Among the Echoes(14)

"Positive."

She nods and opens the door wide enough for me to enter. I step past her, and just before she closes the door, I notice that she takes a quick glance down the hallway.

"I promise they’re gone. We really should call the cops though. I could probably get them to do a drive-by through the complex. Maybe scare the little shits into giving up for the night. I’ll install a motion sensor light tomorrow," I throw in just to reassure her, but she only nods and heads to the DVD player in the corner of the room. Her small hands shake as she flips through the pages loaded with DVDs.

"You can have a seat," she says, motioning to the couch.

Only then do I realize that I have been staring at her. "Oh, right. Yeah."

I sit on the far corner of the couch, leaving plenty of room for her to sit on the other end. It’s odd being here. I don’t know this woman at all, but I do know that she needs someone. I’m reasonably sure she doesn’t recognize me. So I can at least take comfort in my anonymity.

"You want something to drink?" she asks, but her voice is filled with distraction.

"Are you okay?" I stand to follow her to the small kitchen area.

She spins to face me and backs away a few steps as I approach. Her reaction immediately halts me.

"Yeah. I’m good. I just have a lot on my mind tonight. Drink?" she asks again, never taking her eyes off me.

"Beer?"

"Oh, sorry. No beer. I think I have a pop or something though."

"A pop would be great," I say enthusiastically, trying to alleviate her tension, but if her weak lie of a smile is any indication, it doesn’t help at all.

I head back to the couch, settling in the corner again. I try to find a comfortable spot for myself in this ridiculously uncomfortable situation. What the hell am I doing here? I should be asleep right now, but instead, I’m entertaining a frightened woman who barely even looks me in the eye. On second thought, maybe I’m right where I should be after all.

"So how long have you been living here?" she asks, settling down on the opposite side of the couch and handing me a pop.

"I come and go, but I would consider this place my home," I answer honestly, careful not to expose too much. "What about you?"

"Just a few days," she says absently, looking down at her phone.

She turns around to face the TV, effectively ending the small talk.

We sit in silence as the movie begins. We both stare at the screen, but what I’m really watching is her as she anxiously dials someone every five minutes on her cell phone. My curiosity is piqued, but I don’t dare ask her about it. I have a feeling she wouldn’t tell me anyway.

"You don’t have to stay," she says quietly. A hair slips from her ponytail as her eyes slide to mine.

"I know, but I’m going to anyway."

She nods emotionlessly and drags her eyes back to the TV. A few minutes pass before she whispers, "Thank you."

I don't respond because I have nothing to say. She doesn't need to thank me. I'm doing this just as much for myself as I am for her.

For the next hour, she continues her mission on the phone, alternating between dialing and texting. She finally gives up and curls into a ball, quietly sniffling to herself. There isn’t much I can do for this damaged woman, but I can make sure she isn’t alone.

Not five minutes later, her eyes close and her breathing evens out. I take a moment to really look at her. Her skin is creamy white and flawless. And her mousy hair has the slightest blonde roots peeking through. I still can’t get over her eyes or figure out why anyone would want to cover them with brown contacts. But really, nothing about this woman makes sense. She’s wearing fitted, black yoga pants and a plain, long-sleeved T-shirt that covers her completely. Jesus, what the hell is she hiding? She was terrified of me tonight yet so desperate for help that she was willing to momentarily trust me.

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself from reaching out and brushing the hair away from her face. She releases a small gasp but only stirs for a second before falling right back to sleep.

I should really go. I could lock the door behind myself and leave her to sleep on her own. She doesn’t need me anymore. But instead, I lean my head back, becoming lost in the sounds of her peaceful breaths mingling with the music of John Waite’s "Change" coming from the TV.

It’s not long before I follow her out of reality and into the darkness.