Fifty-Three (Heather); Hunted.
Surrounded by darkness... It's almost stifling... I can't breathe properly... It's like - someone's squeezing my winpipe closed........... Shit! Gasping for air I push a hand out, searching desperately for my invisible assailant. There's no contact, but the pressure on my throat ceases suddenly, and the area lights up somewhat. I'm in a forest, and it's dark. It must be late. I don't feel safe, I feel nervous. I start to walk, the nervousness increasing with every step. I get the feeling someone's watching me. It's the feeling I've been getting so much lately. That someone's watching me. Watching me. Hunting me. I shiver. The air has gotten colder.
I keep walking, shadows on either side of me. I see a gate to my left, and walk over to it. It's one of those really big gates, the sort you see on farms and stuff, think they're called eight bar gates, or six bar gates, or something. I don't know. It swings open as I near it. I walk on, although I'm starting to regret it; the air is colder here, and my stomach is clenching with my bloody 'Sixth Sense' or whatever the hell you call it when you sense something's not right. Something's wrong... I can feel it. The dirt track, flanked either side by trees, is silent, and though I can hear no movement I can feel it. There's something wrong...!
I only manage a small whimper as the first spirit passes through me, but as more and more start appearing, surrounding me from all angles, trying to smother me, trying to suffocate me... Trying to drown me... I panic. And scream.
"Get away from me!" I plead, my voice coming out in a desperate sob. Weak. Not enough. Still they come. Countless icy spirits. "Leave me alone!!" I scream, relieved to hear the volume of my voice. It's somehow comforting. "Get away from me!!! Leave me alone!! Leave me alone--!"
"Heather?"
"Huh?" I pant, gasping desperately for the air that is now there, filling my lungs. Tim's leaning over me, his face pale and worried in the dim light of our bedroom. He strokes my cheek softly, and it takes me a couple of seconds to realise I was crying. "Tim? Did I-? Fuck, I'm sorry..." I must have been shouting aloud... Shit.
"It's okay..." Tim sounds almost as shaken as I feel. "Are you okay?" Usually when I say or do something inherently stupid (like apologising for coughing, or laughing too loud, or having a nightmare) Tim will sound exasperated. But he doesn't this time, he just sounds worried. And that, weirdly enough, worries me too.
"Course I'm fine!" I have to joke, to get rid of the clinging cobwebs of fear. "Just a bad dream, nothing to worry about..." 'Bad dream'? I sound like a five year old... Tim leans back, and pulls me with him, into his arms. He doesn't say anything else, and I wonder if he's mad at me; I know he doesn't like me 'making light' of my problems... I then wonder if he's fallen back to sleep, but when I make a move to return to my pillow his arms tighten just that little bit, as if to protect me. I smile, letting out the breath I'd been holding, then wriggle around until I'm facing him, and bury my face in his shoulder to be closer to him. He smells of aftershave, Lynx deoderant, faintly of steam-engine smoke, and just generally of him. The comforting, reassuring scent of him.
But my back is towards the dark expanse of room, and I still feel like I'm being watched...
Chapter 52 ; Contents ; Chapter 54
