She

“It started when I was young. I don’t know exactly when, just…” my voice started to trail off, “young.” I fought against my own hesitation and continued. “ I, I didn’t think much of it. Just chalked it up to stress, y'know? But then...it started getting louder. My phone would buzz. I would look at it, and there was a message, but it didn’t have a sender. I would hear someone calling to me, but it wasn’t anyone in my house. I would go downstairs to see who needed me, but both of my parents hadn’t said anything. And then…”

    My voice caught in my throat. I hated this. Hated telling this story. It isn’t like he’d believe me anyway, so why bother with continuing..

    “And then…? It’s okay James, you can tell me. This is a safe space.” Dr Windfell’s eyes studied me inquisitively, dying to look further into the crazy boy’s messed up mind. Dying to see what’s wrong with my brain.

    I don’t like him She said to me.

    “James?”

    “And then She appeared.”

    She got up from the chair next to mine and started walking around Windfell’s office. She first went to Windfell’s desk. It was immaculate. Completely clear, save for the computer he was taking notes on and a pencil holder, filled with two pencils, two pens, and a pair of scissors. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the desk before She made her way to the bookshelf sitting behind Windfell. It was filled with books in pristine condition. The books didn’t even have any cracks in their spine. They were perfect. They had titles like “Understanding the insane mind” and “Coping with Loss” written on the sides. She kept walking, passing briefly by the window. The dark, oppressiveness of Winter flooded in through it. A chill went down my spine.

    “She?” Whindfell asked. “Who is She?” He sounded genuine, like he really believed that She was real. But I suppose it would be easy to sound genuine when you do this long enough. I ignored his question and let my eyes follow her. She walked past his desk once more, taking a moment to glance at it, and then took her seat once more. I looked at her, and She looked back, smiling.

    I felt the chill again, stronger than before. I felt it in my arms, my legs, my whole body. I shivered, yet I wasn’t cold. In fact, it was really warm in his office. No, the chill wasn’t from the temperature or the wind or anything like that. It was fear. Anticipation. Of knowing what was to come. It was She.

    “James, please answer me. We’ve come so far.”...”James, just tell me. Who is She?”

    Go on, answer him. I could hear the smile in her voice.

    “No, please, I don’t want to.”

    Oh, you know you do, or else you wouldn’t. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. 

    “James, I know this is hard, but you need to answer me. Who is She?”

    My entire body was shaking. I thought that I didn’t want to do it. I fought against it, but She was right. I was fighting against my own urges. Somewhere, deep down. I wanted this.

    I suddenly stopped shaking. I let the chill rush up my spine and into my head. As I did, She got up from her seat, kissed me on the cheek, and sat down in mine. Everything was clearer. My mind was focused.

    “Can I write it down?” We asked.

    “Of course.” He got out a notebook from a drawer in his desk and took a pen from the cupholder on top of it and handed them to me.

    We looked at his spotless desk and painfully clean bookshelf. Then at him. His perfectly ironed button down, his completely clean slacks. Everything about him was so manufactured. Like he wanted people to see him a certain way. A certain version of him. A version of him that wasn’t truly him, not deep down. We would know. We embrace who we truly are. We looked into his eyes, so nosey, trying to pry into our mind. He wanted to know who She was? Fine. We would show him. 

    The pen weighed heavy in our hand. Our thumb was on its base.

    ....

    Click.