I wished I could run away, or at least tell her to do so, I couldn’t move a single strand of hair. I felt a warm hand holding my arm and the sharp fear I felt made me dizzy when he turned his gaze towards Steph. “You OK? Feeling sick?” she asked me, sounding worried. I stopped breathing when she raised her head trying to see what I was looking at. He laughed and the sound of his laughter was deep, almost warm, even though his eyes had become even sharper, colder and crueler.
“No need to worry,” he said. “You’ll end up giving yourself a stroke, which would be a waste, after I decided to spare your life. Wouldn’t you agree?” I had no voice to respond. In truth, his voice simply ran through my central nervous system and I wasn’t fully aware of what his remarks meant at first. “She can’t see me. And I believe it would be best to answer her before she calls on someone to help you.” That sarcasm again.
“Mari!” I forced myself to look away from the tree, swearing I would never look at it again, and faced Steph, who was trying to shake me out from my stupor.
“I’m OK, Steph,” I replied, but my voice sounded as unreal as a robot’s from some science fiction movie.
“How’s that you’re OK?! You’re white like a piece of paper! And you’re shaking! Did anything happen?” she asked, looking at the tree once again, and I shook my head wishing she would stop doing that.
“I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep all too well. And I probably caught a bug or something,” I fibbed and bent down to grab my books. Steph helped me gather my things and took a deep breath, glad that I’d returned to my usual self.
“You were just standing here, looking at that tree.”
“I thought I saw a cat. But it was nothing,” I replied without thinking and his chuckle froze me again, my body too tense.
“You sure you’re OK? If you’re not feeling right, maybe you should go home. Or at least go to the infirmary and get some rest,” she suggested, genuinely worried, but I refused her advice once again.
“It’s nothing. Let’s go. We’re already late.” I tried as hard as I could to change the subject, and sighed in relief when I succeeded.
We ran inside, as I forced myself to only look forward without turning back to see if he was still there or if I’d been delusional. We climbed the stairs as fast as we could and entered the classroom with a river of apologies for our tardiness.
I sat at my desk and opened the notebook so it would look like I was paying attention, but my mind stared blankly at the empty lines. My wrist burnt and I closed my hands in two fists demanding some measure of control.
There was no escaping, I thought. Either I was going crazy or that creature really existed ... in the same world as Rachel, Steph, Michael and everyone else.
I refused the torrent of questions that flooded my brain, filling my head with hows and whys , and took a deep breath just to make sure I still maintained control over myself.
If I was going crazy, well, there wasn’t much I could do about it. But on the other hand, if he was real, what should I do? The question echoed inside me without a proper answer and panic began taking over again.
I told myself I had to be able to think straight. I made myself recall everything that had happened the day before. The strange store, the old woman, the book. Nothing special about any of it. Sure, the old book had a strange title, but still, it was only a book.
I’d picked it up thinking about putting it away and, instead, had opened it.
I bit my lower lip.
Why in hell had I opened that thing when I’d practically swore to never read it?
But the real problem was in what I’d idiotically decided to do next. I’d allowed myself to believe in this childish idea that all my problems could be solved with a simple Magical Spell. I’d allowed my pain due to Michael’s indifference to speak louder than my better judgment.
I dropped my head on my arms, feeling
“No need to worry,” he said. “You’ll end up giving yourself a stroke, which would be a waste, after I decided to spare your life. Wouldn’t you agree?” I had no voice to respond. In truth, his voice simply ran through my central nervous system and I wasn’t fully aware of what his remarks meant at first. “She can’t see me. And I believe it would be best to answer her before she calls on someone to help you.” That sarcasm again.
“Mari!” I forced myself to look away from the tree, swearing I would never look at it again, and faced Steph, who was trying to shake me out from my stupor.
“I’m OK, Steph,” I replied, but my voice sounded as unreal as a robot’s from some science fiction movie.
“How’s that you’re OK?! You’re white like a piece of paper! And you’re shaking! Did anything happen?” she asked, looking at the tree once again, and I shook my head wishing she would stop doing that.
“I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep all too well. And I probably caught a bug or something,” I fibbed and bent down to grab my books. Steph helped me gather my things and took a deep breath, glad that I’d returned to my usual self.
“You were just standing here, looking at that tree.”
“I thought I saw a cat. But it was nothing,” I replied without thinking and his chuckle froze me again, my body too tense.
“You sure you’re OK? If you’re not feeling right, maybe you should go home. Or at least go to the infirmary and get some rest,” she suggested, genuinely worried, but I refused her advice once again.
“It’s nothing. Let’s go. We’re already late.” I tried as hard as I could to change the subject, and sighed in relief when I succeeded.
We ran inside, as I forced myself to only look forward without turning back to see if he was still there or if I’d been delusional. We climbed the stairs as fast as we could and entered the classroom with a river of apologies for our tardiness.
I sat at my desk and opened the notebook so it would look like I was paying attention, but my mind stared blankly at the empty lines. My wrist burnt and I closed my hands in two fists demanding some measure of control.
There was no escaping, I thought. Either I was going crazy or that creature really existed ... in the same world as Rachel, Steph, Michael and everyone else.
I refused the torrent of questions that flooded my brain, filling my head with hows and whys , and took a deep breath just to make sure I still maintained control over myself.
If I was going crazy, well, there wasn’t much I could do about it. But on the other hand, if he was real, what should I do? The question echoed inside me without a proper answer and panic began taking over again.
I told myself I had to be able to think straight. I made myself recall everything that had happened the day before. The strange store, the old woman, the book. Nothing special about any of it. Sure, the old book had a strange title, but still, it was only a book.
I’d picked it up thinking about putting it away and, instead, had opened it.
I bit my lower lip.
Why in hell had I opened that thing when I’d practically swore to never read it?
But the real problem was in what I’d idiotically decided to do next. I’d allowed myself to believe in this childish idea that all my problems could be solved with a simple Magical Spell. I’d allowed my pain due to Michael’s indifference to speak louder than my better judgment.
I dropped my head on my arms, feeling
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