Insidious(37)

“Thanks for all the help.” Snatching the clipboard, I caught a glimpse at the personal photo on the desk of her affectionately kissing a giggling little boy who I assumed was her son. The sight only made it more disheartening at the evident lack of empathy she was showing me at the existing moment.

Was this really going to be my life now in Mystic Harbor? The town’s pariah? A local leper? My mind suddenly digested the facts of what just happened. Who the hell was going to believe me? What was I even going to say?

‘Yes, Officer. A gigantic wolf chased me down, turned into a man, and tried to kill me, but he was then murdered by a crazy invisible guy. You won’t find the wolfman’s body though, because he was somehow incinerated into a pile of kitty litter. Any questions?’

Might as well just fit me for a straitjacket now and spare anyone the trouble.

“Miss?”

I snapped out of my trance to acknowledge the elder woman sitting across from me. She looked back at me expectantly, and I realized she must have said something that I’d completely missed.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re bleeding.”

I followed her line of vision to my left leg to see a dark, damp stain running down the length of my shin, and a small trail of blood leaked out onto the top of my white sneakers. My adrenaline high must have muted the pain, because I’d barely paid mind to the pain after I’d gotten away from the weirdo from the alley. I muttered a thank-you before setting down my clipboard and darting to the hallway. Even then as I walked on the injured leg, it barely hurt.

I scanned the labels on the doors, finally finding the one with the sign of the restroom stick people stamped on it. It was a unisex bathroom with only one toilet, so I was able to lock the door for privacy. Last thing I needed was to make some innocent bystander sick at the sight of me mopping up a bunch of blood from a gushing wound.

I gingerly rolled up my pant leg, seeing blood encrusted all over the side of my calf. Thankfully, the bathroom was stocked with paper towels and not just a hand blower, so I pumped the lever and collected a mitt full, soaking them under the running faucet. With a little soap lathered up in the towels, I gently started rubbing the fabric over my skin, awaiting the painful sting as I’d eventually run over wherever the wound was hiding beneath the caked mess.

Where was it?

Disbelief washed over me as I finished cleaning up the majority of the blood, finding not a single cut.

I hadn’t imagined it. I’d pulled a huge shard from my leg. And I held the evidence in my hands. I’d been bleeding. Profusely.

Grabbing another set of paper towels, I scrubbed the skin again, removing every last morsel of blood. This time I discovered a faint pink line running down the side of my leg. Was that…a scar?

The doorknob suddenly rattled, forcing me out of my trance. A knock followed, along with a plea to use the facilities.

“Just a second!” I collected all the bloody cloths and tried my best to clean up the mess I’d made around the sink, tossing the evidence into the trash bin. For safe measure, I grabbed some more unused towels and dumped them into the garbage as well, using them to hide the reddened fabric resting on top.

Darting out of the bathroom, I made a beeline straight for the exit. I instinctively dug around in my purse for my phone, coming to the realization once again that it wasn’t there. My mind scrambled, trying to figure out my next move.

How could I file a police report about an assault if I didn’t have any evidence? How did a three-inch gash miraculously heal in under an hour? What the hell was happening to me?

For the first time, I honestly wished my crazy stalker would show up. He seemed to be the only one who may have answers. And that acknowledgement hit me hard. If I told Carly and Vanessa about what was happening to me, they’d think I was having some PTSD episode, and I shuddered to even consider what my mom and dad would do. The only person I could turn to who probably wouldn’t wish to wrap me up in a straitjacket over my hysterical rantings was a killer.

Wait…

Adam.

The thought came out of nowhere, and nothing honestly sounded better. Even if I couldn’t tell him everything about what was happening, I still knew he’d be there. Adam always reserved judgment, and I could trust him enough to know he wouldn’t go blabbing about this to anyone. He’d always been able to comfort me in the past, and even all things considered, I doubted he’d disappoint me now.

If memory served me right, there was a payphone inside the café just down the block. I jogged over to Nan’s Diner, breathing a sigh of relief at the red vintage phone booth tucked in the corner as I walked in the restaurant. Slinking past the tables and booths, I made my way to the back, opening up the glass encased door and stepping inside the kiosk. Thankfully, it wasn’t just a novelty piece, because I was met with a dial tone as I lifted up the phone receiver upon feeding it change.