Part 1: My girlfriend never let me touch her - until tonight. Part 1. : nosleep (reddit.com)
The strange sound continues. I can’t stand it any longer. I make my way into the kitchen, as quietly as possible.
Anna’s at the sink, still singing, but abruptly she breaks off and whirls around to face me. I can’t say I’m reassured by her expression. That look of wildness once again, which seems to actually distort her face … as if it wasn’t an ordinary human face at all …. And then next moment, that crazy look fades, to be replaced by intense consternation, as if I’ve caught her out in something.
‘Was that you Anna?’ I ask.
She stands quite still looking at me. ‘What?’
‘You were … singing, right?’
A faint smile plays over her lips. ‘Didn’t you like it?’
‘Well, I guess, I mean, yeah …’ I’m feeling more nonplussed than ever. ‘It’ s just that ….’
Her smile deepens, her smoky eyes fixed unwaveringly on mine. ‘It’s just that you never heard anything like it before, right?’
‘No, I didn’t.’ I try to laugh it off. ‘It’s - well, you could say it’s - original.’
She laughs in her turn. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.’ But I can’t detect any humor in her laugh, or her smile. Or maybe I’m just getting totally paranoid, goddamn it. Then suddenly, her smile drops. A look of - what is it, concern? - comes over her face. ‘Don’t worry about it Jordan,’ she says softly. ‘Don’t fret.’ Then she comes closer taking my arm. She’s certainly gotten very touchy-feely tonight. And her grip is tight, unexpectedly tight, so I can’t really pull away without literally trying to fling her off, and I’m too polite to do that. Too polite for my own good.
‘Let’s go back,’ she says. Her voice is low and husky.
She’s making me feel so nervous or stupid, or something, that I almost ask: ‘where to?’
Back on that goddamn couch, where she resumes her old position on my left, her head once more on my shoulder. But the feel of her head there somehow recalls another sensation, of something rasping, or scraping a bit against my shoulder …. And again, with her body against mine, that odd sense of something hard, almost digging into my side.
‘Are you - is everything ok, Anna?’ I ask her suddenly.
‘Why do you ask that,’ she murmurs against my shoulder. I can’t even think how to explain. That strange, enervating effect she has on me, especially tonight. My thoughts are wandering ….
Once again, I feel her taking my left hand and placing it on her neck. Then she grabs my right hand, steering it towards her belly. ‘Feel that. Feel it.’ I can hardly refuse because all of a sudden she’s gripping my hand so tight it begins to hurt. I’m vaguely aware this is the kind of thing your girlfriend might insist on you doing further down the line, I mean, but, shit, we haven’t even kissed yet, let alone gone all the way ….
‘That’s where your hands should be,’ she informs me. ‘Don’t you remember? You do remember.’
Something stirs at the back of my mind.
Her liquid, burning eyes, contrasting with her dulcet tones. ‘But I don’t want you to fret, Jordan. Don’t fret.’
Why does she keep telling me that? Why does she keep telling me not to worry when she’s acting so fucking crazy?
And why can’t I just get the fuck out of this?
She’s talking, rapidly, with increasing urgency. ‘You always were a player, Jordan. Damn you. Did you think I’d let you get away with it? Did you think I’d let you forget? ‘
The dulcet tones have become … discordant.
‘What the fuck are you talking about, Anna?’ I ask, unsteadily. Also, I’m trying not to wince now with the pressure of her grip on my right hand. But there’s a monstrous suspicion forming, so monstrous that -
She goes racing on as if she hadn’t heard me. ‘I was so faithful to you. I always worked so hard for you, didn’t I? Did everything you wanted me to? Even when I had the worst headaches, from you taking so goddamn long to tune up? The long nights, and when you were finished with me you would just dump me right back into my little prison? Always put me away. You were so goddamned conscientious about that. Didn’t it ever occur to you I would like to stay out, sometimes, even when you weren’t running your hands all over me? But I never weighed you down, did I? I was never a burden round your neck?’
She’s gone full psycho, right?
Or am I the crazy one? Probably both of us, actually. Or it’s some insane dream. Or just some insane reality.
She leans forward and almost hisses at me. ‘You do remember, Jordan. I see it in your eyes. You do remember.’
Yes, I do remember. Or rather, my body remembers, old familiar feelings …. Left hand on her neck, her gleaming, beautiful neck, right hand further down her body, the feel of something occasionally rasping against my shoulder ….
Some vestige of normality intrudes itself as I make a last, desperate effort to pull myself together. I drop my left arm from her shoulders, but I can’t get my other hand away. ‘I don’t know what your problem is, seriously, but I -‘
‘How could you leave me there to die?’ she suddenly spits out.
Normality recedes, vanishes.
Behind her venomous words, I see the flames leaping high once again, smell the smoke.
‘I didn’t -‘ I protest, weakly.
You could’ve turned back. You had enough time for that. The fire hadn’t spread so much, then. You just couldn’t be bothered.’
The fire. The fire in my old apartment. The loss of my beloved guitar.
But - had it been so beloved, at the end?
And why is she talking as though she’s some sort of - reincarnation of that instrument?
Vengeance. She’s back for vengeance.
Because she’s right.
I finally admit it to myself, after two long, dreary months.
I could’ve turned back to get it … her … easily. But I decided not to. Secretly, it was what I was wanting. An excuse to get shot of the whole music scene, where I hadn’t achieved the level of success I would’ve liked. I deliberately let it burn.
But how … how can it - she - have come back?
She holds me with her eyes. Gleaming amber eyes. Honey colored hair and sweet, sweet tones once again. Hypnotizing.
‘Yes, you see it all now, don’t you? You admit it, at last. That’s something.’ She smiles and, thank god, releases my hand.
‘Don’t fret, Jordan,’ she almost purrs. ‘I just wanted to remind you, that’s all. I’ll always be your sweet Anna. By the way, do you know what that’s short for? Another. I’m another. Not your usual type of girlfriend, but …. another.’ She laughs - a high, ringing, richly musical laugh. ‘A bit lame I know, but it’s the best I could come up with.’
My throat is so constricted I can’t speak. The smell, the foul smell of smoke, still seems to be searing into me.
‘Don’t fret, Jordan,’ she says yet again. ‘I don’t want you to fret any longer.’
The real meaning behind those words suddenly hits me, a ghastly revelation, but already it’s too late. In single vicious movement, she’s onto me, crushing my hand, my left hand this time, between both of hers. The pain is instant, blinding. Something snaps. Even then she doesn’t let go.
‘It didn’t have to be this way, Jordan,’ she says with a sad sweet smile. ‘If only you’d looked after me, instead of leaving me to burn.’
And then suddenly, she’s gone. Just gone.
I’m feeling sick, dizzy. Can’t hold it together anymore. Don’t want to.
I’m slipping under ….
Well, Anna has made sure of one thing. I won’t be fretting any more, even if I wanted to. She’s practically taken my fretting hand with her.
’