Crazy in Love

This time when I wake up, I feel so much better, it's almost too good to be true. I had no idea sleep made so much difference. Ah well, that's not important - the one thing I suddenly have on my mind is food. I need food. I peel the bed cover off of my bruised, weak body and I drag my sorry self out of the dark room and into the hall. It's shadowy. It's obviously late at night, now; I've slept through the whole day and into the evening. As I go along, I flick on the switch of the hallway so I can see where I'm going.

I arrive in the stairway and feel along the banister to keep my balance. As I glide down to the bottom, I give a yawn, then rub the sleep from my eyes. I switch the lights on and carry on into the kitchen, where I turn that light on too. I head straight to the fridge - out comes the ham, cheese and mayo. Fuck my healthy eating diet.

Then, to the bread. I slap it all in, put everything away, and then carry myself into the conservatory with a big glass of milk to wash it all down, and slump down into one of the armchairs to look out at the starry sky.

"God..." I snicker, slightly amused by all my negative thoughts.

I am just taking a tender sip of milk when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a dark shadow move past the window. I don't move at all at first. I'm still wondering if what I saw was real. Was I just tripping out because of my run-down state of mind? I see it again. Right against the glass, on the left side of my face. I can see it hovering. Something dark.

I turn to look, but immediately wish I hadn't. I just see a head, covered in a black cotton hat which has been pulled all the way down. There are holes cut in the eyes and around the mouth, but I didn't wait around to observe the colour of the person's Iris'. I scream, so loud I nearly choke on my milk, and leap up at once so that the cup and plate smash to the concrete floor. The person flees, as do I. I snatch the phone up as I sprint all the way back through my house and I head straight into the downstairs bathroom, where I know there is a lock on the door.

Heart racing, breathing heavy and difficult, head pounding, tears flowing, I phone the police right away. It's hard to talk at first, but I know that my life could be at risk if I don't pull it together and just give my address. I'm just finishing when I hear a sudden smash from somewhere in the house; I yelp, and my voice catches in my throat, making it even harder to breathe.

"Ma'am, take deep breaths. You have to calm down," The woman tries to tell me, "... ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me? Deep breaths, now."

I clutch the phone desperately and whisper back, "Someone's inside!"

"Ok ma'am, just hold on tight. If you have any type of object you can use as a weapon nearby, take it and get yourself into a secure place. People are on their way now, you just need t"-

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

I slowly lower the phone into my lap. The line is dead. I flinch at hearing fast-running footsteps from the kitchen. So close. So close! I look around for a weapon; tears stream my cheeks. I'm so cold, so terrified. The only thing I have is a toilet-cleaning stick and a can of scented spray. It will have to do. I clutch both of these weak objects for all its worth and rock back and forth... I wait... and wait... and wait...

"Police!..." I hear someone holler out from the house somewhere, "Ma'am? Miss Grover?? Are you here, Miss Grover?! Talk to me!"

I'm so overwhelmed with relief that I let out a blubbering cry as I scramble up to unlock the door. I slowly open it ajar to peer out, and as sure as anything, there were the police. 2 men and a woman, with guns, and torches. The lights had been turned off. A torchlight comes straight into my eyes and I hold my hand up to protect them.

"Miss Grover?" The woman asks me.

I rush out of the room and fall into her arms, where I begin to cry and tremble. One of the policemen manage to flick the lights back on, and that's when we are all able to take a look at the kitchen. Nothing is broken, aside from the conservatory door, so that the intruder could unlock the door from inside and enter the house. However, the furniture had been rearranged. I had seen a film called The Edukators once, in a Media lesson... it was about these young adults who broke into rich people's houses and changed everything around. Nothing stolen, nothing damaged. This was to teach them a lesson and make them appreciate their wealth, while others (such as these "Edukators" who did all the rearranging) were suffering in poverty.

But what's my lesson? I've done nothing wrong! And I'm certainly not rich. Well, I'm not poor, but what the fuck am I talking about? I'm not in a film.

"Whoever this person was... they didn't come here to steal. They had something else in mind." One of the men comments warily.

The other nods in agreement, "They did this for fun. For pure pleasure... sick bastard. Don't you worry, Miss Grover, you're safe now. And besides, whoever they were, if they came to harm you they would have tried to get into that bathroom. There's not one scratch or sign or force."

I shake my head in agreement; no, no one tried to come in. That's a good point. But that just freaks me out even more. What kind of mad fucker would break in, just to do this? At least in The Edukators they had a good, political reason!

Within the hour, the local news was outside my house, along with a wider team of the force who were to investigate. I had to give a short report on the situation. I admit, I was scared, because the person might come back for vengeance. But I remember the policeman saying, if they wanted to hurt me, they could have at least tried. I just don't understand. Who would do this? And why?

Well, one thing is for certain - I'm not staying here another night until my parents get home, that's for sure. I guess I'll have to hear Joyce out, after all. So when the police confronted me a second time and asked me if there was any family I could stay with, she was the first person that popped into my head. I called her, she answered, heard my sobbing and immediately told me to come round. The police gave me a lift.

Jame's POV:
~~~Aww, my poor Ally. She looks so petrified standing there. Blanket around her shoulders, face messy from tears and terror. I think I can still see her trembling slightly. Well, I'll be the one to comfort her. I doubt her dear friends will go running back just because she had a fright.

Ally, my love, I'm here for you. Nothing will come between us now. I can just imagine you, cradling yourself on the floor on the other side of that door... wishing I was there to save you. Yes... yes... I can see it. I'm sorry you've been so frightened, but it's worked out to my advantage.

I've got you, now. Trust me. You don't have to play coy anymore. You can come to me. I'm here.

I love you, Ally, more and more with each passing day. If I don't get you soon, I'm going to do something bad. I scare myself, sometimes you know. Should I be this way?... I often ask myself that. Am I normal? Well... what is normal? Acting rationally and subduing these feelings, or accepting them and being truthful? I think I'm perfectly normal. More than normal - I'm honest, and real. And waiting for you, Ally, my baby.

I'll have you, soon, don't worry.~~~