He Was Here
Chapter 1
The apartment looked abandoned and even maybe a little hunted. My eyes briefly scanned the room looking for anything to rest my gaze on. The amount of humidity in the air was alarming and made the place barely breathable. It was also dark and cold, although the lights were turned on, and the windows were closed. I tried to focus more on the boxes that filled the apartment than in the aspect of my new home─if that word could even describe a place like this. Also the apartment wasn't big and the boxes didn't help either, they just made the room look smaller than it already was.
The landlord, who was an old man with cold, tired eyes and a strong smell of cigarettes, had left an hour ago after telling me the building's rules and other important details. Now I was alone with my thoughts, and every crazy idea that was begging to get out. I felt more vulnerable.
This had to be the most terrifying part of this whole situation.
"This is the most terrifying part of this whole situation," I whispered, repeating it, trying to convince myself that in fact this was the only thing I should be scared of.
But it really wasn't and that was the big problem.
Moments later I notice a small mirror hanging on one of the walls, after looking carefully at the room. It was broken and dusty, just like everything else. But I couldn't complain, considering this was all last minute, and the rent was ridiculously low. I walked towards it, just to catch a brief glimpse at my reflection, but on the other side of the mirror a weak woman started at me with an empty gaze. She had disheveled brown hair, and her skin was covered in bruises. This woman was nothing like the one I remember. The one I remember smiled brightly at the world and had laughed at the stupidest things.
I guess she got tired of pretending and left.
At an attempt to distract myself I opened one of the many boxes that filled the room and gasped at what was inside. My breathing became unsteady, and my heart started beating dangerously fast. I had forgotten about this box and the things inside it. My cheeks were now damped by the tears, and my hand was covering my mouth, silencing my heartbreaking sobs.
Some of his clothes rested inside the box, rumpled with other things tucked in. Guilt started drowning me slowly. Then I felt my chest contract and heavy itself with the pain.
Remembering when I started packing quickly before I left that house, our house, brings horrible memories back. Even the thought of how I had stopped abruptly before debating on whether to leave the only things I had of him makes my heart ache. In that moment I was drained of energy, and my body ached with every step and movement I made. Despite all that, I tucked his things rapidly in the box, ignoring the fact that it would haunt me forever.
And here it was, hunting me. Making me regret. Making me feel more miserable than I already was.
Then a loud knock rescued me from my thoughts.
I looked carefully at the clock hanging in one of the pale walls, and realized it was too late for anyone to come knocking on my door. Besides, there wasn't that many people living on this floor, and they were surely not welcoming me at this hour.
Fear consumed me, it chewed and swallowed me in less than a second. My head started pounding slightly, my hands were getting sweaty, and my body felt colder and colder as the seconds past.
Another loud knock followed.
Now I could hear the light tapping of the person's shoe hitting the floor impatiently on the other side of the door, even though it wasn't loud. I could even hear my heart beating desperately on my chest.
Waves of emotions and thoughts blinded me briefly, causing me to see dark spots everywhere. Every attempt at calming myself was shamelessly useless but I didn't give up.
I couldn't.
After what seemed to be hours but really just seconds my breath steadied. But I could still feel my heart pounding extremely fast against my chest; however, I was less scared. I gathered all the confidence I had left, and ignored the side of me that feared and expected the worst of whoever was behind that door. My body trembled uncontrollably but somehow I still managed to move forward, closer to the door.
Then I took another step, making the wooden floor squeal annoyingly under my weight.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," I assured myself, barely making any difference, "he can't hurt you anymore."
But I was wrong.
I wasn't prepared for what came next and I could never have been. Not for this. Not for what was behind that door. There was no way I could have known this was going to happen.
I could never have been—and never could be—prepared to hear his voice again. It wasn't even the loud sound the door made when he forced it open that scared me; it was his voice. His voice send shivers down my spine and made my legs give in. My body gave up and collapsed, hitting the hard and cold floor in less than a second.
He was here in front of me, just a few steps away.
"Diana, did you missed me?" he asked with mockery in every word, every letter, that left his rotten mouth.
That question—no—just his presence was enough to turn my greatest nightmares into nothing but mere stories for little kids.
This was just impossible, every law and rule of life said so. Every experience lived on Earth proved this man in front of me wasn't real; however, he was still standing a few feets from me, breathing and talking and being.
He seemed just as real as I was.
I shook my head in denial, "It's all a dream, all lies."
I cried out, sobbing uncontrollably on the cold floor, "This can't be happening."
He took a step closer, and my body stiffened, almost as if I had been paralyzed or too weak to even breathe.
"Oh, but it is."
