Melbourne, Australia
Present day
Bray Daniels hunted by a shadow.
A faceless demon in the dark. Her brother-Ryan- had compared her hunter to that of the lioness stalking the oblivious gazelle across the cooper sand of the Serengeti. Crouched in the high grass watching-studying-from a far as the young gazelle went about its day ready to pounce, given the slightest margin of opportunity. Leaving her haunted by the constant- obsessive- need to look over her shoulder, or pointlessly study the face of every passing stranger. An act that would never yield the results she craved.
Bray preferred to compare him to the monster under the bed, nameless, faceless, and invisible. However, unlike a frightened child, she could not be soothed by her parent's assurance that monsters weren't real. Because Bray knew that childish fear was a justified one. Monsters were very real. They may not live beneath the bed with forgotten socks and toys, or have lurid orange scales and razor sharp teeth dripping with saliva, but they lived and breathed just frustratingly out of reach. Hiding among the nameless, the faceless, and the forgotten.
Nevertheless, the simple fact remained, that just because you have forgotten them doesn't mean they've forgotten you.
A terrifying prospect but an inescapable truth.
A truth that haunted Bray's every step.
Those were her good days, when the warm Australian sun would melt away her worries, and Bray Daniels could forget the last six years of her life.
But other days, she would awake to cold sweat dripping down her brow, as she screamed and clawed frantically at her blankets searching for purchase... something...anything to hold on to. Those days kept her locked tightly inside her house with her family as she was besieged by blinding panic attacks, until she fell into an exhausted sleep. Those days not even the view of the glimmering blue ocean waves and white sandy beaches-visible from her window- or her mother comfortingly smoothing her hair, would sooth her terror. No matter the effort, nothing could reel her in, as she was cast adrift in the raging seas of her own mind. Temporarily lost amongst the churning white capped waves of fear, unable to find the shore. Sometimes it would last for only a few hours or the entirety of the day, it varied. But eventually the undertow would release her and Bray could claw her way back to shore, to lick her wound and try gathering what little dignity she had left. Leaving not only Bray emotionally drained and physically exhausted, but also her unwavering support network. After such a trying day take out was ordered and a mindless comedy thrown in the DVD player. Still queasy from her emotional roller coaster Bray would nibble at her sweet and sour chicken, under the watchful eyes of her loved ones. With food in their bellies, they would retire to the family room for some much needed relaxation.
As always, she curled up on the middle cushion of the sofa, with her well-worn blanket. Her mother claiming the space to her left, always pulling her short legs across her lap. Dad would plop into his favorite lounge chair that was angled just right so he had an unobstructed view of the flat screen and his daughter, but also affording her the space the other were unwilling to give. Derek Kelly- her best friend- plopping down heavily behind her, nearly rocketing her off the sofa as his heavily muscled swimmers body fell into the cushion- lounging slightly to the side so he could pull her backwards so she could rest her head against his side. Bray's younger brother Ryan would curl up on the floor, his back resting against the center of the sofa, silently giving his older sister permission to twirl the strands of his hair around her finger, with a large plastic bowl of popcorn in his lap. More often than not her eldest brother Steve was usually at work, or else he would have been sprawled in front of the unlit fireplace propped up against the scarcely used ottoman. The final member of her support team was Derek's younger sister Madge, who was currently fighting Ryan to reach her hand into the snack bowl and grab a handful of popcorn before Bray's brother inhaled it all bowl included. Without fail, Bray would doze off before they even reached the middle of the movie, slipping into a refreshing sleep. Sometimes dreaming of her days in Athens and Beijing, dancing through the air as she transverses the unevens with intricate twists, flips, and releases, until finally her feet thumped down on the padding and she could faintly hear the cheers of her family over the applause. Standing on the podium as her medals were hung about her neck, as the United States National Anthem encompassed the arena, bring goose bumps to her skin and tears to her eyes. Or of meeting Derek for the first time as he left the cafe in the Olympic Village and she had been wandering about lost in a haze of disbelief.
Whatever dreams, when Bray awoke she would always awake to the same scene. With her upper body draped across her best friends chest, as he slept his long legs stretched out in front of him and his head laying awkwardly. Bray always doubted that it had been even remotely comfortable for him, despite his numerous protests. Her mother curled up in her corner of the sofa, clutching her daughter's legs to her chest. The teens sprawled across the carpet, her brother lying face down drooling onto the white fibers the bowl of popcorn over turned beside him. Madge curled up with a blanket bunched beneath her head as a pillow and her father reclined back in his lounger mouth gaping open, and snoring.
Lying there enclosed in Derek's strong arms and surrounded by those she loved, she felt warm and safe. As if nothing could touch her as long as she was wrapped in this protective cocoon. But one day every dream bubble would pop. And it was the shadow that haunted her every step, that brandished the straight pin that burst her bubble.
It was early October when she had returned home from picking her brother up from soccer practice. While Ryan made a beeline for the kitchen to fill the empty pit, he called a stomach. Bray had climbed the stairs wanting nothing more than to change into her pajamas and get the jump on her most recent article. Entering her room Bray had gone right to her small walk-in shucking her jeans and blouse for yoga pants and old t-shirt. Barefoot she crossed toward her desk nestled perfectly into the opening formed by the large bay window that over looked the churning waters of the Bass Strait.
It was then the light breeze tickled her skin. Bray tensed, turning slowly toward the window on the far wall of her room. The thin white lace curtains billowed inward as the breeze blowing in off the ocean spilled in through the open window. A window she never opened. Her blood chilled, as her frantic hazel eyes flicked around the room in search of the pink bloom that was his calling card.
As her eyes trailed over her large queen sized bed, she found it. Propped up against two of her fluffy pillows, the delicate pink petals glowing against the stark contrasting white of the cotton pillow case was a peony. Without even looking Bray knew everything else was untouched, it always was. He left no note, there was no need too. The fragrant flower spoke for him.
Silently reminding her that he would always come.
Always find her.
She was his.
The handful of other times Bray had found his calling card waiting for her, she had hurried her family as far away as she could get them. Flight, train, bus, it didn't matter what ever was going the farthest the fastest was the mode they would take. Pausing only long enough to pack their dogs, a few precious momentous and grab their emergency escape bags and flee.
This time gazing down at the bloom, for the first time in six years Bray Daniels was not afraid.
Something inside her had changed.
This time, she would stand her ground.
He would come.
It was inevitable as the dawn.
This time Bray would be ready.
It was time to end this nightmare.
If he wanted to play...she'd play.
And then when he came for her.
Bray would end his miserable life.
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