Page 4

"What's the matter?" she asked, her voice sharp with concern as soon as she heard my whimpering. I probably sounded completely pathetic, but I didn't care.

"My apartment... my apartment..." was all I could manage between painful gulps of air; I was sobbing, and I hadn't even noticed until now. There was no way to even put what had happened into words. "I... I... I'm sorry to bother you... but... but I'm scared."

Polly abruptly changed gears. "Don't worry," she cooed, her voice turning gentle and soft in a way I had never heard. It was like she was soothing a baby. "Where are you?"

"At a c-café near my new p-place," I mumbled, slowly regaining control of myself. "Just half a block down on Main. It's called Kracker's."

"Okay." Polly had driven me home after happy hour last week, so she knew where I lived. "I'll be there in ten minutes. It's gonna be okay, Rach." Then the call cut out.

She was coming to help me.

I guess this meant we were friends now.

I put my phone on the table and wrapped my arms around my knees. Curled up in the far corner booth, I rocked back and forth on the seat, trying not to have a complete meltdown. The lone waitress was watching me like I was about to snap, keeping her distance.

Polly was true to her word; she was there in less than ten minutes. When she saw me, her mouth fell open, and her eyes went wide. I must've looked absolutely deranged; no wonder the waitress wasn't keen on getting too close. I tried to pull myself together, to regain any shred of dignity.

"Rachel!" Polly gasped. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" She slid in the seat across from me and grabbed my hands.

"Oh God." I broke into fresh tears as my resolve melted away. I thought again about the horrible animal-like scream, and my heart began thrashing in my chest. "Oh God, Polly, I really think I am going crazy. I don't know what else it could be. I must be losing it. I am losing it!"

She gently shushed me, as she rubbed my white knuckled fists. Her hands were surprisingly warm, which had to mean that mine were like ice. Now that I realized it, my whole body shook with cold.

"Why, Rachel? Why would you think that?" she asked, looking at me with a pained look. I could see the pity in her eyes, but I didn't care; I was just glad it wasn't disgust. I felt another swell of fondness for her.

"It's my apartment," I whispered back, my tears finally beginning to slow. I paused for a moment to inhale deeply, and Polly squeezed my hands. "God, there's... there's something in my apartment." I shuddered involuntarily.

A flicker of confusion passed over her face.

I breathed deeply again, and I hoped her understanding would extend to this. "I think my apartment is..." I wrestled with the word, with the absolutely insane thing I was about to say, "...haunted or something."

Polly was quiet for a moment. "Haunted?"

I dropped my gaze, not wanting to see her face as I continued with my crazy theory. "At first, it was just little noises and a few things disappearing. Like my keys. But today..." My voice shook. "Today, it was my laptop. And when I screamed in frustration... something screamed back."

It was quiet for a moment, so I snuck a glance at Polly's face. Her eyes were narrowed, her brow knotted, like she was processing what I was saying but she couldn't put it together in a way that made sense. "Someone was in your apartment?"

"No, Polly, that's the thing... there wasn't anyone there. There are bars on my windows and the door was locked. And... and it didn't sound h-human..." I put my face in my hands. "See? I'm totally going crazy."

When there was no response, I peeked through my fingers at Polly, expecting the worst. But Polly didn't look uncomfortable, just worried. There was still no hint of fear in her eyes.

"Uhm, well, maybe you should talk to your landlord, maybe there's an animal stuck in a crawl space or something."

I shrugged. If only it were that simple. If only she had heard the noise... but then again, I wouldn't have wished that on anyone else, not even my worst enemy, not even Rick.

"But until that's sorted, you need to come and stay with me."

I looked up at her and just blinked. "A-Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?!" she burst out.

"Of course I'm sure! I don't know what's happening with your apartment, but I've worked with you for two years, and you've never been anything but level headed. If something is scaring you, and if you think it's serious... then I think it's serious. And you need to stay with me until you feel safe again. That's what friends are for."

I smiled sincerely at the word 'friend'. I wasn't alone anymore.

Polly paid for the coffee I hadn't drank—I hadn't thought to grab money as I'd run from the horrible noise—and walked me back to my apartment, where she had parked.

She had a beautiful BMW—that explained how she had gotten here so fast—but instead of getting into it, she turned and headed down the stairs to my apartment.

"W-wait!" I shouted. My whole body began to shake. "What're you doing?"

Polly paused mid-stair and looked back at me. "If you're going to be staying with me, you'll need your toothbrush and stuff, right?"

"But..." I was reluctant. "That's... There's... Inside..."

Polly gave me a big smile and held out her hand to me. "Come on. It will just be for a second."

Debate raged inside my head for a short moment. I wasn't sure if what had happened was even real, but at least she would be with me. Finally I nodded and took her hand. She led me—like a scared child—down to the door.

The door was still closed and unlocked. It took all of my nerve to even grip the handle. I opened the door slowly, carefully, not wanting to announce my return to whatever was in my apartment.

I came expecting darkness and an eerie atmosphere, but my apartment was still well lit, bright... and completely empty. Nothing was out of place. It didn't seem like the battleground it had been a mere half hour ago. I stepped into the apartment, still cautious.

That was when I saw it. My laptop was back, sitting on my counter right where I had left it, and the USB key was even in the centre of the circle I had drawn on the sheet of paper.

All I could do was stare, mouth hanging open like my brain had soundlessly slipped out my ear. How did they get there? There was no way Polly would believe me now...

I turned to look at her, waiting to see her reaction.

She stared back; her eyes were no longer playful, they were searching and careful.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't joking, that this had really happened, that this was part of the problem, but I couldn't muster the words.

Before, in the café, I was sure she believed me, believed the truth.

Now I was sure that she thought I'd suffered a psychotic break and was descending into madness.

Maybe I was.

I crumpled to the floor, defeated, utterly at a loss of what to do.

It was a true testament to Polly's kindness that she didn't leave then and there. I had expected her to back away slowly, to leave and call professionals to come for me, but she just set to work. The fear that paralyzed me didn't seem to affect her.

"Do you have a suitcase or bag or something?" she asked.

"Uh... under the bed," I answered mechanically.

I watched her from my spot on the floor as she went into my room and reached under the bed.

I flinched, remembering the encounter on my first night.

But nothing happened.

Unfazed, Polly pulled out my duffel bag and began to stuff it with everything I needed.

She opened my dresser drawers and grabbed pyjamas, underwear, and any other comfy clothes I might have.

Then she disappeared into the bathroom to retrieve my toiletry bag.

While I was thankful for her help, it was a strange thing to see; it was like she was a master of quickly packing up someone's belongings to take them somewhere, like she had done this exact sort of task before. It would explain her strange calmness, and I idly wondered when she had needed to do such a thing...

She emerged from the bathroom only moments later, my small duffel bag now bulging.

Polly gave me a reassuring smile as she put the bag on the counter, next to my laptop, to close it.

She paused for a moment, glanced at me, and then popped the laptop into the bag as well.

After she zipped it up, she took her USB drive and slid it into a pocket of her purse.

"There," she said, beaming at me.

"All ready for our sleepover!" Her voice was overly cheery and sing-song, like how someone spoke to a child they wanted to behave.

My heart sank.

Yup, she definitely thought I was losing it.

To be fair, I was thinking the same thing.

And at least she was being kind about it and not freaking out.

Polly pulled me up from the floor and led me out of the apartment, taking the keys from me when my hands were shaking too much to lock the door. We headed for her car, but she stopped me when I went to go to the passenger side door. Instead she held open the back door and beckoned me in.

"Why don't you just lie down and try to rest?" she insisted.

I could guess it was actually because she didn't want me up front where I could do serious damage if I really did lose it. I did as she said, stretching out back there with my head below window level. Despite everything, I was just glad that I didn't have to stay here.

The drive to Polly's was longer than I expected. I watched the tall rectangular buildings of the city give way to smaller apartment blocks and then finally the arched roofs of large houses. Judging from the small details of the roofs and windows, we were in a nice, upscale neighbourhood. Our speed slowed, and I looked over to Polly, catching her watching me in her rear-view mirror. I smiled weakly, to let her know that I wasn't as far gone as she thought.

We came to a stop, and I sat up, fully expecting to be at the receiving door of a fancy mental health facility.

Instead, we were in front of a large, beautiful house.

Not one of those tacky McMansions, with their cloned facades, this house was old but still luxurious with lots of personality.

It was French Country style, bright white walls with a red door and matching shutters.

For one moment my worries were forgotten, and I just gaped at it; I knew Polly was management at our company, but I didn't know she made enough to afford this place.

Distracted by the house, I didn't notice that Polly had already gotten out and was at my door. She opened it, reached in, and took my arm by the elbow, gently leading me out. She already had my duffel bag in her hand.

No longer immobilized by fear and finally beginning to feel more stable, I reached out, wordlessly offering to take it, but she held it away from me, out of my reach.

I looked at her, and she just shook her head, giving me that same gentle smile.

Jesus, just how far gone did she think I was that I couldn't handle a little bag?

She wouldn't even let me hold it when she had to unlock the door. Opening my mouth to complain, I immediately forgot what I was going to say as we walked into the large, airy foyer. It was beautifully designed, flawlessly melding modern conveniences with classic touches. The foyer was vaulted, with an open, sweeping staircase that led to the second floor, and painted portraits lined the exposed wall. My troubles were pushed aside momentarily, and I fought a childish urge to explore.

"This is your house?" I asked, almost dazed.

Polly started, like she had forgotten I could talk. Her eyes focused on me, and she looked like she was seeing me for the first time. "My parents' house, actually," she said as she tugged me forwards, heading towards an archway tucked in the corner of the room.

Ah, that made more sense. I guessed Polly's family was well off, but my envy was stemmed by the strangeness of the situation.

"Do they mind that I'm going to be... staying here?" I didn't know what else to call it, as something was different now. I didn't think I was a guest anymore, not exactly.

"No," she said, dipping beneath the doorframe into a narrow little hall, pulling me along. "They're dead."

I was quiet for a moment, and we continued down the hall in silence. Finally, I found my words. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. It was a long time ago."

We stopped at the end of the narrow hall, at the last room. She pushed open the door to where I would be staying.

It was beautiful and bright like the rest of the house, walls painted in a lovely tone of butter yellow, and the furniture—bed, dresser, vanity, and side tables—was all white with accents of yellow and blue flowers.

But there was something strange about this room that I couldn't put my finger on. Polly set my bag on one of the tables and turned down the bedding before rounding back to me.

"Rest," she commanded. She obviously wanted me to play nice. I went and sat down on the edge of the bed, indicating that I would. Truth be told, I needed rest.

Then I realized what was so strange about this situation. She was acting more like a nurse than a friend. While she was dealing with the situation rather well, she seemed strangely distant, closed off.

"Good." Polly smiled, like she was praising a well-behaved dog. "You'll be safe here. We'll talk in the morning." Before I could reply, she just walked out and closed the door behind her. As I heard the tiniest metallic clank, I realized the door had no lock on the inside.

Jumping up from the bed, I rushed to the door. "Hey!" I called out as I tried the handle. My suspicions were immediately confirmed; Polly had locked me in. "Polly, hey! Wait!"

"It's for your own good, Rachel," came Polly's muffled voice from the other side of the door. "Trust me."

"Polly!" I yelled back, slamming my fists on the door, but she didn't answer me again. I listened to her footsteps retreat down the hall, fading until they disappeared.

"What the hell..." I muttered to myself as I staggered over to the bed again.

I rubbed my hands on my face, trying to come to terms with my situation.

Polly didn't believe me, and was treating me like I was a mental patient. Was I really going crazy? Had I really imagined the horrific cry in my apartment? But if I had, then how could I just imagine my laptop disappearing and reappearing?

My laptop... I realized it was in the bag Polly had packed for me. A nagging thought scratched at the back of my mind, and I leapt off the bed again, lunging for the duffel. Retrieving my computer, I returned to my place on the bed's edge, and propped it up on my lap.

It sprang to life, just as it always did. The operating system awoke from its sleep state, nothing seemed out of the ordinary... until I reached my desktop. There was a single untitled text file that hadn't been there when I'd imported the files before I took my shower.

My hands shook as I double-clicked the icon, and the contents appeared in a window.

There—repeated thousands of times so that it stretched across the screen, filling the entire window—was a message for me:

LEAVE AND NEVER RETURN

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