The door is still open. I curse as I walk in, but backtrack in my mind. Didn't I close it? I'm sure I did. Either way, my hackles are raised, and I look around as I walk slowly upstairs to my room. My bedroom door is open, and sitting on my bed is the same cloaked person from before. I don't even need to bite back the half-hearted snark about Halloween; it's drowned out by a sudden welling of emotion with visions of Karyn at the center of them. I shake my head, choking back what may have been a sob. "Who are you?" I ask once I'm sure I'll be able to. Whoever-it-is waits patiently.
Natalie, a voice in my head replies, a voice of pure emotion that brings to mind a brilliant sunset.
"Yeah..." I say, smiling and feeling foolish. "Me Natalie. You Jane?"
Whoever-it-is doesn't answer. Instead, they stand up, walking to the door, and I wedge myself in the doorway. "No, Jingles. No no no. That's two visits in a row, and you've only said one word to me. Or maybe I imagined it." I sigh deeply, rubbing my temples for a moment before continuing. "No, I'm pretty sure I didn't. Who the hell are you?"
Some part of me is telling me what a bad idea it is to try to hold someone taller (and creepier, I think) than me in my room, but I don't think it's a bad person. Annoyingly silent, maybe, but if they'd talk it'd probably be annoyingly cryptic instead and I already have one of those. Still...
I steel my resolve regardless, planting myself more firmly in the doorway. "Tell me who you are and I'll let you leave," I say as that same cynical part of me recounts all the different ways I could be killed standing in the way. Hopefully it doesn't show on my face.
A soft sigh echoes through my mind, and it lengthens, deepens, becoming like a blanket... weighing me down. My eyes feel so heavy, maybe just a little nap wouldn't hurt, it doesn't look like they're going anywhere anyway. The last thing I see is a black-cloaked figure lunging at me as I fall backward, and the last thing I feel is arms wrapped around me as everything fades to black.
