Under The Sheets

The whispering and screaming mix of voices seemed to ramble, merging into one another. All of them seemed out of place when they went off at the same time within Melissa Delchevy's head. So many voices, so many scenarios playing out in fast forward. A single voice finally broke through, pausing everything else. This voice yelled, RUN!

“No,” another voice grumbled, “maybe if you sat perfectly still, this strange man who has come out from the pitch-black alley behind you, knocking several boxes over and practically throwing an old beat-up trash can, would just pass you by, leaving us alone to wait for the city bus.”

“Oh, that sounds ideal, to be murdered!” Another inner voice chimed in.

An empty tin soda can rattled along the street, banging and clanging until it met a concrete curb on the other side of the road, overpowering the voices and the stranger's hard, raspy breath.

“Where had it come from?” Melissa wondered at first. Soon, a comforting August breeze swept over her. Her thoughts assailed the concept of the wind having found it.

“Nature knew we couldn't listen to the man breathing any longer and stepped in to send the can tumbling down the street.” An inner voice spoke.

Melissa listened intently, trying to guess a count on how many times Mother Nature threw the can against the shadowy street before the terrifying breathing filled the night once again. Even if only for a few seconds, it was enough to remove Melissa's attention from the man and silence the frantic inner voices that plagued her.

There was a whisper of traffic rumbling in the distance from a highway just a few blocks over, a tussle of cats protesting one another's presents, and then that mucus-filled, raspy, hurtful breathing. Each breath from the man seemed like some sort of undertaking. Under the dimly lit streetlight provided by the city, she watched out of the corner of her eye as he slowly stumbled to the bus bench.

“Do you think he is drunk?” An inner voice question.

“He’s a crackhead I bet.” Another inner voice exclaimed.

“He will attack us and kill us!” another voice chimed in.

You are all in my head! "It's all in my head," Melissa found herself saying as she began rocking back and forth, repeating it over and over.

“Not everyone is awful. You and he are both catching the bus home. Now calm down!” She said in response to the voices.

“We should run and keep running as fast as you can! Another voice shouted.

“Stop it. Putting her focus on the large old city mailbox across the street, Melissa whispered to herself, "Stop!" This sometimes worked when it came to calming the voices.

It was just a year ago when she sat here, in this same space, that she was assaulted. She fought hard not to let her mind drifted back to that time.

Malissa had promised herself that she would not be a victim. She would not be stuck in bed under the sheets watching life pass her by on the other side of the walls. This was never an option. Besides, there was no way she could blame the world for what one man did.

She told herself, "It is the price one pays to live in a city." An inner voice replied, "What a silly thing to say." Melissa chuckled.

She enjoyed aggravating the voices. They had invited themself in after the attack. Had she known how to silence them she would. She never took the time to named them, but they were easy to tell who was speaking on their reactions. Unless they were talking all at once. Because of them she consistently battled back anxiety. Always questioning everything and everyone around her.

After eight long months of medical therapy, medication, and a lot of friends and family's love and support, she was back out in the world. Melissa only wished it weren't so late at night and she were not alone.

Although she was only planning to pick up a meal from the diner, fair-haired Olivia was there. It was only going to be one or two drinks, but Olivia insisted on having one more.

“Your adoration for her was obvious.” The voice snapped. “She knew you would do anything for the chance to spend time with her again.

“It is wonderful to have that opportunity to reconnect with a love I once worshiped and lost.” Malissa thought to herself.

“Dear self-centered Olivia, did as Olivia had always done.” An inner voice spoke flatly. She abandoned us. She abandoned you, to be with her girlfriend Janis.” The voice hissed.

Another voice spoke, “You can't blame Olivia for this mess.”

“Olivia has been in a long-term relationship. We knew she was married, and even had two children. It's our own naive selfishness that has put us in this situation.” Another voice spoke up.

Melissa whispered, "If only we had watched the time."

The strange man reached the end of the bus bench. Realizing this and seeing him out of the corner of her eye brought Melissa back from being lost in thought. She found herself trying to keep space between them by inching further down the other side of the bench. Neither saying a word, she held her breath as he stood swaying continuing to struggle, sucking in and gasping like a fish out of water.

Melissa was about to glance over at the man. "Don't," an inner voice whispered. "Just keep your eyes forward."

As she surveyed the landscape in front of her, she said to herself, "I just want to make sure he is not more than that, just an old man who may need some help. I don't want to mix him up with some monster. He is just an older man waiting for the bus just like us."

“You should look at him,” An inner voice called out.

“You are not a victim.” The inner voice echoed. “We are strong.”

After taking a deep breath, Melissa close her eyes for a moment, then turned her head.

“Don’t,” an inner voice argued.

Melissa opened her eyes and gasped, throwing herself back against the bench half falling off the edge. She reached out gripping for the top of the backrest of the bench which kept her from falling fully to the ground.

The man was staring back at her. She hadn't expected him to do that! It seemed that he was either malnourished or ill. The whites of his eyes were barely visible in the black pools of holes sunken deep into his flesh; his skin was gray as a newspaper. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering any exposing skin. His silver hair was greasy and wiry, blending into the long hair on his face. She found it odd that even on a humid summer night, he wore a trench coat with a large hole in the seam.

Melissa settled herself back on the bench, facing the mailbox again. She found herself paralyzed in fear. Should this man was to jump at her, she would be able to do nothing more than sit there. Her mind flitted back to images of goats fainting when scared on the computer. It was a funny email a friend had sent a few days before.

Melissa pictured herself as one of the goats just falling over to the ground. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. The need to run became overwhelming. More than anything, she wanted to be back at home under her sheets, safe from the outside world and all its evil.

The voices began to overwhelmed her mind again. Unrecognizable words mixed in with one another.

Every second drug along as if they were hours. The man did nothing but sway with the wind at the far end of the bench.

“Was he still looking at us?” a voice asked.

Melissa thought about looking up once again. “Don’t!” a voice screamed out to her. This time she would take that advice. She sat there staring ahead with images of fainting goats going through her mind.

“He was minding his own business we should do the same,” a voice spoke up.

“He’s going to grab us! I'm scared! He's going to drag us into one of those empty buildings and do whatever he wants!” Another inner voice cried.

“Maybe he has a car parked down the street somewhere in the darkness, ready to kill us and dispose of our bodies!” An inner voice frantically called out. Another voice repeated speaking fearfully.

Time continued to creep by without anything happening, and the man just stood there swaying gurgling and gasping for air. Her hair stood on end. Melissa had no idea how long it would be before she was able to take a breath. She felt a hard thump on the bench.

“Run, run away!” all the inner voices spoke in sequence.

Malissa jumped into action sprinting across the street faster than she could ever remember. She jumped behind the mailbox she had been staring at. After a while, Melisssa lifted her head over the top of the mailbox looking back at the bench where she had sat just seconds before. The old man lay across the bench, his breathing was harder. She watched as his chest quickly went up and down in a rhythmic motion as he sucked in small quick breathes.

Under the dim street light, Melissa could see that his mouth was gaping open. Drool oozed out seeping and collecting onto the bench before creating a waterfall to the concrete underneath puddling again. She watch as he struggled to extend his arm out, his hand palm open towards her with pleading eyes. Whatever strength the old stranger had mustered up to hold out his arm quickly faded. His hand contorted and shrank like a dying spider’s legs pulling into its self before it fell lifeless and limp to the ground. The air was now quiet, except for the hum of the traffic some blocks away.

Trying to figure out what to do next, Melissa walked forward and backward in a confusing dance. The all the voices speaking in her head.

“It's a trick!” A voice whispered.

“You go over there, and he'll grab us and take you away, and this time you might not be as lucky as to escape again! This time you might die!”

“He needs help, why can’t you see that! He only needs help!” Another voice pleaded.

Malissa looked up to the man and then back down to the ground. She hated the feeling of powerlessness. She wanted to trust. She wanted to help.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! SHUT UP!” Melissa finally screamed out slapping her hands again her ears with both hands and squatting down into a ball balancing on the pads of her feet. When she was sure all was quiet for a moment. She stood up using the mailbox as a balance for a moment looking at the man again.

“HELP HIM!" An inner voice screamed loader than before out of nowhere.

“Call someone! Do something! Do anything!” An inner voice called out.

“Run!” Another broke through.

The voices were ganging up screaming and crying incoherently all at once again. Frustrated tears streamed down Melissa’s cheeks. She had to leave. She had to get out of this situation. Melissa turned to run. “She could inform the authorities when she made it home. It was only ten blocks away she could run that easy. She should have done that in the first place.” Malissa finally convinced herself.

She turned straight into the arms of a tall, thin brown-haired. He was a well-groomed genital man in a black and white pin-striped suit. Melissa let out a scream swinging her arms wildly as she jumped back.

"Woh...woh, It is okay, It's okay," He said in a soft, smooth calming voice. His hands up and opened exposing the palms.

The voices were silent. Melissa looked the man up and down. After a long moment, she let out a hard tear-filled laugh.

Melissa turned back to the older man on the bench. He had not moved. The air was silent, there were no struggling breaths.

“Oh Thank God! He needs help!” Melissa stuttered whipping away tears. "I think he is having a heart attack. I don’t know what to do.”

The tall stranger looked over Melissa’s shoulder to the older man on the bench.

"Don’t you have a cell phone to call for help?” The man smiled.

"No! I left my phone at home. You see I was only coming to pick up my dinner.” Melissa thought about her response after she said it.

“Too much information!” An inner voice screamed.

“He looks like he's sleeping to me. Do you need a ride?" The nicely dressed stranger’s dark brown eyes seem to bounce with excitement. His smile widened expose beautiful perfect white teeth.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m just waiting for the bus. It should be here any minute I’m sure." Melissa said shaking, "But, but he was gasping for air, and I think he needed help," Melissa spoke turning to look back at the old man again. It was only then that she began walking across the street to the bus stop bench. The big, warm vice grip of a hand clenching tight around her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

"He's just an old bum taking a nap on the bench. Now, how about that ride?" The tall, lanky brown-haired well-groomed gentleman’s tone had changed. It was no longer pleasant or comforting. “I guess we need to do this quickly then.” He hissed.

Melissa closed her eyes, tears of fear began to fester up again. She opened them to see the old man still laying on the bench. She noticed this time there was no pain in his face. Instead, there seemed to be a sense of sadness she had missed before. Melissa turned around and watched in slow motion the tall stranger's large closed fist flying through the air towards her face. She closed her eyes letting out a breath.

“ We are strong!” An inner voice called out.

“ I wish we were home under the sheets.” Another inner voice whispered.