Lost Phone Part 6

Thursday, December 17th, 2009 – 5:50am

I opened my eyes to the harsh glare of streetlights blurred by tears and pain. Cold air bit at my face, the night sky swirling above me. Shapes moved around me—blue and red lights flashing, shadows shifting. I was on a stretcher, my body heavy, numb, floating somewhere between pain and emptiness.

I could feel the hands of the paramedics, firm but gentle, as they lifted me, their voices muffled, distant, like echoes from another world. My head rolled to the side, and I saw him—Mark. His face was pale, his eyes wide with worry, his shoulders tense as he followed them to the ambulance. His lips moved, forming words I couldn’t hear, his hands clenched at his sides.

He looked like he was about to run to me, to pull me away, to shield me from whatever hell had followed me here. But he didn’t. He just watched, helpless, his eyes locked on mine, pleading.

The world tilted as they loaded me into the ambulance, the cold metal pressing against my back. The ceiling was stark white, fluorescent lights glaring down, making me squint. The doors slammed shut, sealing me inside, and the noise faded away. It was just me, the cold, and the darkness seeping in around the edges of my vision.

I closed my eyes, and everything went black.

I woke up in my old room.

The familiar scent of dust and faded perfume filled the air, the soft, muted light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, I thought I was relieving my forgotten memories, that this demon made me re-experience again and again. But something was off. It didn’t feel like the memories that haunted me, flashing through my mind in painful, jagged fragments. This was softer, distant, like a half-forgotten memory, the day I escaped from all this.

I looked around. The room was just as I remembered—small, cramped, with pale pink walls that had long since faded, posters curling at the edges. The old wooden desk was cluttered with schoolbooks, pens, and notes scribbled with half-formed ideas, dreams of a future far away from here.

I was sixteen. It was the day I was going to leave.

My bags were packed, lined up neatly against the wall. Clothes, books, the few personal things I could call mine, all shoved into worn duffel bags. I had spent hours planning this, every detail mapped out in my head. Leave before anyone comes home. Catch the bus to the train station. Get to the city. Start over.

I had written a note—a short, simple message asking them not to look for me. I would contact them when I was ready. 

I didn’t have a plan beyond that. Just an idea—a blurry, hopeful vision of a life that didn’t include fear, pain, or the hollow ache of betrayal. I would find a job, live quietly, save enough to get my GED, and then... who knew? Anything would be better than this.

I was ready to go. I stood by the door of my room, my heart pounding, my body trembling with anticipation, with fear. The house was silent the last couple of hours. My parents were supposed to be gone for hours. And Daniel... he was supposed to be at college.

But I heard voices.

I froze, my hand on the doorknob, my heart lurching in my chest. Someone was downstairs. I moved quietly, my feet barely making a sound on the old wooden floor as I crept to the top of the stairs. The voices drifted up, lazy, careless, accompanied by the sharp scent of smoke.

Daniel. And a girl.

I peered down, watching them through the gap in the railing. They were sprawled on the living room couch, his arm slung casually over her shoulders, his head tipped back as he took another drag from a cigar. The smoke curled up, thick and pungent, clinging to the walls, the furniture, my skin.

I felt a flicker of irritation. Of anger. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be gone, out of my way. But of course, Daniel never did what he was supposed to do. He did whatever he wanted, and no one ever stopped him. Not my parents. Not me.

I squared my shoulders, my jaw tightening. I wouldn’t let him stop me. Not today.

I grabbed my bags, slinging them over my shoulders, my steps deliberate, loud, as I marched down the stairs. He looked up, his eyes hazy, unfocused, his mouth curling into a lazy, mocking grin.

"Hey, Abi," he called, taunting. "Where are you going?"

I stopped at the door, my back to him, my hand trembling as I gripped the handle. "I’m leaving."

There was a pause, then a chuckle, low and amused. "I see..." He took another drag, the end of the cigar glowing red. "What’s the matter? Finally had enough of this place?"

I turned to face him, my eyes burning, my chest tight. "Yeah. I’ve had enough."

His eyes flicked over me, taking in the bags, the set of my shoulders, the defiance in my eyes. For a moment, his expression shifted, something softening in his gaze. But then the smirk was back, lazy, dismissive.

"What’s that smell?" I asked, wrinkling my nose. "It’s awful."

He laughed, holding up the cigar. "This? It’s a joint, little Abi. You want some?"

The girl beside him snickered, her eyes glazed, unfocused. "She wouldn’t know what to do with it."

Daniel laughed, a harsh, empty sound. "Yeah... you’re right. Go on, Abi. Run away. Good luck out there." His voice was cold, detached, his eyes dark and empty.

My heart twisted, pain lancing through me. But I didn’t let him see it. I didn’t let him see how much his words hurt. How much I wanted him to stop me, to care, to say something that mattered.

I turned away, pulling the door open, the cold air rushing in, crisp and sharp. I stepped outside, my feet crunching on the gravel, the wind biting at my face.

I didn’t look back. 

I walked away from that house, from that life, from everything that had ever broken me, and sealed all those memories once and for all. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The memory faded, slipping away like smoke, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest. My eyes fluttered open, heavy, unfocused. White light flooded my vision, sharp and sterile, making me squint. A rhythmic beeping echoed softly around me, steady and monotonous.

I was in a hospital room.

The air was cold, crisp with the scent of antiseptic and disinfectant. Tubes were attached to my arms, thin needles piercing my skin, connected to three IV bags hanging above me—painkillers, anti-inflammatories, antibiotics. I could feel the medicine coursing through my veins, a cold, numbing sensation that dulled the pain but did nothing to ease the heaviness in my chest.

I tried to move, but my body protested, aching, bruised, weak. Every muscle felt stretched, torn, like I had been ripped apart and stitched back together. My skin burned under the bandages, tight and uncomfortable, the wounds beneath throbbing in dull, relentless pain. At least the physical ones were taken care of.

I took a deep breath, the air cold, sharp, filling my lungs with a hollow ache. My head felt heavy, my thoughts muddled, tangled in a haze of memories and dreams, of shadows and voices that refused to let go. I could still hear them, faint, whispering, laughing.

My eyes drifted to the clock on the wall, its hands moving steadily, oblivious to everything. 11:12. But... was it morning or night?

I turned my head, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through my neck, and looked at the window. The blinds were closed, thin slats of pale plastic, but I could see the faint glow of streetlights, the darkness pressing against the glass. Night, then.

But what night?

I tried to remember, but my thoughts were a mess, scattered fragments of images and sounds, slipping through my fingers like sand. The ambulance. Mark’s face, pale and worried. The fog, thick and suffocating.

And that voice. 

I shivered, my skin prickling, the memory curling around me like smoke. My hands clenched, the IV tubes pulling tight, the machines beeping. I forced myself to breathe, to steady my heart.

My thoughts were shattered by the creak of the door. I looked up, my heart lurching, and saw Mark step into the room. He moved carefully, his eyes wide with worry, his shoulders tense. He looked exhausted, his face pale, shadows clinging to his features.

“Abigail... how are you feeling?” His voice was low, gentle, but strained, like he was trying to keep something at bay.

I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my body, sharp and blinding, and I sank back into the pillows, my breath catching. “Like hell... Everything hurts... everywhere...” I forced a weak smile, but it fell flat. My body felt broken, bruised, hollow.

Mark’s face tightened, his jaw clenching. “What happened, Abigail? Who did this to you? Was it connected to the case?”

I looked away, my eyes drifting to the window, to the darkness pressing against the glass. The shadows seemed to curl, to twist, shifting in shapes that made my stomach lurch. I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands clenching in the stiff sheets.

“Yes... and no...” I whispered, my voice trembling. “This... this is going to sound insane. But please... please believe me. I’m telling the truth.” I could feel the tears burning, hot and painful, but I held them back, my throat tightening.

Mark moved closer, his eyes softening, his shoulders relaxing. “Of course, Abi. I’m listening. I believe you.”

I took a deep breath, the air cold, sharp, stabbing at my lungs. “The phone... the one we locked up in the evidence room... the one that vanished? The one from Lars’ apartment? It’s not just a phone. It’s... cursed. Possessed. Something... something evil is inside it.” My voice broke, my chest tightening, the words tumbling out, raw and jagged. “It’s playing with my mind. Showing me things. Hurting me. And it wants to go back to Nora... it wants her... I refused to take it to her... and this... this is what happened to me.”

I looked up at him, my vision blurred, my body trembling. “Please, Mark... you have to believe me... it’s real... it’s all real...”

Mark’s face went blank, his eyes wide, his mouth falling open. For a long moment, he just stared at me, his expression frozen, unreadable. Silence filled the room, heavy, suffocating, pressing down on me. My heart pounded, my chest tightening, panic curling in my stomach.

Then his face changed. His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a slow, wicked smile.

“Well...” he drawled, his voice cold, mocking. “Why don’t you just take it to her then, Abi?” His smile widened, stretching too far, his teeth sharp, glinting. “You stupid, pathetic whore.”

My heart stopped, my blood turning to ice. I tried to move, to scream, but my body was frozen, trapped in the bed, the IV tubes cutting into my skin.

Mark’s face twisted, his features shifting, darkening, his eyes hollow, black, endless. His mouth stretched wider, his jaw unhinging, cracking, his laughter bubbling up, low and guttural, echoing off the walls.

The shadows curled around him, wrapping around his body, pulling at his skin, peeling it away, revealing something cold, black, writhing underneath. His face melted, his eyes sinking into darkness, his teeth lengthening into jagged fangs, dripping with black sludge.

He leaned closer, his breath cold, sour, curling around me, his voice a distorted whisper, echoing in my head.

“You can’t run, Abigail. You can never run.”

I screamed.

The darkness swallowed me whole.

Everything fell silent. A crushing, unnatural stillness, as if the air itself had been sucked out of the room. I blinked, my vision clearing, my mind clawing its way back to reality. I was in the hospital bed, the pale sheets tangled around me, the IV tubes hanging limply from the metal stand beside me. But the room was wrong. Too empty, too cold. It felt abandoned, lifeless.

There was no sign of Mark, no sign of nurses, no hum of distant voices, no sound of footsteps echoing down the hall. Just a suffocating silence that pressed against my ears, making my head throb. I shivered, the chill in the air biting into my skin, creeping down my spine.

Then I felt it.

Cold, smooth, familiar.

My fingers twitched, the object digging into my palm. I looked down, my breath catching in my throat. It was there. The cursed phone.

I was holding it.

My heart lurched, cold panic flooding my veins. It lay in my right hand, the screen black, its surface flawless, untouched, mocking me with its perfect simplicity. It was impossibly cold, the chill seeping into my bones, making my fingers stiffen, ache. I didn’t remember picking it up. Didn’t remember how it got there. It shouldn’t be here. It shouldn’t exist.

I fought the urge to throw it across the room, to shatter it against the wall. But I knew it wouldn’t matter. It would just come back. It always came back.

I forced myself to breathe, the air icy, sharp, stabbing at my lungs. I didn’t have time to be afraid. I was still alive, still here. And that meant I had a choice. A chance.

I looked around the room, my vision adjusting to the dim, pale light seeping in through the blinds. Everything was too quiet. It didn’t feel real.

The pain hit me all at once, sharp and brutal, slicing through the fog in my head. My body felt heavy, broken, each breath sending fire through my chest, my ribs aching, my limbs stiff and bruised. But I didn’t care. Pain meant I was alive. Pain meant I could move.

I ripped the needles out of my arm, the tubes falling limply to the side, the machines beeping in protest before fading to silence. Blood trickled down my arm, thin red lines against pale skin, but the pain was nothing. Nothing compared to what I had already been through.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet touching the cold tile floor, the chill shooting up my spine. My knees buckled, pain lancing through my body, but I forced myself to stand, to keep moving. I was in survival mode now. Just keep moving.

I staggered toward the door, my vision swimming, the room spinning around me. The phone grew colder, heavier, its weight pressing into my hand, like it was trying to pull me down, to stop me. But I held on, my fingers curling around it, tightening, refusing to let go. I wouldn’t let it control me. Not again.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, the sound echoing down the hallway, too loud, too sharp. I stepped out, the hallway was empty.No nurses. No doctors. No visitors. Nothing. Just pale, flickering lights stretching down the corridor, casting long shadows against the walls. The air was heavy, stale, as if it hadn’t been breathed in for years. 

I forced myself to move, one step at a time.

I walked down the hallway, the shadows curling around me. My footsteps echoed, sharp and hollow, the only sound in the dead, empty corridor. It felt like I was walking through  a tomb.

I clenched the phone tighter, my fingers numb, my heart pounding. I knew where I was going. 

Nora’s room.

That’s where it wanted me to go. That’s where this would end.

I kept walking, my body on autopilot, my mind numb, empty. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the lights flickering, the shadows dancing along the walls, watching me, following me.

But I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. I just kept moving, step by step, the phone freezing against my skin, the air growing colder, heavier.

I reached the door.

Room 407. Nora’s room.

My hand trembled as I reached for the handle, my fingers brushing against the cold metal. The phone was vibrating now, a low, constant hum, pulsing against my palm, as if it were alive, as if it were breathing.

I took a deep breath, my chest tight, my lungs burning. I could hear it now. The whispers. Soft, faint, curling around me, seeping into my skin, my mind.

"Abigail..."

I closed my eyes, my fingers tightening around the phone, my heart pounding, my body trembling. The shadows pressed closer, the air growing colder, the whispers wrapping around me, laughing, mocking.

"Bring me to Nora."

I opened my eyes, my vision swimming, the door looming in front of me, the shadows twisting, crawling along the floor, reaching for me.

I pushed the door open.

The room was dark, cold, empty. The air was heavy, stale, suffocating. Nora lay on the hospital bed, her body pale, motionless, her chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. Her face was hollow, gaunt, her eyes sunken, dark shadows curling beneath them.

The phone burned against my skin, the vibrations growing stronger, more violent, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

I took a step forward, my legs trembling, my body weak, broken. The shadows moved, curling around the bed, wrapping around Nora, seeping into her skin, her bones, her soul.

The whispers grew louder, sharper, echoing off the walls.

"It’s time."

I reached the edge of the bed, my hand shaking, the phone freezing, burning, vibrating so hard I thought it would shatter. I looked down at Nora, her face pale, empty, her body fragile, broken.

The shadows were everywhere now, crawling up the walls, curling around my legs, my arms, my chest, squeezing, suffocating.

I opened my hand.

The phone fell, slipping from my fingers, tumbling through the air, landing on the bed beside Nora.

Exhaustion crashed into me like a tidal wave, sweeping the strength from my body. My knees buckled, hitting the cold, hard floor with a jolt that shot pain through my bones. I didn’t care. I didn’t have the energy to care.

I looked up at the bed, at Nora’s pale, lifeless face, the phone resting beside her, its screen dark, its purpose fulfilled. The shadows still writhed around her, curling like smoke, sinking into her skin, her chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. But they weren’t reaching for me anymore. They weren’t clawing at my mind, my body, my soul.

I felt the weight lift, the crushing pressure that had been bearing down on me, finally easing, fading, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest. My head spun, my vision swimming, the world tilting around me.

I let out a breath, a shuddering, broken sigh that echoed off the cold, sterile walls, trembling with exhaustion, relief, pain. My shoulders sagged, my body curling in on itself, my hands pressed to the cold tile floor, my fingers trembling. I was so tired. So damn tired.

“I... I did it...” The words tumbled from my lips, raw, jagged, breaking under the weight of everything I had endured. My voice was hoarse, thin, cracking under the pressure, my chest heaving, my lungs burning. “I did what you wanted... I brought you back to her...”

I lifted my head, my eyes locking on the shadows curling around Nora, the dark tendrils wrapping around her arms, her neck, her face. They were darker now, thicker, heavier, seeping into her skin, sinking into her bones, like feeding on her life, her soul. But they didn’t touch me.

“Leave me alone now...” My voice broke, my body trembling, my heart pounding, my vision blurring. “You have her... you don’t need me anymore... just... leave me alone...”

The shadows hesitated. They coiled around Nora’s body, curling like smoke, their inky tendrils flickering, fading. The room wavered, the air shimmering, as if reality itself was resetting, snapping back into place.

The cold, suffocating silence shattered. Distant voices echoed from the hallway, growing louder, sharper, the familiar, chaotic hum of hospital life flooding back into the room. Footsteps hurried past, muffled conversations drifted through the walls. The fluorescent lights above flickered, the pale, sterile glow banishing the darkness, pushing back the shadows.

But the shadows didn’t vanish. They hung there, suspended above Nora’s bed, shifting, twisting, uncertain. They lingered for a heartbeat, then another, as if waiting for something. Someone.

I heard movement, a rustling of fabric, a soft, muffled sound that made my blood run cold. My eyes snapped to the far side of the bed. There was someone else in the room.

Mark.

He was standing over Nora, his back to me, his shoulders tense, his posture rigid. His head was bent, his eyes locked on the phone lying next to Nora.

Mark’s hand moved, his fingers curling around the phone, his grip tightening. The shadows twitched, slithering across the bed, crawling toward the phone, sinking into it, disappearing into the dark screen, one by one.

I tried to call out, to warn him, to stop him, but my voice wouldn’t come, my throat tightening, my chest heaving. My body was frozen, heavy, broken, my knees still pressed against the cold tile floor. I could only watch, helpless, as Mark turned, the phone clutched tightly in his hand, his face blank, his eyes cold.

He didn’t look at me. Didn’t even acknowledge my presence. He just turned on his heel and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, quick, hurried. Running.

He just kept running, the phone clutched to his chest, his shoulders hunched, his movements stiff, mechanical.

He was taking the phone.

The shadows were going with him.

I tried to push myself up, my hands trembling, my vision swimming, the room spinning around me. Pain shot through me, sharp and blinding, but I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to move, to get up, to follow him.

But then I heard it. A gasp, sharp, shocked, echoing through the room.

I turned, my vision blurring, the shadows curling at the edges of my eyes. A nurse was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, her hand pressed to her mouth. She looked at me:

“Miss... are you... are you okay?” Her voice was faint, distant, like she was speaking from the end of a long tunnel.

I tried to answer, to tell her to stop Mark, to get help, but my voice broke.

The nurse took a step forward, her eyes locked on me, then shifted, widening, her mouth falling open. “Oh my God...” Her voice broke, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes locked on the bed. “Oh my God... you’re... you’re awake...”

My heart stopped. I followed her gaze, my eyes landing on Nora, her pale, fragile body lying still on the hospital bed. Her chest rose and fell, slow, shallow breaths whispering through her lips. Her eyes were open, wide, unfocused, her gaze drifting, her pupils dark, hollow.

She was awake.

My vision blurred, red, dark spots dancing at the edges of my sight. My head throbbed, sharp, splitting pain lancing through my skull. I felt something warm trickle down my face, sticky, wet. My hand moved to my forehead, my fingers brushing against open wounds, jagged cuts that pulsed, burning, throbbing.

I looked down, my vision spinning, my body swaying. Blood was soaking through my hospital gown, dark red stains spreading across the fabric, dripping down my arms, my legs, pooling on the floor beneath me. My skin was cold, clammy, my body trembling, shivering, numb.

My hearing dulled, the nurse’s voice fading, muffled, distant. I saw her mouth moving, her eyes wide, frantic, her hands reaching for me, but I couldn’t hear her words, couldn’t feel her touch.

My body swayed, my knees buckling, the world tilting, spinning, fading.

The last thing I saw was Nora’s face, her eyes locked on me.