Part 2 here: My girlfriend never let me touch her - until tonight. (Part 2, Final) : nosleep (reddit.com)
My new girlfriend, Anna, is kind of odd.
To begin with, she just almost literally showed up out of nowhere. Well, alright, at that party at Jeff’s. But no-one seemed to know exactly where she came from. She was just - there.
And right off the bat, she seemed taken with me, if I do say so myself.
I saw her first leaning against the door, and her posture seemed somehow - unnatural. It’s hard to describe, but it’s like her arms and legs had almost fallen away from her. Sprawling, like a dummy. Doesn’t sound very attractive, I know, but actually she was. Tall and quite slim, but with curves just as they should be, and she stood with her head erect, her honey-colored hair pushed to one side to reveal her elegant neck. And her burning, amber eyes seemed to be seeking something. Then her gaze found me. Abruptly she straightened, and and for a strange, incoherent kind of moment I thought, that’s it, she’s found me, she’s tracked me down…I had no idea where such a thought came from. I tried to pull myself together, while she kept on looking at me.
Other people noticed. Jeff nudged me in passing. ‘Hey man, I think you got yourself sorted for the night.’ I asked him who she was, and he said he didn’t really know, but that she had introduced herself as Anna and Amy, his girlfriend, thought she remembered her from another party, or something. This was vague in the extreme, but it was all I had to go on.
I looked back uncertainly over my shoulder. She was still staring.
‘Told ya this party was gonna be therapeutic,’ Jeff remarked. He knew, of course, about the bad time I’d had recently.
And I simply had to talk to her. So I just went up and introduced myself, feeling very awkward (and no doubt looking it, too) but she responded as effusively as if I were an old friend. And she already knew my name.
That was a month ago, and we’re still seeing each other. That is to say, she’s come over two or three times to my apartment in the evenings, after I get off work. Just for an hour or so. We just chill on the couch and talk about stuff, mainly. Like music. Well, ok, not too much, I’m still feeling kind of sore on that front, after recent events. But she loves music as much as I do, I can see that. She never wants dinner or anything, though, and she’s never invited me back to her place. I don’t even know what that is. She hasn’t revealed much about herself at all, actually. And she never stays the night.
In fact - until tonight - she didn’t even let me touch her, not even to put my arm around her, or something, far less try to kiss her. Come to think of it, we hadn’t even held hands.
Odd, right? When she still kept coming on over, and all, and when I still wanted her to keep coming over.
So, yes, you’re thinking, she’s not really a girlfriend at all, right?
But she’s not just a friend or acquaintance, either.
It’s hard to explain, but it’s like she has some hold over me. Like we have an indefinable connection. That feeling of instant familiarity when I first laid eyes on her. Like we’ve known each other in a past life, or something. Sounds corny I know but that’s really how it feels. And she agrees. About our past connection, I mean. Why else would she keep on coming over to my tiny, ratty, oh-so-temporary apartment?
‘Of course we know each other,’ she said earlier tonight, when again we get to talking about it. ‘We’ve know each other a very long time. You’ve just forgotten, that’s all.’
I was about to say something, I don’t know what, when she surprised me by taking my hand in both of hers - we were sitting side by side on the couch, as usual. This was actually the first time we’d had any kind of physical contact at all. Actually, the sensation wasn’t as exhilarating as it might’ve been. Her hands felt small and dry and hard. I didn’t actually flinch away, though, that probably would’ve been a bad move.
She was stroking her fingers over mine, looking down at my hand as if fascinated, and then she reached for my other hand too. ‘What hands,’ she marveled, her voice infinitely softer than her touch. ‘Such skillful hands. You’ve done so much with these hands, Jordan.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, stupidly.
She smiled at me, her hair falling vividly over one eye. ‘I know what these hands are capable of. No-one knows better than me.’
That’s when I felt a stab of something very like fear.
She looked intently, almost wildly at me, then pressed up closer to my side. First time she ever did that. Again, though, I was conscious of a peculiar sensation, a hard edge somehow to her body, not soft and pliant as I’d expected. ‘Put your arm around me Jordan,’ she said dreamily, her voice as honey-toned as her hair. ‘You know you want to.’ And before I could think whether I really wanted to, or not, she snuggled up against my shoulder.
Well, it was kind of hard not to put my arm around her, after that, but she went further, taking my left hand - which she’d held earlier in both of hers - and settling it firmly on her neck. I didn’t know what to say, but we didn’t stay like that for very long, because she suddenly jumped up, putting both hands to her head.
I got up too. ‘What’s the matter?’
She had shut her eyes tight. ‘Those pains,’ she moaned. ‘Those twisting pains in my head. Don’t, don’t ….’ She went on clutching her head while I just stared wondering what the fuck was going on. ‘Anna -‘
She turned to me, her eyes open again and brilliant, much too brilliant.
‘It’s alright. I get these headaches sometimes. But it’s alright again now. Really.’ She smiled then settled herself back down as if nothing had happened, pulling me down beside her. ‘Now, where were we?’
She’s still here.
Things are different tonight, for sure. Usually she leaves after just an hour or so.
It certainly seems like she wants to get closer, at last, but while I probably would’ve jumped at that just a day or two ago, for some reason I’m not so stoked on the idea any more.
I’m starting to seriously wonder if I’ve got some sort of psycho chick on my hands? Or is it drugs? What?
I’ve tried asking her what the hell she’s really all about, but she won’t tell me of course. And I can’t just tell her to go, either. Yea, you’ll be thinking I’m being pretty feeble and no doubt I am, but like I said it’s like she’s got some kind of weird hold over me. Like a goddam spell. Or maybe I’m just making excuses for myself. I don’t know. But there’s a mystery to her that I want to unravel ….
Right now she’s in that miserable cramped space that answers to the idea of a kitchen, washing up after dinner. Not that she had any, of course, but it’s the first time she’s offered to do the dishes - well, the one plate and glass - and to just generally ‘clean up’. I was so surprised when she offered that I didn’t even refuse her.
So I’m back on the couch, trying to relax when suddenly, I hear the strangest sound. From the kitchen.
Anna is singing.
Well, that’s the closest I can get to describing it, but - it’s not like singing, in the usual sense, at all. It’s definitely musical, overwhelmingly musical, and it has the unmistakable ring of her voice, but - it’s more like a set of strange, drawn-out notes that don’t - don’t sound - human.
My heart starts to race.