Whispers

Emilia wakes up in a cold sweat, staring at the digital clock blaring 3:47 A.M., startled awake by the same nightmare that has plagued her sleep for the past nine years. Hyperventilating, she does her best to ground herself. Hands on her blanket. The scent of stale sweat on her pillowcase. She looks to her pet parrot, Anwir, for comfort. His beak looks like a smile. The nightmare is over. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

“That dream was real, don’t you know,” the parrot quawks. “You just don’t want to remember it.”

It’s not true, Emilia tells herself. And she’s right—but Anwir won’t allow her to believe it.

“You’re not safe here.”

She looks into the grimy bathroom mirror, fingerprints and soap splashes coating the glass. Her reflection stares back, barely recognizable.

“That’s not your face. Break the glass, and you’ll see.”

Block it out. Don’t listen to his words.

“Free her!”

“No!” She shouts at the reflection, at Anwir.

She composes herself and tiptoes through the fridge for any scrap of sustenance, but alas, it is a barren wasteland inside. The last time Emilia went grocery shopping was two weeks ago, as she recalls, for it didn’t go as smoothly as planned. Panic attacks, paranoia, the whole nine yards. If she wants to eat today, she must conquer her fears and go.

“I’m leaving you here. You can’t come with me today,” she tells Anwir. He laughs back at her, a manic cackling.

“You can’t get away that easily.”

She heeds not his warning and heads to her local grocer. It is a meager five minutes away—plenty of time for Anwir to speak up if he followed her to the car. Music blasts from the speakers, loud enough to silence her thoughts. If he is present, it isn’t talking over the song. She turns it up a few notches higher just to be safe. It works.

Shopping goes blissfully quick. Eggs, milk, meat, and perhaps a sweet treat to reward herself for coming out here. Emilia skips over to the pre-made cookies and adds a bag to her cart. She deserves this.

Anwir is silent.

No—don’t think about it. Don’t welcome it back into your mind. Let yourself be happy for once. It’ll be okay.

The line is long at the register, and Emilia makes it one person longer. She taps her foot as she waits patiently for her turn. A young man in a black coat joins behind her.

Anwir perches himself on Emilia’s shoulder. “Thought you could get rid of me that easily?”

He’s back. Why is he back?

“See that man behind you? He’s going to kill all of you. He’s got a gun under his coat.”

Go away, she thinks.

“I’m trying to help you, Emilia. He’ll kill the cashier and hold you hostage until he kills you as well.”

No, he won’t.

“Just wait and see.”

Could he be telling the truth? Surely not, but the thought haunts her. The cashier bags the groceries and pays no attention to the man Anwir seems to hate. It is Emilia’s turn next.

“It’s about to happen. Are you ready to fight?”

Please don’t be true.

“Picture it: you get up to the counter, smiling like an unaware imbecile. That’s when he strikes. He’ll shoot the ceiling first and demand the money in the register. The cashier will want to be a hero and say no, but this only enrages the man to the point of shooting him. Then, he’ll grab the person closest to him—that’s you. You are the collateral. He’ll hold you captive until he gets what he wants. People will scream, but nobody will try to save you. They are too cowardly. He’ll start shooting everyone around you, forcing you to watch them die, unable to fight back.”

The cashier reaches for Emilia’s items, and the beep of the scanner interrupts Anwir. The man is still behind her. He may have looked harmless before, but now all she could see was the vision of him with a gun. Him holding her there, unable to escape.

Her groceries are all in the bag. The register opens, then shuts, and all is well. She hurries out of there and back to the parking lot, keys between her knuckles—just in case.

“You lied to me,” Emilia muttered under her breath.

“I could’ve been right, though. I was protecting you.”

A woman and her child walk hand-in-hand into the store.

“See them? You should stab the woman with your keys and take the kid.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“You’ve always said you wanted a kid.”

“Not like that!”

“You know you want to.”

Emilia slips the keys into her pocket. Can’t stab anyone if she’s not holding anything.

“Fine. You’d probably wind up killing the poor cretin, anyway.”

The drive home always feels longer than the drive there. She is hyper-aware of her surroundings now, courtesy of Anwir. A silver truck with no headlights on pulls up behind her. Paranoia brews in Emilia’s head.

“He’s following you.”

“Stop it.”

“Just look at him! He’s right on your bumper. He’s going to see you turn onto your road, follow you in, and kill you.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Make three right-hand turns. If I’m correct—and I am—he will make the same turns as you.”

Emilia turns right, and the truck turns as well. She forgoes the signal this time. He still follows.

“Okay, you’re right. Happy now?”

“Make the third turn, then we’ll see.”

She turns right one more time. The truck, however, continues straight. He’s not following her anymore.

“I’m safe now, right?”

“Not quite. Just because he’s not following now doesn’t mean he isn’t still watching. He will be back. He knows your car now. There’s nowhere to go from here.”

The final right-hand turn brings her to a dead-end. She turns the car around and goes back out the way she came.

“You need to crash the car. Abandon it. Leave everything behind and just run.”

“Why–”

“Would you stop asking questions and just trust me?”

Emilia pulls onto the main drag. She’s done listening to him.

“Run the car through that guardrail. Do it now before you miss the chance!”

“You missed the guardrail. Pull into the woods. Hit the biggest tree you can find.”

“Light the vehicle on fire if you have to. Destroy it and get out of there.”

“Didn’t you hear me? Pull over right now!”

“Family crossing the street!”

Emilia slams on her brakes, thrusting herself and Anwir forward into the dash. The street is clear. No pedestrians anywhere in sight. As she rubs her eyes and blinks, trying to regain her composure—her sanity—a new vision floods her eyes. The family stands in the middle of the right-hand lane, semi-transparent. A mom, a dad, and a little girl huddle in front of Emilia’s parked car. They are frozen in time, each wearing horrified expressions on their faces. High beams come into the rear-view mirror. Closer. Closer. It is her car approaching. Emilia braces for impact, only it fazes right through her. It comes out in front of her and runs down the family, continuing off until she can no longer see it in the distance.

The family is scattered across the otherwise empty street. Emilia jumps out of her vehicle and rushes to the spot where the little girl landed. The child is covered in blood and mud and fading into the ground. Emilia tries to take the girl’s withering hand, but as she does, the child vanishes. She’s not there.

“Come back! I’m so sorry!”

But there is no response. Emilia looks around, bewildered at the scene before her, and joins Anwir in the car, defeated.

She is gone.