Daydreamer

  “I did it because I’m a great friend, and I know a great girl when I see one, despite how long we’ve known each other. I feel like I’ve known you forever. When I’m with you, time slows for a second, but then speeds back up when you’re gone, until the next time we meet. I know I sound . . . cliché, but that’s how I feel.” He gets up and walks towards me slowly. I back up in the same motion, until I get to the door. He continues to walk towards me, until I can feel the breath from his nose on my forehead.

  “Thank you, again, but you have to understand . . . I need a friend right now.” I breathe, opening his door, and squeezing out as quickly as I could. He watched me as I sped to my door and enclosed myself in temporary comfort.

  When I get back, I sit on the couch . . . not even giving Chelsea a second look. Now that my interaction with Chris is limited, I needed my old distraction. I picked up my phone and called David.

  “Hey, is there anything new? No updates?” I pushed. I could hear him stumble on the phone.

  “Uh, you already know that Bridget was released. We didn’t get anything useful from the laptop; most of it was your online traffic. This is a tough one.” He sighed.

  “Use me as bate.” I blurt out. I almost meant it, but quickly regretted it after the words left my mouth.

  “How about I think about that, I have to go.” No, really, you don’t have to think about it . . . it was dumb for me to say.

  “Um, alright, you know what, I have to go too.” I explain in a low tone into the phone.

  I lift my glance to look up at Chelsea, but she was gone. She’s probably in my room. I need something to do, but instead of doing anything outside of the house, I decide to watch one of those home videos that I took from my parents’. This was the most harmless thing I could do right now.

  This was Marie’s fourth birthday. She was in a princess gown, flip-flops and a tiara. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, smiling at the camera. My mom was holding it, and my dad was in the background dealing with eleven-year old me. It looked like I was trying to explain something important to him, because I used my hands profusely.

  Meanwhile, my mom’s hands were in the camera, motioning for my dad and I to hurry up. We hustled over, because it was time to light the candles, and sing happy birthday. I smiled, but I have no idea if I meant it. When we sang, Marie danced gracefully around the table, taking in the glory that her big day brought her.

  I had my eleventh birthday a few months prior, I went to a carnival. Marie seemed to have more fun than I did at both parties. She was always a happy person; I was the troubled one, the sarcastic one. Marie was a perfectionist, and I wasn’t, not by a long shot. My hair was curly and poufy, flailing with the wind. Marie had a ponytail, her hair slicked back into a less poufy, but still curly bun. Our hairstyles described our contrast when it came to personality, one hundred percent.

  I was the brooding, sassy one, I guess you could say. I was a lot to handle, but Marie kept my parents sane.

  As they sang, I sang along, of course. I didn’t hate Marie, I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I wasn’t upset over Marie; it wasn’t jealousy. I think an older kid came over and started to mess with me, about thirteen. I don’t think I was into boys yet, but he sure was into girls. After singing, I stared at my younger self; I kept glancing back at someone. There was a boy, standing far in the distance, and judging from my face, I wanted him to leave.

  My dad swept Marie and I away to the gifting table. Marie had about twelve gifts, and she was so stoked about it. Seeing her so happy made me smile a little bit, no matter how upset I was. When I turned back around, he was walking away with this blonde girl, who seemed closer to his age than I was. They weren’t walking away while holding hands or anything; they seemed . . . comfortable with each other, like family. I’d never seen them before, they must have been related to one of my mom’s friends.

  I turned back to Marie, opening a Barbie set. There were four Barbie dolls in it, and they came with accessories. I can tell by the look on my face that I’d be the one playing with those later.

  After she was done with everything, I helped my dad throw away the wrappers, and clean up the mess that had been created. We all ate cupcakes, played, and then my mom put the camera down suddenly. It was facing where she had ran off to. She ran off to that kid, that girl, another boy, and an older woman. Before I could really try and guess what was going on, Marie’s dress appeared in front of the camera and she picked it up.

  I could still see a little bit of my mom, but not over Marie’s big head. I couldn’t understand what Marie said; she wasn’t a baby, but her words slurred. She didn’t even pronounce half of what she was trying to say correctly.

  “Today is my birfday.” She turned the camera towards me. I knew she wasn’t supposed to be playing with that, but I couldn’t bring myself to take it away from her. After all she wasn’t doing anything harmful. “This is my tister, Katrina.” I loved how she couldn’t roll her “r” just right to get ‘Katarina’ out, the way mom said it.

  I stand back to make sure I was in frame, and I waved at the camera. “How old did you just turn, Marie?” I asked, taking the camera away from her, and pointing it at her.

  She put up four fingers and said, “This many,” I giggled.

  “How many is that?” I coax, trying to get her to say the actual number.

  She counted her fingers slowly until she came up with the conclusion that she was four. I give her a thumb up. My mom comes stomping back towards us, and I hurry up and turn off the camera.

  My television screen went back.

  Chapter 20

  It’s been two weeks, and I’ve only spoken to Chris a hand full of times, and it was to say ‘hey’ in the hall. What’s really been weird is that Chelsea has been coming home at late hours, and sometimes texts me saying that she’d see me in the morning. I decide to confront her about her whereabouts, much like she does to me.

  “So, where’s this new hotspot you’ve been spending your time lately? I could get out ya know.” I asked. She avoided my stare and went straight to the kitchen.

  “I’ve been helping my dad out around his house.” She shrugged. “He has a new girlfriend, and apparently, it’s getting pretty serious.” What Chelsea was saying sounded like the truth, classic Mr. Mason. But that might not be why she’s been out. I decide not to push on the subject; if she doesn’t want to talk about it . . . we don’t have to, right now.

  “What I said still stands, I need to get out.” I say, getting up and grabbing my keys. I had no known destination in mind; it just had to be outside of this apartment. “Do you want to come?” I asked. She shook her head, without looking at me.

  On my way out of the door, I stopped. “Oh! I have some home videos; I think you’re in a few of them. We should definitely make an appointment to just sit down and watch them.” She nods me off and I leave. Chelsea wasn’t being Chelsea, but then again, for a while now, I haven’t been myself. I should just give her some space and let her come to me.

  Déjà vu just slapped me in the face. When I get out to my car, there’s a note attached to my windshield. Can’t be a parking ticket or anything, there’s one person I could think of who could have wrote this. That person happens to not have a face. I look around before slowly approaching my car and taking the note.

  I unravel the paper and it read: “I took a break. Don’t worry; I won’t be taking any more of those. You are my top priority now. ;)”

  Now I have a destination in mind, the police station.

  I knew it wasn’t over, but I was kind of slowly moving past it and slightly forward with my life. We haven’t heard from him in so long that David was going to call this a cold case, and file me away. They had no more leads, and this guy wasn’t making any more moves, until now.

  This letter isn’t a lead per say, but anything that happens automatically goes to David. He needs to know now, he needs to stay on his toes, and so do I.

  On the way there, I couldn�
��t help but crumble the note up in my fists so hard, that my nails started to pierce into my palms. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was bleeding.

  What made it even worse was that these feelings were all too familiar. I’ve felt this way before, constantly, and I couldn’t help but to wonder when he would call it quits.

  I walk into the station slowly, scoping the area for David, but found Clef. I rush over to him as if I didn’t get rid of this note right now . . . I would self-destruct. I slid the crumbled-up note into his hands before we could formally say hello.

  “It’s not over,” I say, clutching my jaw. “According to this note, it’s far from over.” He leads me to David’s desk, and shows him the note. They both exchange silent concerns.

  “Uh,” I hurry. I wanted to yell, jump, and scream like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Toddlers are defenseless, and vulnerable; I guess that explains how I feel. Like the only way I could be heard is if I jump, and wave my hands in the air, screaming my piece.

  David went over to a file he had resting on his desk. It was filled with case related things. When he opened it all the way, I saw a wad of Bridget’s hair, a clip-it of a white rose, some of the letters that have been left for me to find, the glove, and a few select off-guard photos of me. My laptop was sitting next to it.

  “When can I get that back actually?” I asked, as he stuffed the recent note into the folder.

  “You get this back when I close the case.” He spoke. I shift my stance a bit, leaning more on my right leg than the other.

  “Have you been seeing the team assigned to watch you?” Clef asked. Obviously, this team should have seen someone putting a note on my car. It’s like every time I’m targeted, they have to replace the team for not doing their job.

  “Well,” I breathe. “It was nice, while it lasted.” I bite my lips.

  “What was nice?” Clef asked.

  “The silence,” Though it was silence, my life was rowdy, in a good way. I was rustling around with my mom, kissing and yelling at Chris, and trying to figure out what’s wrong with Chelsea. All that drama acted more like, silence.

  I lost my train of thought when David decided to say more than a few words. “I have a theory.” He looks at me, I look at him, Clef looks at him, and he returns Clef’s stare. “Maybe this guy is in love with you. Some of his gestures are romantic, and he’s never tried to physically hurt you . . . only the people around you. Maybe this is some jerk-off who you’ve rejected in the past, yeah?” He asked.

  “I was never one for relationships. No one has ever tried; everyone knew how I was. I guess you could say I have commitment issues.” I admit, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Solid theory, but we can’t forget that more than one person has been writing these letters. Who would help somebody pursue an old flame this way?” Clef adds. They completely ignored what I said about NOT having any old flames. David shrugs, and takes Clef to the back with the files and my laptop. They didn’t say what they were doing, they just left.

  “Back to the drawing board,” I whisper, turning to leave.

  ………………………………………………………………………………

  When I get back in my car, I get lost in the fascinating train wreck that I called my life. Usually, I’d be crying my eyes out by now, and it’s a shame that I feel somewhat used to what’s happening. I told myself before, no more crying, though it would be understandable if I did.

  When I get back in, another one of my picture frames were knocked over. This wouldn’t be Chelsea’s first time knocking it down, but I’m surprised she didn’t pick it up, so I do. I go to the kitchen to shift through the food I imagined we had.

  A knock sounded at the door. A sequence of pounding, twice. Pause. Twice. Pause. My stomach turned upside down, as I waited there in the kitchen, frozen. I felt something trying to claw its way out of my throat and onto the floor.

  I wait there, hoping that it would go away. Twice. Pause. Twice. My hands began to shake and every bone in my body wanted to collapse and leave me wilting on the floor.

  I walk slowly towards the door, as I go for the knob, flashbacks of the day Marie died slapped me in the face. That day, the exact same knock that I am hearing now, sounded right before I opened the door for that man. This is him. He’s here, for me, and I’m not sure if I’m going to make it out of this one.

  Before I open the door, I run to my phone, and dial 911. I whispered into the phone, “This is Katarina McCollum, can you please send a team to my address, I think someone is trying to kill me.” My whisper turned into more of a whimper. I was practically sobbing on the phone; my eyes were glassy, but my tears were keeping their promise on staying at bay.

  “If you could calm down and give me your address ma’am.” The dispatcher asks. THE SAME ADDRESS YOUR USELESS OFFICERS ARE ROTATING LIKE A GAME OF MUSICAL CHAIRS.

  “My name is . . .” I try calm down and repeat very slowly. “Katarina McCollum.” The knock sounds again, and I hang up, abruptly. After I hang up the phone, I try and approach the door again. I know it would be dumb to open the door, like I did the first time. But if he came to finish the job, it pains me to say that I wish he would.

  I open the door to a familiar face, a face that completely pained me to see . . . Chris.

  Chapter 21

  I force a smile, as much as I tried not to, a tear managed to escape from one of my eyes. Damn you. “Chris, what are you doing here?” I asked, obviously I had a pretty good idea. I wipe the tear from my cheek before he could focus on it.

  “I want to take you somewhere,” He flat out admitted. His facial expression was stone straight, and mine was falling apart.

  “Uh, okay, let me, let me grab my keys.” I smiled, wiping my face once more. He didn’t even ask me what was wrong, which was what assured me that he wasn’t trying to charm me, as before.

  He stayed in the doorway. I grabbed my keys, silently and then snuck into my room. I looked out of my window to see if the squad car that was supposed to be on watch, was outside. They weren’t. So, I decide to mess up my room, to show signs of struggle. To at least try and hint that I didn’t leave willfully, and that they should definitively search for me. Though, after that phone call, I assume that if I’m not here, that’s means for an automatic search party. I took the covers off my bed, knocked over everything on my dresser, and opened all my drawers. That was all I could do before making Chris suspicious.

  “I’m . . . ready. I had to look for them.” I croaked, swinging my keys in the air. That would explain all the noise I just made in my bedroom. I slowly walk outside with him, we got into his truck, and we drove off without a hitch. No sirens, no interruptions, nothing. It’s crazy how I’m making this huge assumption based off the way he knocked. It’s crazy, I know, but I’m sure of it. Not like I was sure about Tiger09, because deep down I felt bad for him and didn’t want it to be him. I wanted somebody to blame, and he was the closest one. He was the only one, until Brent, until now.

  “You okay?” He finally asked. “You look a bit flushed.” He continued. Considering I had a bit of a tinted gold complexion, it was a bit easy to tell that my face was as red as a cherry and my eyes were bright pink from crying—or from trying not to cry.

  “Where are we going?” I asked him. Ignoring everything he said. At this point if it wasn’t a confession, I didn’t want to hear a word he had to say.

  “Somewhere to help you realize that you can trust me,” He put his hand on my thigh, I quickly moved away. I tried not to show him that something was up, but I couldn’t let him touch me. Not after what he’s done to my family, and how he sat there, and let me kiss him. I kissed the killer of my sister; I almost loved the killer of my sister.

  “You know why I said to take things slow right? We’ve only known each other for a couple of months.” I exclaim. After my tone, I quickly straighten up and fix myself.

  “People have fallen in love in less time. You sure, that you’re okay?” He pushed.
<
br />   “I just told you that ‘we’ needed to cool down. Friends don’t touch friends’ thighs.” I replied; a bit calmer. I looked over at him from the side of my eye, and that might have set him off. He clutched his jaw and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. From the way he looked, I was kind of scared he was going to hit me. But he would never, not if he’s the same Chris that he wants me to see.

  “When we get there, you’ll change your mind.” He murmured; his tone filled with anguish. I couldn’t begin to comprehend why Chris was doing this. After that night with Marie, he could have run and never came back, but he moved in practically next door.

  We drive for a few more minutes before we arrive at the church. The same church he used the white roses to lead me to. We pull into the parking lot, and he doesn’t flinch to get out, neither do I.

  “Can I use your phone? I left mine back at the apartment. I have to call my boss.” He asked, looking over at me. My palms begin to sweat, as I feel my back pockets for my phone.

  “I’m sure your boss will be fine.” I said, not wanting to give him the only thing that might save my life.

  “Katarina, why—” He started.

  “How do you know my name?” I returned his stare. Now, my eyes were daring, despite the smart thing to do. When we first met, and from there on out, he has called me Kate.

  “I had a chat with your mother when we took the boxes to the car together. She called you Katarina, why would you want to hide such a beautiful name?” He stared at me, and for a long moment we just sat there, staring. After a while I thought that he was staring into my soul and could read my thoughts. Bastard. Just in case.

  He breaks our gaze and gets out the car. I try to get out, but quickly noticed the child locks were on. Why the hell would he have child locks on his car? Though, that bugged me, I was grateful that he dropped the conversation about my phone. He took his time walking over to my side of the car and opening the door.