The Man with Cold Hands (Part Two)

Part One

My eyes widened.  Was he speaking to me?  His lips didn’t so much as twitch.  How could I hear him?  I looked around the room, slowly pulling myself up from the floor.

The Man continued to stare at me.

“Is your mind empty?  Why do you not answer me?”  The voice growled in my head.  I was frightened, and I backed away slowly from The Man.  Of course my mind wasn’t empty.  Inside, I was screaming out for help, but no one, not even The Man could hear me.

“Perhaps it’s that box,” The Man turned his eyes to the ceiling, “or perhaps you’re one of them.  I will find out.”  He turned his face back to me, his eyes fading with sadness, “I wonder if you know.”

The darkness in the room broke with light from the door opening.  I could hear the precise heels of the woman in white as she walked through the room.  I looked down to The Man, but his eyes were closed and his face returned to a death-like expression once again.  I sighed with relief.  I knew my mind was failing.  I didn’t know for how long though.  I couldn’t remember where I started.

I could hear the woman walk through the glass into my box, but I faced the other way.  I felt sicker every time she came.  I felt more pain.  I felt weaker.  I cried, silently, for what felt like the first time in my life.

Crack.

The sound ripped through my ears to my head.  It was louder than loud, and I couldn’t even hear the silence anymore.

I whipped around and found myself standing face to face with The Man.  Laying at his feet was the woman in white, her neck broken.  He stepped over her body and walked up to me. He bent over and sniffed me like an animal.  He smiled.  “I know who you are,” the voice echoed in a melodic tone.

I ran.  I ran out of the glass box.  I ran through the dark room, but I couldn’t find the door out.  In fact, I couldn’t find a door at all.  So I hid in the darkness.  Someone was coming.  Someone had to come.  I pressed my hands to my hears, trying to block out the sound of his voice.

“You can’t even run from me,” The Man’s voice whispered.  “I will always find you.”

Part Three

Copyright 2014 Meg Swensen

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