House of Lincoln

6

She was still absorbed in her shopping, so she didn't notice me immediately. After she picked up a shirt and looked over its design, she must've seen me in the corner of her eye, because finally, she turned to face me. "Hello?" She already sounded creeped out. A loud siren went off in my head that alarmed my body saying "Get out of there now! Quick, before it's too late!" Sadly, the mind and the body aren't always great partners, and sometimes they defy each other. For example, drinking lots of coffee is bad for your body, but your mind will tell you: "You need it to focus, Lincoln!" That is to say that while my mind told me "flight," my body decided on "fight." I wonder if she could see my hands shaking. "Hey, that looks like a cool shirt." Why did I say that? That's so lame. I embarrassed myself in the first few seconds of talking. The end of my life could have begun right then and there. If, she did not reply with: "Oh yeah, I like the colors. Who might you be?" I was absolutely stunned she was entertaining a moron like me. "My name's Lincoln." She smiled, and I caught a glimpse of her perfect white teeth, which made me feel simultaneously more insecure, yet at the same time, equally more secure in her presence. "Nice to meet you Lincoln, I'm Stella. So, are you planning on buying women's clothes?" I remembered where I was. I cursed Rusty under my breath again. "Uh, no. Not today." She laughed, and what a relief that was.

Clyde's words reappeared in my head. "Actually, Lincoln... maybe it would be good for you. You know, to have someone to talk to." Now that I consider his words, he might be right. I haven't really had anyone to talk to other than Clyde and (the only of his kind) Rusty. Do I need someone who 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕕s me even more desperately now? Of course, I have those two guys, but... it's like the more I talk about myself the better I feel, and the more people that listen to me, the less alone I feel. Man, that's depressing to say. That loneliness in me must've become the underlying driving force that brought me to ask: "Well, Stella, would you want to get ice cream?" Luckily for me, she accepted, and I could tell by the look on Rusty's face that he was both proud of me and jealous at the same time. I didn't take her for granted. I appreciated every second of her company. I didn't have a crush on her, I swear. I just... wanted someone to talk about ǝsnoɥ ǝɥʇ with.

There was a place close by to the clothing store that sold excellent ice cream. Clyde and I usually go there together but only on special occasions (like his last birthday party). I guess you could say that this was a special occasion. I don't know where Clyde and Rusty went, but they must've wandered off to an arcade so that I could have some privacy. I ordered a giant vanilla cone, and she got some weird strawberry milkshake thing. We both sat at a booth inside and I didn't waste any time. I had to get it off of my chest as quickly as the idea came to me. "Do you believe in paranormal stuff?" Again, I don't like phrasing things around my house to be "haunted" or "ghostly," but it's the easiest way to start the conversation. She replies "No, but my grandma does. She's crazy about things sometimes." My question must've inspired her to tell me a story because without asking, she went ahead and started. "There was one time when my grandma came home after she went out with some friends at some diner place. She got home about three in the morning, and she was exhausted. She said she laid down in bed that night and started hearing things—like a voice or whatever. She swore she could hear it coming from downstairs, so she got out of bed and went down to check her kitchen. When she got there the light was off—as she left it—and pitch black. She could feel it. Somebody was there. Somebody was hiding in that dark kitchen, somewhere. Maybe under the table, she thought. Maybe they're standing right in front of me, and when I turn on the light—she thought—they'll be right there, looking at me, and placing their hands around my throat. Ready to strangle me to death, in the silence of my home. I'd fight for my last breath, only for it to be taken away while I looked into the eyes of a real demon. She thought about all of that in that one split second, then flipped on the light switch, and saw absolutely nobody there."

"That voice she heard must've been the wind, and it probably made her paranoid. That's what I think, but she seems to wholeheartedly believe it. Did it scare you at all?" She laughed about it, but it did scare me, but not exactly the story itself. More so, I connected the story to one night in September. I thought I heard somebody talking—one of my sisters was who I thought. They were all asleep, though. I checked all of their rooms, even my parents' room. Nobody was awake. This story is making me spiral again. The comfort of talking to someone was vanishing. This girl had unknowingly set off dynamite in my head. Not good dynamite, a very upsetting line of memories kind of dynamite. That story... it's making me think about t̵̡͈̹̼̰̂̔̍̂h̷̞͚͉̻̰̄ė̸̡̥͇͕̼͎̻͎͓̻̋̀͗̈́ ̷̲̍͌̈̾̈́̕ḩ̴̺͍̼͎̝̥̪̆́̊̋̀͗̾̂̑ǫ̴̣̳͇̭͈̏̄͐̆̉̎͋̿̊͠ṵ̴͉̙͓̠͙̞͉̑s̶̡̩̫̤̰͈͍̤͒͛͐̆͜ȇ̷̱̭̩̃̽̈͑́́͘͝ again. "You alright? You're letting your ice cream melt," she asked me. "Yeah sorry. I was thinking about something." She shrugged and went back to slurping down her strawberry milkshake. That's when it felt like some other force possessed me. Without even contemplating it, without even a direct plan, I just started blurting it all out. I started telling her about the house, and the closet, and the changing rooms... all of it.

It all just came out. She listened to me the whole time. With every word that came out of my mouth, I felt crazier. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I don't know why. I just had to tell her all of it. At the end of my explaining and rambling, she hit the bottom of her milkshake and there was none of it left. She looked at me dead on and said to me: "Wow. That's a hell of a lot to take in."