Among the Shadows: Part 1, Chapter 6
I woke up to Kyle's voice speaking quietly. Once my eyes were open, I saw the room partially illuminated by the backlight from his phone. Kyle was on his cell phone, trying to sneak out of the room without waking me up. By the darkness outside the window, morning had not yet arrived. Since he was acting like I was still asleep, I closed my eyes and pretended to be. The door closed behind him, but when he continued talking in a more normal voice just beyond it, I could hear every word.
"I was just... No, you don't need me. Fine, but I don't like leaving her alone."
I had no idea what he was talking about. The one-sided conversation sounded kind of like a job issue, even though I was pretty sure Kyle didn't work. His last statement was pretty sweet though, and I liked that he was thinking about me. He had to be referring to me. Hopefully. Having ended his phone call, Kyle returned and climbed back into bed. I stirred, and he kissed my cheek.
Kyle was quiet for a few moments before announcing, "I have to do something for a friend, but I'll be back in a few hours." He asked, "Stay here please?" Sleepily, I agreed. I wasn't really planning on getting out of bed so early anyway. Kyle dressed quickly and left the room, again closing the door behind him.
I heard voices. He must be talking to one of his roommates. "Nice timing, man."
"It worked," Don replied. "I feel it." What worked? Was he talking about Kyle's relationship? Don. I realized Kyle had planned all that. Not my overreaction with the candles, but Don coming home 'early' to encourage us to retire to Kyle's room. Sneaky. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or outraged with the scheme. After all, I wanted the relationship to progress.
Kyle said, "Let's go, we might be able to get him before he calls for help." That statement sounded strange, but there must be a reasonable work scenario for it. If I really wanted to know, I could just ask Kyle when he got back. Without devoting more thought into it, I went back to sleep.
Only a little while later, I woke up again. Kyle had left only about an hour prior. My heart pounded loud and fast as if I had woken up from a nightmare, though I didn't recall anything. Something was wrong, I could feel it. The feeling had me on edge, and the bitter taste earlier had returned.
I found my way to the bathroom, where I tried to calm myself. The rest of the house stayed dark and quiet, indicating that no one else in the house was awake. My hair was a mess from sleeping, so I did my best to brush it out and left it down. Kyle had not come back yet, but since I was not sleeping, I decided that I would just go home. I got ready to leave as quickly as I could, and all the while the taste bothered me. It was similar to the aftertaste from an alcoholic drink. Or aspartame. Having not left any clothing in Kyle's room, I only had my fancy dress. Since the temperature outside had dropped for the night, I borrowed one of Kyle's sweatshirts. I doubted he would mind.
Instead of sending a text message at this hour, I guessed that Kyle would be back soon, so I wrote Kyle a note and left it on his desk before letting myself out. The night breeze greeted me, and I was glad I had taken Kyle's shirt. In the distance, I could hear cars driving past on the main street, and the siren of an emergency vehicle wailed briefly. I thought about calling campus watch for an easy ride back home in a golf cart and decided against it. At this hour, I would probably have to wait a long while for someone to arrive. And for some reason, I felt like walking.
Feeling foolish and unrefined, I tried spitting in an attempt to get rid of the taste in my mouth, but it didn't seem to help. Because of the previous night's activities, I took the route through the park, thinking I might sit a while and watch the sunrise. The park was popular among dog owners because it boasted grassy lawns and a lovely fountain.
As I approached the center of the park, I saw a figure step into the fountain. Under the plentiful lamplight, the figure submerged his body in the water. His shoes lay on the short fountain wall. He was probably a homeless man. I had volunteered at homeless shelters before, and I wasn't scared of him. Most of the homeless folks just wanted the necessities in life. Like water. And baths?
I groaned inwardly. Long night or early day, I was not exactly in the mood to deal with another person. With my solitude threatened, I deliberated on my decision to sit and stay in the park. I reasoned that I could still sit by the fountain if it didn't seem like he would bother me. Regardless, the path I was on went straight for the fountain. To avoid him meant cutting across the grass, which would be completely obvious. Looking down at my shoes, I realized walking on the dirt and grass would not be particularly easy and probably not recommended for the material. I continued on my way toward the fountain.
But when I approached, the bitter taste seemed to grow stronger. I noticed that the man was dressed oddly. His clothes seemed to have been scorched, for burned holes dotted his clothing in random patches all over. I watched as he pulled off his tattered shirt and splashed water onto his chest and back. Anywhere his skin was revealed... he was red. And not a sunburned pink. In fact, I could see the blistering in some places on his back. At first, I thought this was another hallucination as I didn't exactly have much sleep. I rubbed my eyes, but this time, the scene didn't change.
Unfortunately, when my parents died, I was the only living relative. Along with hearing the crushing news, I had also been called upon to identify the bodies. I recognized the injuries of a burn victim, and the state of his clothing attested to that notion. Had he just escaped a fire? I didn't know what to think, but I knew that this man was in need of medical attention. I had no idea why he was in the park and not in the care of EMTs or the hospital. He sat down on the edge of the fountain with his feet still in the water.
As I neared, I cleared my throat loudly, and asked cautiously, "Excuse me?" I didn't want to touch him in case I made his wounds any worse. I coughed, trying to eliminate the acrid taste as I unsnapped my purse open and took out my cell phone. The noise seemed to rouse him, and he stood up with a start and turned to look at me. I dialed the number for campus emergency, silently berating myself for not having kept that number in my quick-dial phonebook for emergencies.
I was not expecting the man to put his hand out and grab my cell phone. As he did so, he said insistently, "No, don't! Don't tell anyone."
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