and pulled out the pregnancy test. This was it. This was what would let me know if I was really going to be a mother.

I walked into a stall and hung my bag on the back of the door before opening the box and going through the test procedure for the second time that day. Now if I could just wait five minutes…

Those five minutes were the longest five minutes of my life. Fingers still shaking, I picked up the test and glanced down at the little window. A little pink plus sign glared up at me, but this time I didn’t cry. The immediate swell of emotions didn’t show up this time. This was real, and that both excited and terrified me beyond any describable extent. I had so many things to do. I would have to find a doctor and get everything checked out. I would have to tell my family… when would I tell my family? How long was I supposed to wait? My first real order of business, though, was to call my husband and let him know that this was all happening.  

Walking back out of the restroom, I went over to my desk. According to the clock on the wall it was 8:42 a.m. Perfect! Louis would still be at home. Smiling to myself, I dialed the home phone number. As soon as I heard him answer, I began to gush about the good news.

“I’m pregnant! We’re pregnant! We’re having a baby!” There was no denying my happiness in that moment.

“We’re pregnant? You’re positive?!”

“Yes! I just took the second test. It’s positive.” I nearly squealed, grinning ear to ear.

“Oh, Trish, we’re going to be so happy. Such a happy little family,” Louis replied.

“I know we will be,” I said, but my train of thought was cut short.

It was 8:46 a.m. Something in the background caught my attention. It was a sound that did not belong.

Something told me to look toward the window.  My heart was pounding, frantically trying to beat out of my chest.

One of my hands went to my stomach to lay there, protectively. The sound of an engine humming echoed in the distance. It was moving closer. “Oh… My… God-” The line went dead. It was in that exact second that the entire building trembled from the impact of the plane hitting.

The building shuddered once again – it felt like the entire thing was going to fall in, or maybe that was just the floor beneath me giving in. My hand dropped instinctively to my stomach as the floor caved in beneath me, never moving the whole way down.

Spectrum.

     In the spectrum of past, present, and future, I myself am currently caught in all three. As silly as that may sound, it is possible. I reflect on my past, I try to live in the now, and I try to look toward my future with hope. Doing this is one of the hardest battles I’ve ever fought – one that I often find myself losing – but I’m still up for the fight.

            

     My past is one of the driving forces that pushed me to exactly where I am right now. I have endured a lot in my sixteen years. I have felt so much pain and sadness, certainly more than my fair share, and I have learned to let go. I went through a time when I felt so much, I blocked everything out. I became numb. But this was a mistake – not letting myself feel was a bad decision and I lost so much time because of it. But, now I can look back on my past and reflect on it.

     Yes, I see it for what it was – a time of great stress and pain and hurt and so many different emotions. Yes, at times I am a bit obsessed with it, but honestly, who isn’t? It’s a little hard not to be when the memories play through your mind on a loop, constantly there so you can never forget. But forgetting is not what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to keep moving forward. Those images are there to push me. 

     They say that you can either run from your past or you can learn from it. I spent the last four years running from mine. Not too long ago I tried to permanently escape from it. I was going in the wrong direction – my past is not there to forever remind me of the mistakes I have made. It is a guiding tool. It shows me where I have been, where I’ve gone wrong, and where I should go. I see now that I need to let go, break all of the chains, and just move on.

     Speaking of the present, that’s my current battle. I am fighting for my present, as cliché as that sounds. You would think that just living “in the now” would be simple enough. After all, you just survive the days, right? Wrong. So wrong. It’s a constant fight. Every single day I am fighting my demons, the demons that keep trying to drag me back down just when I think things are getting better. Sometimes they’re winning, but I am stubborn and I won’t quit fighting. What happened in my present to give me hope?

     It’s simple. I made a friend, a real one, for the first time in my life. Before, I was this broken shell of a person. Before, I didn’t have hope and I didn’t really care for trying at anything. But now, I have a best friend. I have someone who tries to make me see that there is goodness in me and there is hope and that I haven’t entirely failed at life yet. She pushes me to be a better version of myself. She makes me want to be someone she would be proud of. She is one of the reasons I keep fighting. For the first time ever, I have someone to try for and someone to run to when things fall apart. Friendship makes it all worth it. I have a reason to fight now and I’m not giving up any time soon.

     After I made that friend, others came as well. I’ve become friends with some amazing people and they make my present worth it. It’s all worth it now – the emotions I have to battle, the darkness trying to drag me down, forcing myself to be happy – and I wouldn’t have it any other way. They are here with me now. I am not as alone as I feel. I fight now, because of them, because they are here to help me fight.

     

     Now all that’s left to talk about is the future. It is the one thing that scares me the most. Honestly, it’s a terrifying thing, the unknown. There is no way to know what will happen. Where will I go? Who will I become? Will I be happy? Will I be able to stand on my own two feet? These questions constantly run through my mind like a broken record, scaring me to the point of fear induced anxiety attacks. But now, I am learning. The future is not something to fear. How can I possibly fear something I don’t yet know? It’s irrational.

     Instead of fearing my future and the unknown, I now try to embrace it. The fact that I will never be able to control every single aspect of my life is finally sinking into my mind after all this time. There is no need to be afraid – things should fall into place eventually, exactly the way they’re supposed to. Who knows where I’ll go, or who I’m going to be, or how my life is going to play out. That’s the adventure. That’s part of living and I’m trying not to be afraid of it anymore. If I don’t let life happen to me, I’m not really living. No more being scared. I’ve decided to just let life happen. I have hope now, because of my friends and the happiness they have brought to me. They’ve shown me that even though the world is a horrible place sometimes, there is so much beauty in it. I just have to stick it out long enough to see it. My future will be better than both my past and my present.

     In all honesty my past and present have shaped me into the person I am and will continue to mold me into the person I’ll eventually become. It all works together; bad things happen so good things can eventually come, and good things come to an end for better things to come along. I just have to make it through the bad times. I now have hope that things are going to get better. I just have to be here to see it. 

Love was everything...

*These are not my original ideas! This is a rewrite of a story I found online but have since lost. I claim none of the ideas as my own, though the writing is mine.*
     


      Of course I was hurt the whole time. I just didn’t say anything.

             

     For a few painfully long heartbeats, there was nothing but silence, the kind sharp enough to slice through the air and make you hold your breath or else it will dig into your skin and wrap itself tightly around your lungs. Silence so deadly it could kill.

             

     Somewhere nearby a car was passing by. A woman was laughing and the giggles of children soon followed. Perhaps it was the upstairs neighbors or one of the children that lived close to Jay. I’d been there enough to know that there was always some sort of ruckus in the background. There was never quiet. There was always something happening… No matter how hurt you are, life doesn’t stop for anyone.

             

     The sound of the cars speeding by numbed my mind. The voices began to haunt me again, particularly his voice. The funny thing about voices is that you can’t choose when they will haunt you. No matter how hard you try to push the thoughts out of your mind, nothing changes. The voices – his voice – won’t go away. They’re always there, playing in your subconscious like a broken record, reminding you of better times, of things you will never get back. Your mind becomes your worst enemy.

             

     He finally looked at me for the first time since I entered the room. His deep blue eyes locked onto mine and held my gaze. Neither of us spoke. His back was against the wall, his hands clasping and unclasping as he stared at me. This place was familiar – this place had been ours when I was still his, when he still wanted me instead of… her.

            

     But he knew how I acted when I was hurt. Of course, he would never hurt me, or so he said. A part of him would be hurt as well. My only question is why.

             

     If he cared so much, why did he hurt me? I won’t scream. I won’t cry or break down or let him see my walls crumble around me. I had done all of this in the safety of my loneliness; I had cried more tears than I thought possible. I had screamed until my vocal chords ached and my lungs ran out of air. I had screamed his name until the sound of the word was foreign and felt wrong coming out of my mouth. Now, all of the emotions pounding inside of me, swarming through my head, simply came out as silence, the kind that could drive you mad if you weren’t careful.

             

     Why? Why would he cheat on me? Had I done something wrong?

            

      It technically wasn’t cheating. His voice is flat, as if his mind is somewhere else, focused on something more important than me, and it probably is. He says nothing happened between them. He simply liked her a lot. He swears that was all that had happened, that I was overreacting, that it was nothing to be concerned about.

             

     But if she liked him back, would he have left me?

             

     He’s silent. He won’t dare answer this question. I have a feeling he doesn’t want to hurt me, but if he’s trying to avoid doing that, it’s too late. He has hurt me far more than he knows or ever will know. He has shattered me already.

             

     He would leave me.

             

     The thought is foreign, cold. It feels heavy on my mind. It takes a moment to sink in, but I immediately grasp the seriousness of it. If she had returned his feelings, he would have left me. I would have been left alone and he wouldn’t have cared at all.

             

     His eyes stray away from mine and he stares down at his feet. His hands continue their nervous dance of touching then dropping to his sides.

             

     He didn’t just like her. He was in love with her. Even though he didn’t say so, it was blatantly obvious. Just the look on his face spelled it out for me. Jay had always been an open book, and I was an excellent reader. He says he couldn’t help it – he simply just fell for her.

             

     He. Still. Loves. Her.                                      

             

     The thought hit me like a ton of bricks and stung like a slap across the face. I saw it in his eyes when he mentioned her, the other girl, the one who managed to make him smile like I never had. I see it in the look on his face – it’s the way I’ve always looked at him. It’s a look of pure adoration and love. For me, he was what made love real. Before him, I’d heard of how wonderful love was, but when I met him it became real. He was real and he was perfect and he was mine. Love was the way he smiled at me when he told me I was beautiful. Love was the way he’d hold me tightly and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Love was the way he said my name. Love was everything I meant to him, and everything he still means to me.

             

     He’s sorry, though his apology honestly isn’t really an apology. It’s a statement, a confession of something I already knew. I saw it coming, but that doesn’t stop my heart from breaking. It doesn’t stop me from feeling the pain of loss and rejection, of feeling like I’m not good enough and like I never was at all. This other girl is better…

             

     What did he like in her? I had to ask him. It was masochistic of me to ask, but I had to know. Was it her mind? Was she smarter than me? Did she intrigue him and draw him in? I simply did not understand how this other girl was different from me, and my own assumptions would not satisfy me.

             

     But he won’t answer my question. She wasn’t better than me. Don’t beat myself up, he says. One of his hands suddenly reaches out and grasps onto one of mine. I let him, and for a moment I feel whole again. For one fleeting second, I am my old self. I am not in pain. I am not hurting. But that moment passes and our eyes lock. He will not have power over me anymore.

             

     We’re both wonderful, he says. I shouldn’t take this so personally. But how can I not take it personally? He has decided that he likes her more than me. I am not important anymore… I am not enough.

             

    I will never understand and we both know this, and he knows better than to continue to explain. I won’t get it no matter how much he tries. In my eyes, I am not enough. I have failed and I am broken.

            

     I take a deep breath before I open my mouth again. We’re over. We both knew this as well. He understands.

             

     His hand drops mine and my heart betrays me, lurching, wanting him to grab my hand one more time. But this would be a mistake. I know better than to let him back in.

             

     He’s sorry. He never meant to hurt me, but I think otherwise. He had to have known what he was doing the whole time. I can’t listen to him anymore. While part of me appreciates the fact that he is trying to give me closure, I can’t hear him out anymore. I just can’t put myself through it any longer.

            

     I’m out the door before he can speak again, running to our spot. Before I know it I reach the tree – our tree – in the park where we spent a lot of our time together.

             

     The noose is already there. I’d had this whole thing planned out. With shaky legs, I step onto the chair and place the noose around my neck. Nobody will have power over me anymore. Nobody.

            

     I am done.

             

     Three.

             

     Two.

            

     One.

             

     My body trembles. I take a deep breath and kick the chair away from me. The rope catches my neck, suspending me in mid-air. As everything fades to black, the pain goes away.

             

     I am free.