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Authors: Mara Purnhagen
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sister’s cozy apartment while she slept in the next room. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
“I tried.” My voice was hoarse, a heated whisper. “I apologized to Marcus. I did my best. I don’t know what else I can do.”
Had it grown bigger as I spoke? It seemed like it, but I couldn’t be sure. It took another gliding step forward. Again, the action triggered intense anger in me.
“It wasn’t my fault!” I wasn’t yelling, but my voice was definitely louder. “I didn’t kill him. I didn’t.”
The shadow stopped. I blinked, and it seemed that it had actually shrunk a little. Its head no longer touched the ceiling.
“His death was not my fault,” I repeated. The shadow stopped moving. I stared hard, convinced that it had decreased in size yet again. Not a lot, as it was still tall and imposing, but now the top of the shadow was level with the fridge.
“I did not kill Marcus. I am not responsible.”
Now the shadow was lighter, not as thick. I could almost see through it as it stood still, centered in the kitchen. My words were having a strangely positive effect, and the shadow didn’t seem to mind. It was as if he wanted to diminish, wanted to disappear completely.
I continued to speak, to say the same few sentences over and over. My voice gained a calm strength each time I said the words aloud. I wasn’t simply repeating the words, though. I was trying to believe them. I could almost hear the voices of my friends and family, who had tried so hard to encourage me to let go of my guilt. There was still so much of it burrowed inside me, but maybe I could let go of this one piece. It was a huge piece, and too much for me to carry around forever. I had looked outside of myself for a way to let go, reaching out to Mills and even Zelden. But in the end, no one could give me what I had to give myself.
Forgiveness.
“I did not kill him.”
The shadow became dimmer and smaller until it was merely a dark ball hovering near the stove.
Cautiously, I approached it and reached out my arm. My hand went through it. I felt a coldness, as if I was plunging my fingers into snow.
“I am not guilty,” I murmured.
The small shadow curled up until it fit into the palm of my hand. I gazed down at it, amazed and confused.
But not afraid.
I blew on it lightly, as if I was blowing a kiss, and it was gone.
Chapter Nine
“Where are we going again?”
My sister frowned. “No talking until I’ve finished your makeup.”
I was perfectly capable of applying my own makeup, but Annalise had insisted. I guessed it was another way for her to relieve her guilt over not being around during my visit. We were going to a special dinner, she said. Then she ironed my wrinkled green dress and ordered me into a chair so she could make sure I looked “my best.”
“I’m happy going to one of our regular places,” I told her as she brushed eye shadow over my lids. “It doesn’t need to be fancy.”
“Trust me. You’ll want to look good for this.”
“And I only look good in a dress and foundation?”
She shook her head. “Stop trying to pick a fight with me. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes and it’s going to be great.”
“Okay, but you’re not all that dressed up,” I pointed out.
She handed me a tissue. “Here. Blot your lips.”
I did as I was told. Annalise inspected her work and, apparently satisfied, decided to get herself dressed. I waited in the living room. It was amazing to me that only hours earlier I had confronted the shadow in the kitchen, that I had found a way to end my night stalker. My own guilt had created it. My own words sent it away.
I had tried calling Noah several times earlier in the day to tell him all about my encounter, but my calls kept going to voice mail until finally a computerized voice told me that his mailbox was full. He had probably left his phone at school, I thought. I would see him in less than twenty-four hours, though. My story could wait until then.
When my
“I tried.” My voice was hoarse, a heated whisper. “I apologized to Marcus. I did my best. I don’t know what else I can do.”
Had it grown bigger as I spoke? It seemed like it, but I couldn’t be sure. It took another gliding step forward. Again, the action triggered intense anger in me.
“It wasn’t my fault!” I wasn’t yelling, but my voice was definitely louder. “I didn’t kill him. I didn’t.”
The shadow stopped. I blinked, and it seemed that it had actually shrunk a little. Its head no longer touched the ceiling.
“His death was not my fault,” I repeated. The shadow stopped moving. I stared hard, convinced that it had decreased in size yet again. Not a lot, as it was still tall and imposing, but now the top of the shadow was level with the fridge.
“I did not kill Marcus. I am not responsible.”
Now the shadow was lighter, not as thick. I could almost see through it as it stood still, centered in the kitchen. My words were having a strangely positive effect, and the shadow didn’t seem to mind. It was as if he wanted to diminish, wanted to disappear completely.
I continued to speak, to say the same few sentences over and over. My voice gained a calm strength each time I said the words aloud. I wasn’t simply repeating the words, though. I was trying to believe them. I could almost hear the voices of my friends and family, who had tried so hard to encourage me to let go of my guilt. There was still so much of it burrowed inside me, but maybe I could let go of this one piece. It was a huge piece, and too much for me to carry around forever. I had looked outside of myself for a way to let go, reaching out to Mills and even Zelden. But in the end, no one could give me what I had to give myself.
Forgiveness.
“I did not kill him.”
The shadow became dimmer and smaller until it was merely a dark ball hovering near the stove.
Cautiously, I approached it and reached out my arm. My hand went through it. I felt a coldness, as if I was plunging my fingers into snow.
“I am not guilty,” I murmured.
The small shadow curled up until it fit into the palm of my hand. I gazed down at it, amazed and confused.
But not afraid.
I blew on it lightly, as if I was blowing a kiss, and it was gone.
Chapter Nine
“Where are we going again?”
My sister frowned. “No talking until I’ve finished your makeup.”
I was perfectly capable of applying my own makeup, but Annalise had insisted. I guessed it was another way for her to relieve her guilt over not being around during my visit. We were going to a special dinner, she said. Then she ironed my wrinkled green dress and ordered me into a chair so she could make sure I looked “my best.”
“I’m happy going to one of our regular places,” I told her as she brushed eye shadow over my lids. “It doesn’t need to be fancy.”
“Trust me. You’ll want to look good for this.”
“And I only look good in a dress and foundation?”
She shook her head. “Stop trying to pick a fight with me. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes and it’s going to be great.”
“Okay, but you’re not all that dressed up,” I pointed out.
She handed me a tissue. “Here. Blot your lips.”
I did as I was told. Annalise inspected her work and, apparently satisfied, decided to get herself dressed. I waited in the living room. It was amazing to me that only hours earlier I had confronted the shadow in the kitchen, that I had found a way to end my night stalker. My own guilt had created it. My own words sent it away.
I had tried calling Noah several times earlier in the day to tell him all about my encounter, but my calls kept going to voice mail until finally a computerized voice told me that his mailbox was full. He had probably left his phone at school, I thought. I would see him in less than twenty-four hours, though. My story could wait until then.
When my
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