A story

It was 6 in the morning. She sat by the window, looking out at the water. There was barely any wind, she could tell, as the sea was quiet. No waves.
She opened the window and lit a cigarette, then thought better of it. She chucked it out the window instead, knowing that she would go out and pick it up later, because it would bother her to leave it there. She despised littering.
She took a deep breath, feeling a little better as the salty smell of the sea seeped into her, filling her with calm. At least for a little while.
It was still dark outside; Fall was slowly turning into Winter. She didn’t mind the cold though – she liked the feeling of numbness in her body after spending all day outside in the snow.
The house didn’t have any radiators. It barely had electricity. It was an old house, a beach house really, not meant for anyone to live their all year round. It had a furnace, for cold nights occurred even in the Summer. Plus, she had added a few gas heaters – one in the kitchen, and a small one in the bathroom. It would get freezing out there without a heater.
Sometimes she would miss having a radiator. The ease of controlling the temperature, the ability to hang clothes on there so they could dry faster, in case she wanted to wear that particular outfit on that particular day. But that really wasn’t necessary out here…  not at all. Outfits didn’t matter. She barely saw anyone at this time of year. Only the mail man, that would stop by one a week, maybe, with one of the few luxuries she allowed herself from the outside world: glossy magazines with pretty models and popular fashion and stupid quizzes on What Color Represents Your Personality and so on. And then, when she’d go to the grocery store, once or twice a week, she’d buy a pack of cigarettes she wouldn’t smoke anyway, and a few necessities, such as peanut butter. If someone asked her what her favorite kind of food was, she’d instantly reply, without hesitation: peanut butter. But that’s not food, they’d argue. Such ignorant people.
She was glad to be rid of them.
Of course, she’d need bread as well, and jam, for peanut butter-jelly sandwiches. To balance it out, her diet consisted mainly of vegetables and beans. This time of year it would mainly be frozen vegetables though, as the store didn’t order as many groceries since it was off-season. Those were the people she would see, no one else. And they really didn’t care if she wore those skinny jeans and that sweater or that shirt with that skirt. It made everyday life so much simpler.

There wasn’t much to do out there, and she liked that. She liked the quiet. Sick of the noise, sick of all the voices, she had to get out. She knew it wasn’t the best thing, to run from your problems, not dealing with the mistakes you’ve made, just running from the mess and leaving it behind. But she just didn’t have it in her, it had gotten out of control, and so she ran. No one would think to look for her here. She hoped.

In the quiet, no one could interrupt her thoughts. No one looking at her strangely when she would talk to herself out loud. Some thoughts were just better expressed with sound. She wrote a lot more songs out here, at least one every other day, which was a relief. She thought she’d lost that forever.

The sun was slowly rising, and she imagined how the heat of the sun must feel, all the way up there in the sky. What it would smell like. How it would taste. Yeah, she wondered what the sun tasted like.

She was spacing out when she heard a knock. She waited. Double knock. Waited. Triple knock. She sighed. They obviously weren’t going to go away.

It was a young woman, smiling, holding flyers with crosses on them. The woman asked if she could talk to her about God.

“No.”

The woman’s smile faltered a little. “How about a cup of tea? It’s a bit chilly…”

“No.”

This woman wouldn’t go away.

Then, her facial expression changed. She put the flyers back in her shoulder bag.

“I really need you to let me inside.”

She would not entertain this strange lady any more and closed the door right in her face. Returned to the living room to perhaps light another cigarette. She jumped when she saw the woman standing outside her patio door, with the same strange expression on her face.

“You need to let me in.”

“I don’t need to do anything. Get the fuck off my property.”

The woman didn’t move an inch. Something in the air changed.

“This is not how I wanted this to go,” she said.

“What the fuck do you want?”

And then the woman disappeared.

 

She was contemplating calling the police but thought better of it. She didn’t want any unnecessary attention. She was just going to wait and see if the freak would return. Staying inside for the next few days with the curtains drawn seemed like as good a plan as any.

 

She spent the day reading, doing yoga, meditating, writing. At least, she attempted to do all those things. But her mind was occupied with that stupid woman. She had some peanut butter sandwiches and went to bed early.

 

She woke up in the middle of the night, screaming, covered in sweat, tears running down her cheeks, heaving for breath. It was as if something heavy had been sitting on her chest, and it had felt like her bones were breaking. She tried to calm herself down and tried to remember what the hell she’d been dreaming about, but it was just black. Nothing there at all. It was pitch black in her room, and she stumbled out of bed to turn on the light.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move. She turned, and instantly wished that she hadn’t.

The woman was standing right next to the bed. She was bleeding from her wrists and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“I told you to let me in.”