The Stranger

by Kiersten Modglin

I want to tell her she’s not in my hair and demand to know who has made her feel so afraid and unwanted, but I don’t. We just met. We’re strangers, and I don’t want to overstep. Or scare her away.

And endings, I’ve come to learn, are just as satisfying.

Out here like this, it’s easy to feel like nothing else exists. Just us, the road, and the darkness.

In death, everyone becomes a hero. Otherworldly. The dead become something of myths and legends, even when everyone knows the truth. Everyone in his life must know what a stain on society he is, but now that he’s gone, it’ll all be forgotten. Forgiven. He’ll be immortalized and remembered only for his best moments. But not by me. I will make it my life’s mission to remember him for the bad.

It’s a superpower, in a way. Looking innocent when you’re anything but.

As my body finds a normal temperature and the initial euphoria of the warmth wears off, I begin to form rational thoughts again.

They’re so completely opposite, and yet I can picture living my life happily in either one. Two different lives, two different paths.

“I’m not a stray puppy dog. You didn’t rescue me.”

“I’ve always liked cats. They don’t trust anyone. I respect that.”

You’re too happy. Too trusting.” “Fair enough. I’d rather be happy and trusting than bitter and jaded.” She scowls. “Because you’ve been allowed to be. For women, for me, it’s better to be bitter, jaded, and alive than too trusting and dead.”

Once I’m dressed, I exit the bathroom again, my body drenched in sweat from the humidity of the room, fabric sticking to my skin.

Ten minutes later, I’m lying in bed, one hand above my head, the other resting on my stomach. I’m so exhausted my entire body hurts. I need to sleep, but I can’t. My mind races with more questions as I listen to the steady stream of water in the next room.

I need to clear my head and ease my worries. I need to be out of this space, if only for a few minutes.

If I hadn’t stopped tonight, I wouldn’t know this woman, and that feels impossible. And in just a few days, hours maybe, she’ll be long gone. Just a distant memory. It doesn’t seem fair.

wild and somehow fearful yet bold eyes

“He didn’t care enough to fight with me. He was too caught up in himself.”

I hate him. I want to kill him for ever making her feel so unloved and unwanted.

Our eyes meet again, and there’s that moment, that electric moment, where something charges inside of me, like a balloon being blown up or pressing your tongue to a battery. I don’t know how to explain it, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt it before. Ending the moment, she looks away.

I sit in stunned silence and darkness for what feels like an eternity. Finally, I sigh, the balloon in my chest deflating in an instant.

When you need things, the universe has a way of putting them directly in your path.

She’s thin. Easy to move. Probably skipped meals, definitely skipped dessert, to look this way. To be perfect, even in death.

I slept, though not well. I tossed and turned, uncovered and covered, struggling to find a way to be comfortable. When I’m fully awake again, I realize the struggle was likely more internal than external.

I don’t know why I feel so much comfort over that realization, but I know that I hate it.

I hate myself for trusting him, for wanting to stay with him, for telling him anything about me, and for falling asleep. I’ve gotten weak. Careless. Trusting.

Needing someone, caring about someone, trusting someone…it makes you weak. He made me weak.

A protector, maybe, but never a caretaker.

I force the thought away as I study my surroundings, searching for him in the snow. The brightness of it in contrast to the darkness of the world around us is giving me a headache.

My stomach goes hollow, almost as if it’s caving in on itself

But even as I try to convince myself I’m wrong or delusional or dreaming, I know I’m not. I know from the chill on my skin, the odd buzzing in my ears, and the yellowish glow…I know that this is real. That it’s happening and that I’ll never be the same.

I still can’t sleep, despite how tired I am. I feel this nervous energy inside of me. Jittery. Like I can’t sit still. I can’t stop moving. Adrenaline from everything that’s happened tonight perhaps, but I need it to go away. I need to breathe easier, but I have no idea how. There’s too much to stress over, too much than can and has gone wrong.

Tough times change people in the worst ways.

Not while the world is falling apart and my simple plans for this holiday weekend are unraveling at the seams.

Her eyes meet mine finally, so full of fear and uncertainty that it’s painful.

She takes my hand, and my entire body lights up, no longer cold in any sense of the word. I let her lead me around the building and up the walk to the lobby. She pushes the door open, and we step inside. The warmth of the room envelops me, and I have to wonder why I ever left the heat in the first place.

My stomach clenches, and it feels as if I’m a rubber band waiting to snap. Everything is falling apart, and this is just another domino that’s been knocked over. Another thing that has gone wrong.

The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that snowstorms make the perfect setting for murder.

Thinking of Ernest there with her alone in this sleepy little town makes me feel sad but also nostalgic in a way. Like I’m missing something I’ve never had, something I will probably never have. What Ernest and his wife have is special. It’s the dream. To have someone who will care for you even when the worst happens.

I feel minutes away from death as my exhaustion kicks in, but there’s no going back now.

Cutting through weeds may as well be cutting through concrete. It’s not easy.

I don’t like to kill when I don’t have to, but some people deserve to die. Not those kids, of course. Wrong place, wrong time. It couldn’t be helped. But him? He deserved it. And that feels good. Accomplished. Like a hard day’s work. And now, with him out of the way, I can enjoy my holiday.

Why would anyone be walking so late at night in this storm? And, if they’re walking alone…would anyone miss them?

I’m dizzy. My head spins with possibilities as I slam into brick wall after brick wall in my mind.

I try to slow my breathing. I’m doing my best to keep calm, to be stronger than I am so I don’t scare Tibby, but it’s not easy.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head, willing the thoughts away. There is no time to fall apart right now.

I’m tired. I’m so, so tired, and my body hurts, and I just need to sleep, but I can’t

They won’t want me to be in danger, no matter how much of a disappointment I am to them.

I won’t survive watching him die. I know this as much as I know I need oxygen to live, and yet I refuse to leave him or look away. I need to save him. I’d do anything to save him, but it’s impossible.

I don’t know if any of this is real, but I hope some of it is. Was.

As I fade away, as I sink into nothingness, my last thought is of how badly I hope he was real. Then it all goes black.