"Hi."
Gracie Cole looked up, her face youthful yet very crossed with work. She seemed shy to her onlookers, especially since she was still clad in her Catholic school uniform. The boy next to her had been gazing over at her all day. She didn't really want to meet anyone new, but there was something about his brown eyes that allowed herself to give him a small chance. "Um, hi," she said back to him.
"I'm Isaac."
"Gracie." He held out his hand for her to shake. She looked at it for a few seconds then loosely shook it. "I'm sorry, but I have things to do." She turned away and closed her eyes. Please go away. Maybe being nice to him was a mistake. She didn't know what he wanted; she just wanted him to leave her alone. Things were getting worse suddenly.
"Well then can I see you later?" She smiled. Her moods kept swinging back and forth. He was nice, he seemed inviting, but she wanted him to go away. Now she wanted to talk? She didn't know why, maybe because he was so persistent.
"Yeah." She felt bad about turning away from him so suddenly. She grabbed a piece of her paper and scribbled down her number. "Call me later." He seemed a bit astounded. "Sorry I'm so busy now."
"Stop flirting, Gracie. He doesn't want you. He just wants what's in your skirt." Gracie looked up. The only other person in the library was Isaac. He hadn't said it; the voice was too deep. But it was so clear that it had to be someone around here. "He wants to fuck; that's it! And you know it!" Gracie shivered and grabbed her things. She stood up and walked away, leaving Isaac behind. She was just trying to escape the shrewd voice.
"You can't hide from me, Gracie. I'm with you until the end of time."
She gripped her books to her chest and looked around. No one.
"Who�Who are you?"
"I can control you, Gracie. What you can use is a big, swift kick to the ass." Gracie pressed herself against a wall and closed her eyes again. Who was talking to her? There was no one around and there was a voice that was so mean; she didn't know anyone who talked like that. He was harassing her, whoever he was, and she couldn't find out who it was. She just wanted to get away from him before he did something to her. "But what you can do is hurt yourself," the voice said. "That'll save me the trouble."
"No!" she screamed.
"Come, you know you want to. Slit you wrist. Slit your throat. Hurt yourself," the voice coaxed. "It won't be too bad, I promise."
"Go away!" Gracie screamed. She dropped her books and began to run as fast as she could. If only she could get home, she'd be safe. She'd be away from the prying eyes and the disgruntled voice.
"You can't get away." Gracie stopped at the entrance to her street. "I'm everywhere you go. I'm with you in everything you do. You can't get rid of me�" She slowly turned around, scanning the street and the houses all around for someone who was lurking, ready to jump out and hurt her. But that voice was so clear, it sounded like he was right behind her. "You can't get rid of me unless you kill yourself. That's something to try, isn't it?"
"Go away!" she yelled, putting her hands over her ears. She was really starting to get scared. She went from peaceful studying to this, whatever this was. She was being stalked or something, she just couldn't see anything. "I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I can't hear you�"
"Stop it, Gracie! In the end you know I'll win." She bit her lip and started walking down her street to her house. "Give up?"
"No, I'm just ignoring you."
"Fine then. But listen you little whore, I don't have to sleep. I can stay up all night and you can't stop me from talking to you."
As Gracie stepped up to her house, she noticed something different. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was different. It was almost as if she could sense many things she overlooked. The front doorknob was very dirty, for one. She'd never noticed it before. She put her shirt over her hand and pushed open the door. Once she got upstairs, she peeled off her shirt and threw it in the sink of the connecting bathroom. She pulled out a box of matches and lit the shirt on fire. Satisfied, she walked out of the room. Without bothering to put another shirt on, she laid on the ground and looked at the ceiling. It was different too. Something about the fan and how it hung from the ceiling. Maybe it was the same as the doorknob; dirty and disgusting. She might have to burn the house down�start anew.
"That's great! You can do that! Burn the house down. Maybe a few more," the voice said. How did it get into the room? She looked around. There was absolutely no one in the room. Maybe the voice didn't have a body.
"You shut up," she said.
"Why don't you call your little boyfriend? I need some action," the voice said.
"Shut up. I'm sixteen."
"You're old enough to be a prostitute." Gracie rolled onto her stomach, pondering what that voice had said. "Call him."
"Not now. I'm hungry."
"You don't have to eat. You can just starve, you know."
"Shut up!"
"No. Fuck you. Don't eat. I'll be here to annoy you," the voice said.
"No you won't."
"The only way to get rid of me is to kill yourself."
"I'm not about to do that. Who are you anyway?" she asked, the thought of him confusing her. He seemed to be right next to her but there was no one around. She even checked the mirror to see if he was behind her, but there was no one there.
"I'm you, Gracie."
"You're not."
"I am. I'm you. I know everything about you. Who you are, what you are, where you are. I know everything you don't want me to know. And I know everything about you because I am you."
"Stop it. Just go away and leave me alone," Gracie whispered, curling up into a little ball on the floor.
"I also now why everything's suddenly very different. I know why you've been out of sorts lately. I know why you're moody and why you didn't want to trust your little boyfriend."
"Why?" Gracie asked. At least now he was trying to give her some kind of information; up until now he was creeping her out and telling her to hurt herself.
"I'm not saying."
"Come on," Gracie whined. Things have been out of sorts lately; she hasn't been able to focus on anything, she'd been extremely moody and since she got home everything in the house has been different. "Tell me."
"Sorry. It's nothing going to happen. Well, unless you do something for me."
"What?" she asked.
"Cut yourself. Grab a razor."
"What?! No!"
"Then I won't tell you." She could picture whoever this voice was folding up his arms and looking away indignantly.
"Fine," she said, giving in. Maybe just a little cut wouldn't be too bad, if it would make him tell her what's going on. "Where?"
"Your leg is fine for starters. Then you can make your way to the wrists. Maybe even your neck. That would be a sight to see. Gracie on the floor with her throat slit." The picture of herself on the floor with her throat slit and all the blood dripping out entered her mind. She shook her head, trying to get rid of it.
"Okay, you're freaking me out," she said. She walked into another room and grabbed a box cutter. "Will this work?"
"Yeah. Try it out. Do it up on your thigh, where no one can see it."
"Okay." She lifted her skirt a bit, and ran the razor over her thigh. She bit her lip, nearly screaming form the pain.
"Doesn't that feel good?"
"No!"
"It does for me."
"But it hurts," she said, wincing at the blood trailing down her leg. She put the box cutter away immediately before he got any more ideas.
"Oh, you're just a wimp. You'll get used to it."
"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" she asked, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around the cut on her leg. Maybe the pressure would make it hurt less, and it would stop the bleeding.
"No."
"What? What does that mean? You're not going to tell me? I already did what you told me to do! Why is everything different?" she asked.
"No."
"Gracie! Gracie are you home?" her mother yelled from the front door. Gracie's eyes widened and she quickly tried to clean up the blood on the floor and on her leg.
"Shit," she said, and stood up. What did she just say? Did she just curse? She never cursed! The towel fell to the floor and the blood dripped down her leg. She ignored it now and fumbled around for another shirt. She put it own just as her mother knocked on the door before walking in. Gracie looked up, her skin pale as if she'd seen a ghost.
"Gracie, why didn't you answer me? I was about to get worried�you look pale. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I guess I'm just tired." She went to her bed and got under her covers.
"Are you sure you're feeling all right? You usually don't even think about sleep until ten." Gracie rolled her eyes.
"I'm just not feeling right, okay? I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. If someone named Isaac calls for me then wake me up, otherwise let me sleep."
"All right. Do you want me to wake you for dinner?" Gracie glared at her mother. Did she not hear her or something?
"I said no, all right? Just if Isaac calls." She pulled the covers to her chin. "And why the hell is it so fucking cold in here?"
"Gracie!!" her mother scolded, surprised at her daughter's language.
"Shut up and leave me alone." Gracie waited until her mother left the room, then threw all the covers off and pulled the sheets from the bed. They were stained with the blood from her leg�she'd made a pretty deep cut.
She grabbed a pair of scissors and took them to her sheets. She cut long strips, then stuffed a strip into the bathtub and lit it on fire with her matches.
"You're doing well," she heard. That voice! No wonder she was so rude to her mother and she was lighting things on fire! That voice was telling her to do all this. She could hear it as she was talking, telling her lightly to be mean and to be a pyromaniac. "Make sure to let the fire spread."
"I don't get you," she said, lighting another strip on fire.
"I don't care if you get me or not. What I care is if you listen to me or not."
"I'm not going to listen to you," she huffed, and cut another strip of her sheets.
"You already have. You're cutting strips because I'm telling you to do so. You yelled at your mother like I said. You're just folding right into my hands, now aren't you, sweetie?"
"Leave me alone." Gracie walked back over to her bed and climbed back under her large comforter; the rest was stripped off and burnt up. By now she'd forgotten about her leg and was set on getting rid of the haunting voice.
"You're not tired, now are you?" it asked.
"No."
"Then why are you trying to sleep? It won't get you anywhere. You'll just toss and turn all night because I'm talking to you and won't let you do anything."
"Maybe if I'm asleep I can get away from you."
"Gracie! Who are you talking to in there?" her mother yelled from somewhere in the house. "I thought you were going to sleep!"
"Go to hell, mother!" Gracie yelled back.
"I've had enough of your mouth. Come down here right now. You're talking, not sleeping."
"Leave me alone!"
"Grace Elizabeth Cole, get down here this instant!"
"Fuck you!" Gracie pulled the comforter over her head and closed her eyes.
"I've taught you well and it's only the first day," the voice said. She bit her lip a moment, afraid of what she was doing. This wasn't her. She wasn't like this. She never yelled at her mother, she never cursed, and she certainly never stripped her bed down and burned her sheets on a regular basis.
"Please, go away. Let me be," she said.
"I'm here to stay, babe."
"Please�" The phone rang. Gracie threw off her cover and sat up.
"It's him," the voice said.
She ran over and picked up the phone. "Hello?" she said, sweetly.
"Is this Gracie?" Isaac's voice said. The voice was right! It is him!
"Yes it is," she said. "By any chance is this the incredibly hot guy I met today at the library?" She heard a light laugh from the other end of the phone, and a matched laughed in her head.
"It might be."
"I hope so, because I'm really looking forward to seeing him."
"Maybe tomorrow?"
"Maybe tonight?" Gracie smiled, twisting the phone cord around her fingers. She was never this open with guys, but she could hear the voice in her head telling her what to do.
"Why don't you go out with me tonight?" he asked.
"Well, where would we go?"
"Movie?"
"Sure."
"Meet you at the mall at nine?" Gracie giggled.
"I'll be there."
"See you then."
"Bye."
"Bye." Gracie hung up the phone and walked into the bathroom. By now the flames of the sheet were gone and all that was left was ashes. She turned on the water, washing them down the drain, then switched the water to nearly scalding. Soon steam was fogging the mirrors.
"Someone going to get laid tonight?" the voice asked.
"I highly doubt it."
"Oh, you're no fun at all."
"Then why don't you just leave me alone? Go talk to someone else."
"Because it's my goal to make you fun. And I never give up on my goals, Gracie." She groaned and took off her clothes. She jumped in the shower, the water scalding her skin. She figured it wouldn't be good to go out with toasted skin, so she shut off the hot water and a blast of cold shot at her. She jumped slightly, but didn't get out of the way of the stream of water.
"That's always fun, nothing like freezing cold water to start you evening," the voice said cynically. "Put the hot back on. I don't like this."
"Well I do so shut up." She ran her body cleanser over herself, washed her hair and then jumped out of the shower. Dripping wet, she walked to the closet opposite of the sink and got out a towel. She quickly dried herself, slightly wincing as she grazed the slit on her upper thigh.
"Whatcha going to wear tonight?" the voice asked. "Are you going to wear your prim and proper Catholic School Girl shit or are you going to listen to me and be a slut? I know you didn't get all those clothes to just have them sit in your closet and collect dust."
"I'm going to wear the Catholic School Girl shit!"
"Gracie! Come on! Be slutty!"
"No."
"Oh, fuck you."
"How can you? You're a voice." Gracie smiled and wiped her hand along the mirror so she could see her face. She began to apply her makeup. It'd take her ten minutes to walk to the mall to meet Isaac. She wanted to get there early because she was hungry.
"Well you could at least not put a skirt," the voice said.
"What do you expect me to do? Go without pants on?"
"That'd be funny, but don�t wear a skirt, Gracie."
"I always wear a skirt."
"Don't."
"I'm wearing a skirt." She stood close to the mirror to put on her eyeliner. Suddenly she poked herself in the eye. "Hey! That hurt!" She blinked a few times then resumed putting on her eyeliner. She finished her makeup and took her hair out of the towel. She grabbed her blow dryer and began drying her short red hair.
"Whatever possessed you to put blond streaks in your hair?" the voice asked.
"I like it. You're the first one who hasn't." A few minutes later she shut off her blow dryer and went into her bedroom. She walked to her closet and picked out a short skirt. She put it on and rummaged for a shirt.
"How about that blue shirt? That'd go nice with your skirt," the voice said.
"That blue one is a piece of cloth that makes my boobs nearly pop out of it," Gracie said, passing by her blue shirt and looking for something else.
"You should wear it."
"I'll poke someone's eye out!"
"All the more to wear it." Gracie looked at it and smiled.
"All right."