Haunted

Chapter 3: Unsettled

As I laid in my bed, all I could think about were the fingers that I had felt in my hair. I know I hadn't imagined it. If my house was haunted, who was haunting it and why? Could they hurt me? If I could feel them touch me, what else could they do to me? My mind began to spiral out of control when my phone rang and made my heart almost explode. 

"Dang it," I complained as I leaned over to where it sat on my nightstand. It was almost midnight, so I wondered who would be calling me at this time of night, even though I had a feeling that I already knew.

Since he had called me repeatedly yesterday, I had kept my phone off until I laid down to go to bed, only turning it on in the event that I had to make a quick call. When I finally turned it back on, I deleted the rest of the texts and the voice-mail that he had left, not bothering to read or listen to them. Why did he all of a sudden want to talk to me? Did seeing me at the restaurant really get to him that bad? I hope it did . . . even more than it got to me. 

All of a sudden my door flew open—the same door that had been shut and locked just a second ago. I answered my phone, mainly out of sheer terror, wanting someone to be in my room with me besides me, even if it was just through my phone. 

"Jacynda? Are you okay?" 

I'm sure he could tell that something was wrong by the way I was breathing, which was hard and panicked. "No, not really," I admitted as I scooted up my bed, trying to get away from whatever had just burst through my door. I wished I hadn't answered my phone, not wanting to tell him what was going on in my house; not wanting him to think I'd completely lost my mind. Or worse, think that I wanted him here with me, even though I really did. I would take the company of a stranger right now if it meant that I wasn't alone in this house. "Um, I've got to go."

"No, please. I finally got you on the phone, please don't hang up."

My door slowly shut back by itself. My door . . . just shut . . . by itself. I started to cry, mainly out of fear of what was going to happen next. Different movies started playing in my mind and I had a feeling that I was fixing to be dragged off of my bed or thrown across the room. The air had become so thick and heavy that it almost choked me. I needed air. I needed air now. 

I wasn't going to wait around to see what happened next. I dropped my phone onto my bed and ran for the door, praying that it would open, since they usually didn't in the movies. When it did, I threw it open and ran toward my back door, fumbling with the lock before it finally gave in and opened. As I ran out onto the patio, I gasped like I had been under water and was finally able to breathe again. What the hell just happened? What is in my house? 

I sat down on the top step and laid my head in my hands and cried. Why was it that every time my life was finally on the right track that my train decided to derail? Why, out of all of the houses I could've picked, did I have to pick this one? Why was I sitting here on my patio after midnight when I had to be at work at seven in the morning?

I tried to get mad instead of being afraid, but every time I got up to go back into the house, I couldn't bring myself to open the door. I knew that I had to get some sleep or I'd never wake up in the morning. As I walked around the house, I was glad that I'd worn a gown to bed. I was also glad that it was warm as I opened my car door and crawled into the back seat, hoping that the sun would wake me and that I wouldn't oversleep. 

How pathetic is it that I'm sleeping in my car, afraid to go back into my own home? Pretty pathetic, if I say so myself. 

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I hoped none of the neighbors saw me as I crawled out of the back seat of my car and snuck back around my house. The sun wasn't fully up, so maybe neither were they. And if they were, maybe it wasn't daylight enough for them to see me. As I walked up the patio, I was still afraid to open the door, but I knew I had to; I couldn't go to work in my gown.