Fear Itself

It was safe to say I was grounded for more than one day after the mishap with my aunt Sophie, and the wound was still considerably fresh, even a week later. I watched from my window every day, hoping that maybe she would come back. I waited day and night, watching and waiting for her, but she never came back; my hope prevailed regardless. I would hold Ralph and sit at the window sill like I always did, but not much ever changed. Sophie never came back; I couldn’t blame her. My father had done a very good job of chasing her away and ensuring that she’d never want to return. He had been downright rude, and I had told them to him. It was probably the reason that I had been grounded for multiple days this time… not mention I had allowed his estranged sister, a stranger, and also another living, breathing human into his house.

Recently, I had been making late nights a habit. Ralph enjoyed being awake at night too, and it wasn’t like I had anywhere to be in the morning. I watched the moonlight wash over my room, turning my rug and my bedsheets a dazzling white, but at this point, the wash-out was nothing abnormal. Nothing was abnormal about my room anymore. It was always exactly the same as it was. Some would find some kind of security in knowing that things weren’t changing; I didn’t. I never understood why people were so absolutely terrified by change when I was so desperately craving it. What I called imprisonment, some found comfortable. As bad as things were with my father’s rules, I understood.

My face fell with a slight sorrow as my eyes caught the starry sky above me, and I stared with a longing. What was out there? What was waiting for me? My longing was quickly consumed by my anxiety. It was forbidden; I wasn’t even supposed to open my window. I wasn’t allowed to draw curtains, either. My father said I was supposed to stay put, stay quiet, and stay hidden. That was the whole reason he bought me Ralph, I reasoned as I sat up straight. I glanced to the cat sleeping on my lap. He just seemed so absolutely content to stay inside. “You’ve got it easy, Ralphie,” I mused as I rubbed his fur a little, warranting a purr from the creature.

I lifted Ralph with care and set him down the floor as I rose to my feet. He sat patiently beside me, pawing at the tops of my feet. Knowing that my father was sleeping across the hall, there wouldn’t be a problem if I opened the window; he wouldn’t know, after all. I forced the window open and let the night air flow into my room. I closed my eyes and breathed it in; a content smile consumed my facial expression. “Beautiful,” I murmured to myself as I climbed back to the window sill, looking up at the glowing moon. The world just seemed so much bigger than my mansion; there were so many things out there for me to explore. A frown slipped onto my face. “I want to go out there,” I whispered with a desperate yearning.

A quiet mew sounded from beside me as Ralph leapt up beside me, placing his front paws on the bottom of the window pane. I looked to the tiny cat and giggled. “Oh, you too?” I asked, smiling fondly before my eyes drifted back outside.

Had I stared for a moment longer, I would have spaced out, and I wouldn’t have noticed that my obviously courageous kitten had taken a leap of faith from the window sill to the nearby tree branch. My eyes widened, and I couldn’t keep the terrified squeal inside of my mouth. He sat on the branch, eyes wide, blinking, stare at me. “Oh my goodness,” I gasped, eyes wide, and my hand shot up to cover my mouth. “Ralph!” I called out to the kitten. “What are you doing?!” I exclaimed in utter shock. Ralph mewed in response, and I furrowed my brows. “No, I will not come out there,” I replied. “You come back here!” Just as quickly, Ralph slid down the trunk of the old oak tree and into the garden.

I jumped back from the window, racking my brain for the proper reaction to this, but I could only continue to ramble, “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness!” I was filled with sheer fright as I ran down the hall and the stairs, trying to be as quiet as I possibly could, even in my panic, but when I got the front door, my usual hesitation stopped me clear in my tracks.

If I wanted to stay in my father’s good graces, I couldn’t go out there. I was in no position to be getting myself into anymore trouble, but I couldn’t just let Ralph run away. Then, I would have to explain why I had my window open, and that wasn’t a conversation that would end well for me either. I didn’t have an excuse; I had to go get the cat and try to get him back inside before my father woke up and realized I had left. Barefoot and struck with horror, I slipped out the front door and rounded the corner to see Ralph sitting on top of the brick wall, still slick and slippery from the afternoon rain.

“Ralph,” I called out, barely audible. “Psst!” I tried to get his attention. Ralph mewed at me. “Yes, yes, very funny,” I retorted rather unamused. “Time to come inside, Ralph,” I said, motioning for him, but he jumped to the ground on the other side, and as I swiveled to chase after him, I fell and landed face down in a puddle of mud. I groaned and pulled my face out of the grass, not so concerned with the fact that I was covered in mud as I was with the fact that my cat was currently running. I charged through the front gate with little time to waste, and though all I wanted to do was stomp my foot and whine, I knew that cat wasn’t listening to my protests; he was running whether I liked it or not. I chased the little flash of silver straight into the nearby woods, tripping and stumbling over rocks and branches on the ground. It wasn’t my most graceful moment. I could worry about the state of my toes later.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips when my eyes finally came upon my cat, jumping, scratching, and clawing at something, which was currently shrouded in darkness. After a cloud passed, the moonlight pushed back through the shadows of the tree branches, revealing half a face, a rather unamused one. As the moonlight pervaded the clearing, the man came into light. Not much mattered to me about his appearance at the time except for the fact that he had a shiny gun in his hands, and suddenly I was crippled with a fear I had never experienced before in my life: the fear of imminent death.

“Is this yours?” he muttered through a rough, cutting voice. He eyes glanced down to my kitten practically dancing around his black, worn, military boots in an effort to climb up his leg.

My eyes widened in instinct, and my whole body locked up in horror. “Y-yes,” I stammered, sort of surprised that I had been able to formulate a proper response in the first place. “He’s mine. I’m sorry, so sorry. I just—he just tried to commit cat suicide from my window—I mean, he jumped,” I rambled. “I live over there,” I told him rather bluntly, flinging an arm out back in the direction of my home for a moment. “But he must have been so distraught he had to throw himself from the window, and then he ran in here, probably so he could be alone to die, since… since animals do that…” I trailed off, beginning to mumble as my eyes wandered. Suddenly, I remembered the presence of a gun, and my eyes came back to the man. “I just want to take him home. I’ll get out of your way I just—“ I paused, clapping my hands together, trying to get Ralph’s attention, but he was far too preoccupied to care.

“So,” he began. “His name’s Ralph.” The man paused, and a very tense and awkward silence filled the air. I still wasn’t comfortable; the man clearly wasn’t comfortable, and Ralph just continued biting and scratching at the bottom of the man’s jeans. “I knew a guy named Ralph once,” the stranger commented. I merely lifted my eyebrows a bit, still terrified, but now confused on top it, which was just making everything so much worse. “He was pretty crazy.”

“I never met a Ralph before,” I squeaked almost instantly in response. “He’s named after a philosopher. Emerson. I’ve never met him, of course. That’s because he’s dead.” I would have kicked myself had I not been frozen in absolute horror. Why did I have to ramble on the way that I did? I was sure in this moment that it was going to get me murdered in the middle of the woods, yet I still couldn’t hold my tongue for more than ten seconds.

Things got quiet again, and the man’s eyes drifted off toward the east. “You live over there?” he asked nearly inaudibly, nodding in the direction of my home. “Must be nice,” the stranger quipped, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Not really,” I muttered, though I doubted that the man could even hear me. I hadn’t necessarily intended him to. Visibly shaking, I crouched down to take Ralph in my hands, but my eyes never once left that gun, no matter how loudly Ralph mewed in protest. “I just…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. My eyes were locked on the cold steel. “Please don’t use that on me,” I begged. “I really just want to take Ralph home, and I won’t even tell anyone you were here, okay, I promise,” I pleaded, staring him right in the eye, hoping that perhaps I’d receive an ounce of compassion in return.

“Look,” the man murmured, taking a step back when I grabbed Ralph. “I’m not going to do anything,” he told me, tucking the gun into his belt and pulling his jacket over it, concealing the weapon. While the smile he flashed me should have proved calming, it merely just came off as uncomfortable. Something told me that smiles didn’t grace the man’s features very often. He was very gruff-looking, a little husky, probably physically fit but also slightly malnourished. There was a crease in his brow, like he constantly had his eyes narrowed, but most importantly, his eyes didn’t crinkle up when he smiled. That’s how I knew it wasn’t genuine. I had read enough in my psychology books to know body language, and when people flashed genuine the smiles, the corners of they eyes crinkled up. This man’s were still perfectly almond-shaped.

Nevertheless, he had put the gun away, which was relief enough. I gave him a nod. “Thank you,” I said quietly.

“You can take Ralph and go,” the man told me. I was home free. I started to swivel on my heel when he said something else. “Wouldn’t want you to miss curfew,” he commented, still oozing his already characteristic sarcasm that I had already grown tired of.

I rolled my eyes and turned back. “I do not have a curfew,” I swiftly corrected him, but my eyes widened, and I jumped back in fear as I remembered my current company: the stranger in the woods wielding a gun.

Luckily for me, he just laughed. “Right,” he chuckled condescendingly. “You’re just not allowed out. Whatever you say, Princess.” With that, the man finally began to turn around and leave my presence; I was rather thankful for this not only because he nearly scared me into a heart attack but also because there wasn’t enough room in my life for somebody just as sarcastic as I was, but then he stopped. He stopped, and I heard him grunt, grumble, something under his breath. I saw a hand run through his hair, and he turned again. “You do know how to get home from here, right?”

“Um,” I stammered as my eyes began to drift all around me. Well, between the frantic rush to get my get and the ensuing anxiety attack after meeting this strange, foul-smelling, gun-toting, dystopian Lone Ranger type in the woods, it appeared that I had absolutely forgotten my path. I wanted so desperately to turn around and tell him I knew. I wanted to say I knew my way back home. After all, I was eighteen years old, and what eighteen year old couldn’t navigate herself? One who can’t go outside, I thought to myself.

On the flip side, something else occurred to me: if this man escorted me home, perhaps I could coax him into staying for a little while. We could eat food, and we could talk, and maybe I could even ask him for his name, maybe his address even, just like Aunt Sophie had given me. Opportunity dawned on me, and I had to push the smile off of my face. “No,” I quickly replied. “I really don’t remember where I’m going at all, to be frank.” Ralph had fallen asleep in my arms, as usual.

The man eyes fell upon in what appeared to be confusion for a moment, as though he didn’t understand that I didn’t know my way home. Once he wiped the surprise off of his face, no matter how subtle it was, he began to walk in another direction. “C’mon,” he called back to me, telling me to follow. “Let’s get you home then.”

I literally had to refrain from skipping beside him.

There were at least a hundred questions floating through my head while we walked through the forest, thankfully on a clearer path that didn’t tear up my feet any more. I probably could have figured my way out of the woods, truth be told. The path seemed rather straightforward, but I was glad to be in the man’s company regardless. I was intelligent enough, that much I knew; I had shelves and shelves of books stacked in my bedroom that I had read at least three times each. Though none of those books taught me navigation skills, I liked to think that I could have gotten myself home. At least, I was trying to convince myself of that.

The silence was killing me. It was so quiet that I could hear the pounding of the man’s shoes against the ground. I could hear myself breathe. I could even hear my kitten purring loudly in my arms, now covered in dirt and mud. I could hear the light thuds of my heels as they hit the pavement, already bruised and beaten from my trip through the woods.

In all honesty, I hadn’t quite expected the man to walk her home. I was glad enough he had put the gun away to begin with. Guns, honestly, horrified me. Of all of man’s great inventions, I couldn’t wrap my head around why somebody would want to create something so awful and so deadly for the sole purpose of being able to take another man’s life. In an effort to keep myself quiet and not disturb my new friend, I started to look him over, confident that he was just a few steps ahead and probably wouldn’t notice. He certainly didn’t look like he was from this part of town, at least not from what I had observed previously. Granted, everything I saw was from my window, but it acted as my own private watched tower. Nobody dressed like he did, not so casually, not in jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket, not that I had noticed. It was just rather strange to me

“Any of these yours?”

His voice snapped me from my thoughts, and suddenly, my mind scrambled to process the question. ”Um,” I muttered. ”I…” I began to say, blue eyes perusing the area. ”Oh!” I exclaimed as I looked to the house literally right beside us. ”This one is mine,” I explained with a sheepish grin. I glanced to the pristine front door, opaque white, something I assumed was to prevent strangers for seeing inside, much like the curtains on every window that were to “remain shut under any and all circumstances” according to my father’s rules.

I looked from my new friend/stranger/scary man I just met in the woods and then to the gate outside of my house when I had an idea. Before he could leave or protest, I grabbed him by the arm and tugged him through the gate, holding Ralph in my freed arm. “I certainly hope you’re hungry,” I told him, chuckling as I looked over my should and shot him a grin. “You have to be quiet though,” I explained. “My father is sleeping, but he’s a pretty heavy sleeper, so we’ll be perfectly fine.” With a swift tug, we were through the door. I closed it behind us after I finally dropped his arm. I put a finger to my lips, signaling that he had to be quiet, but he seemed preoccupied by his surroundings. No matter, I thought. I might as well give him the tour anyway, right?

Hopping ahead, I led him through the living room, describing things as we passed. Instinctively, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “This is just the living room,” I announced, assuming he was still following me. “Nothing all that special, just… a couch and a coffee table and those two ends tables,” I explained, pointing to everything as we passed. “We don’t have a television though. Don’t know why that is or why I can’t watch it.” I shrugged, and my new friend continued to follow in absolute silence, even as we passed through the archway and into the kitchen. Upon entrance, I set Ralph down on the island counter, and I headed for the fridge.

“Not too sure about what food you’re keen on, so I think I’ll just guess. I hope you don’t mind that it’s cold. Our microwave is a little bit loud, and one time, I tried to microwave a candy bar my father had stuck in the freezer because it was just too hard to eat, but I forgot to take the wrapper off, and it caught fire in the microwave, so Dad doesn’t let me use that anymore,” I rambled, mostly just thinking aloud again. I glanced over to my friend, and my face fell in confusion that he was still standing. I motioned to one of the many stools and smiled invitingly. “Sit down, will you?” I asked rather politely, at least I thought it was polite. It wasn’t often I had guests, and I was trying my best to be a good hostess.

I removed a tupperware container from the fridge full of tonight’s dinner. I grabbed my friend a fork and place it in front of him. “Don’t really remember what my father said this was, but it has shrimp in it. I think you’ll like it,” I told him as I pulled a box of chocolate cookies from the cabinet and sat down across from him. Not really paying much attention, I continued chattering as usual. “So, my name is Tali,” I told him, introducing myself as I munched on a cookie, not bothering to swallow before I continued to speaking. “This is my house, which I guess is kind of nice, I just wish… you know, I got out of it more.” I fell silent for a moment and glanced away. “I don’t really get to see people often, so I’m sorry if I seem a little enthusiastic. You’re the second person I’ve ever met aside from my father. I met my aunt Sophie last week, and that was very nice. I didn’t even know I had an aunt, imagine that!” I laughed. “She seems lovely, and I think I’d like to see her some more, but my father chased her away, and I don’t think she’ll come back. She left me her address, but I don’t really know where I’m going, and it’s difficult with my dad being… my dad.” I paused and shrugged. “Sorry. I talk a lot. Why were in the woods?” I inquired with a genuine curiosity, leaning forward as I anticipated his answer.

“Just going for a walk,” he explained (barely) as he shrugged and set the silverware down. That was hardly an answer, I thought, but it was probably considered bad form to correct one’s guest for their table manners, no matter how atrocious they were. I caught him looking down at the food, and I couldn’t tell if he was inspecting it or scowling at it with utter disgust.

“I know,” I sighed. “It’s not meant to be eaten cold.” I paused and went back to the fridge, this time reaching in the freezer compartment. I grabbed two spoons as well before I presented him a tub of chocolate ice cream. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I giggled. “Ice cream is clearly a much better choice.” I swallowed a scoop of ice creams and went back to the walking. “You’re interesting you know,” I commented with a smile. “Do people generally take walks this late?” I asked, though I had never heard of such things taking place. I never saw anyone leave or enter the woods, at least not from what I could see by my house. Without waiting for him to answer, I added, “Not to say I don’t believe you. It’s just… judging by your appearance, I’d have to say that you probably weren’t just walking.”

I wasn’t sure what I was doing. All of this was sort of just slipping out of my mouth. “I mean, even just judging by physical appearance… you know, you’ve got gunpowder residue on your clothes, which generally would mean you’ve been doing something with your gun other than holding it, and there’s dirt on your knuckles, which… unless you’re half-ape, half-man, your knuckles really shouldn’t be touching the ground when you’re walking. Plus, there’s a small trace of moisture lining your forehead, which I can only assume means you’ve just experienced a stressful situation, be it physical or emotional,” I paused to eat another scoop of ice cream. ”And I believe that’s the scent of blood I’m smelling, but we won’t discuss that.” I offered the man a smile.”But that probably all occurred before your walk in the woods, so. I suppose that’s moot.”

It didn’t occur to me that perhaps this was intrusive until the man sneered at me, and it was then that I realized I had probably offended him. “You know, there’s dirt in the woods, Princess.” Despite the man’s voice, now sharp enough to slice, Ralph had climbed over and fallen asleep in his lap. The man paused to eat a scoop of ice cream. “I guess you wouldn’t, actually, huh, Princess? With that curfew-for-life thing you’ve, and this nice house—“ the man glanced around and waved his hand, motioning to the interior. “Nope, no dirt here, except for all the mud you tracked back in here getting your cat.” He glanced down at the cat, slightly surprised it seemed, and he quieted. Had I not been so overcome with a sudden sorrow, I might have noticed the hint of regret hinging on his face.

“That was really rude,” I shot back quietly. I lowered my head in attempt to hide my tearful eyes, glassy and blue. “I’ve only spoken to three people in my life, and even I know that’s rude.” My voice was barely audible, perhaps just mere decibels above silence. I shook my head a little, and my blonde curls swayed, following. A quiet sob escaped my throat, following with a forced out breath. I tried not to watch as tears spilled on my lap, and I briefly covered my face with my hands. The sobs grew slightly louder as my hands formed loose fists, wiping furiously at my eyes, trying to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. Face now stained red and eyes matching, I looked back up at the stranger with a look of frustration. My mouth twisted up a little as I sobbed again. I merely shook my head again and glanced away from him.

”Yeah, okay, so I have nice house,” I retorted. ”I guess, but how am I supposed to know that?” I blinked again, a few more tears falling and landing against the counter top. ”I can’t even open my window. I’m not allowed to leave my curtains open and look outside. So, no, I guess I wouldn’t know. But if you really want to go there, once again judging by your looks, you don’t live around here, so I guess you wouldn’t know what being in a house like this is like, so I guess you do have a right to be bitter. And you probably… you probably have had the short end of the stick, and that’s hardened you, and that’s all well and good, but this house stops being nice the second you realize all the memories you have take place within these walls,” I rambled a bit, still not looking at him.

”Never seeing anybody… never… getting to take a walk around the block or… go smell the flowers in your own garden,” I added, voice filled with a quiet sorrow, the frustration quickly fading. The tension in my face vanished in seconds, eyebrows lifting a little, and through my tears, I attempted to smile once more, and I looked at the stranger and gave him a half-hearted laugh. ”You know, the only reason my father brought Ralph home was because we were fighting… he wouldn’t take me to go see the fireworks, and… and he tried to make it up to me by getting me a cat. I’ve only had Ralph for about a week,” I confessed, eyes looking at the kitten napping on the stranger. ”But it doesn’t…. having Ralph doesn’t change anything… it doesn’t make me feel any less lonely, you know? Don’t you know what it’s like to feel lonely? Even just once in a while?” I inquired softly, tears continuing to spill down my face.

I looked him in the eyes, and somehow, I knew then that he did. I could see it in his eyes: a lonely man who had closed him off from the world, and here I was, trying to get him to open up to me. Who knows what had happened in his life to make him this way, and who was I to judge him? It didn’t matter if I was correct or not, I supposed; I certainly didn’t appreciate his attempts at categorizing me (even if his accusations were much further off). I wanted to apologize to him, but I didn’t know how. The man surprised me, actually, by apologizing to me first.

He looked down at his hands, inspecting them. “Hey, I’m… I’m sorry.” I could tell that apologizing, much like smiling, wasn’t something the man did often. The way he shifted uncomfortably as he spoke made that very clear, and I couldn’t fight the upward turn of my lips as I watched his gaze lift back to meet mine. “I’m not very good at this,” he confessed. He offered me a soft smile, a genuine one this time, and my grin widened to show a sliver of teeth. I gave him a nod.

I blinked one final, stray tear from my left eye and chuckled softly. “It’s okay,” I told him reassuringly. I couldn’t chastise him for being bad with people. That was like the pot calling the kettle black. I took a deep breath, and I pushed a few stray strands of hair behind my ear before I leaned forward, placing one of my hands over the stranger’s and squeezing a little, taking a page out of my aunt’s book. “Neither am I,” I said.

It seemed to have the adverse effect on my friend; he tensed up and actually winced, much to my surprise. In a hurry, he pushed away from the table, waking up Ralph, who voiced his opinion with a discontented mewl. He put Ralph on the table and rose to his feet rather abruptly. “I-I should go,” he stammered before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He glanced back to me, and he scowled, with confused me. “Here,” he muttered, clearly frustrated by something as he tossed a closed switchblade across the table to me. “Keep that for the next time you run into someone in the woods. It’s sharp. Don’t hurt yourself.” With that final piece of advice, he fled. He went right through the front door and the gate, back off into the night.

As much as I wanted to scream and yell and plead for him to come back, I just watched him go. I took the switchblade in my hands and looked it over, not entirely sure of what to do with it, or even how to open it. I heaved a sigh and wiped at my eyes again, realizing that I was alone again, and much like when my aunt Sophie was forced out, I felt the familiar sting of abandonment.

A quiet sob escaped me, and Ralph brushed his head against my arm. I laughed through tears, and I forced a smile. “Thanks, Ralph,” I said to the kitten. “But I really don’t think he’s coming back either.”