Experiment in Terror 09 Dust to Dust(34)

“I’m worried about you,” she said and that’s when I knew that the whole thing must have been in my head. If she had seen my reflection move separately from my body, she wouldn’t just be worried. She would be freaking the fuck out times a million.

Kind of like how I was feeling. And I know I should have told her what I was seeing but I didn’t see why giving her another reason to worry about me would have helped.

“Don’t be worried,” I said, but that wasn’t going to change her mind at all. I stepped out into the hallway and made a mental note to avoid all mirrors. “So when do your parents get here?”

“They’re already here,” she said sternly. I sat down on the bed and looked at her. She really was all dressed and ready to go and, more than that, she had her battle face on, the stance she got when she was about to face her parents. To my admiration she looked less afraid and more combative. She’d changed a hell of a lot this year, especially when it came to standing up to her parents. I didn’t think they were necessarily bad people but they certainly didn’t make things easy for either of us.

“Okay,” I told her, wishing I had other clothes to put on than the ones I had been found in yesterday. “I’ll be ready in a second.”

I quickly pulled on my pants and shirt and wondered how Perry would feel about a shopping spree this afternoon. She usually liked that kind of shit and what better place to do it than New York. I’d pay her all back, of course, so as long as I didn’t have to keep wearing the same pair of briefs for days.

I was ready fast and thought she’d be impressed, but instead she just came over to me and put her hand over my chest. I automatically put my hand over hers.

“What were you doing in there?” she asked, unwilling to let it go.

My mind immediately conjured up the image of me screaming at myself. I swallowed the bubble of fear and put a smile on my face. “Jacking off, naturally.”

She narrowed her eyes but seemed to be happy with that answer. Good to know. She was going to make a fabulous wife.

I grabbed her hand and together we went out into the hall, about to take the elevator to the lobby where she said her parents already were. But as soon as she pressed the button, she seemed to think twice about it and said, “Come on, let’s take the stairs.”

Just then the elevator doors opened, empty and beckoning. “Are you sure, cuz it’s kind of here and everything…”

For whatever reason, fear came over her eyes, her pupils becoming tiny pinpricks, but she brushed it off like she did to her hair as she pushed it behind her shoulders.

“All right,” I conceded, following her to the stairwell and heading down the echoing stairs. It didn’t matter what building you were in, all stairwells had this impersonal, institutional and cold feeling to them, the doors shutting you in like you’re being locked into prison. I didn’t know why this was preferable to the elevator and I was just about to ask when rounded the sixth floor and she nodded to it.

“Ada says there’s a demon on this floor. Our elevators have been stopping there.”

Again, the image of me in the mirror, me but not me, grinning like I was going to eat myself alive, burned behind my eyes and my skin immediately erupted into goose bumps.

At any other time I would have brought up the fact that it could make a great EIT episode, that we should explore it and film it, but now, even though EIT no longer existed, there was nothing I wanted less. I wanted to stay as far away from anything supernatural as possible. I was way too fucking weirded out to take on any extracurricular scary shenanigans.

“That’s just fucking great,” I said.

Soon though we were out of the concrete prison of the stairwell and into the lobby that toed the line between classy and try-too-hard trendy. I mean, a carafe of cucumber water is a nice touch but does anyone need house music piped over the speakers or neon pink fringe pillows? I think not.

And, over there, on the white leather couches adorned by the aforementioned pillows was Mr. and Mrs. Palomino. They didn’t look happy.

That said, they didn’t look like they wanted to kill us either, which I thought was progress. Usually they looked at me as if I’d just talked about slaughtering puppies, even when I was just waving hello. Of course it could all have something to do with the fact that I dare to open my mouth around them, and, well, I knew from life experience that my mouth got me in trouble more often than not.

“Perry,” her mother said, holding out her arms getting to her feet. She looked great – I hoped one day I liked the woman enough to admit that she was a total babe – even though she looked utterly drained, the same kind of look in her blue eyes that I’d seen in Ada’s the other day.