A short story of a haunted woman trying to move on.
The alarm clock rang and once again Emma woke in a pile of sweat. The feeling of liquid all over her body was an oddly comforting feeling. Like clockwork, she replaced her mattress annually due to the permanent yellow ring etched in its quilted pattern.
For decades, it is the same nightmare. Relieving the past was her curse and by now at the age of thirty, she was resigned to her fate. Panic and fear were her family now.
After removing as much sweat as possible she hopped into the shower. The water was ice cold. She abhorred hot showers. Ice was her spirit animal. The absence of heat means no pain or emotion, just like her on the inside. The water touched every inch of her body and it was the only thing she ever let this close.
The physical touch made her stomach turn until she gagged. Imagining physical intimacy was equal to having her fingernails ripped from their beds one by one.
She was perplexed why women would want to be with someone like her. She felt ugly, unattractive, and utterly useful most of the time. She contrasted self-abhorrence with arrogance and ghoulish behaviors.
Her body harbored many secrets. The diagonal scars told of self-hate, the jagged ones that lined her torso were inflicted by others. Across her thighs were scars of which she would never reveal the origin.
Memories never leave her mind. The past is like a lingering ghost and she relieved those horrific moments in the swamp asleep or awake.
She never thought in a million years that working as a police detective would be her future. Yet, here she was after her shift at the precinct walking home in full uniform. Everyone thought she was nuts to park the car and walk five miles each night. As her superior would say in his father-like tone “this is a major safety concern, Emma.” She was unphased.
Living with monsters means you are never afraid of what can get you in the night.
At Elm St., she rounded a corner hearing a voice shout from behind.
“Hey! Are you just going to ignore me?!”
Footsteps could be heard gaining on her position — she ignored it. She felt numb, unconcerned, and was willing to accept her fate at this moment.
“Seriously! Emma! Stop running from me!” The audible yell left her tingling all over her body. Gritting her teeth stopped and turned to face her assailant.
It was the same old thing every time with him. He created a narrative of a relationship that didn’t exist. This month he accused her of breaking up with him. She never understood how his twisted mind worked.
He refused to let her go.
She spoke calmly in an inhumanly even tone to the man standing under the streetlight.
“I told you not to contact me again. I was very clear. Now walk away.” She was done with him and he refused to leave her alone — even after all these years. The streetlight flickered, filling the movement with a horrific ambiance. The air felt heavy and she was trying not to visibly gasp for air.
“I am finished with you. I have had enough. You have done enough!” She was shouting. The shadows from her arms were breakdancing across the pavement.
The man stood stoic.
She expected him to attack, but instead, he broke his stoic exterior breaking down in tears. His tall figure collapsed to the ground onto his knees and he begged.
“Please don’t leave me. I am begging you. I am so sorry for everything I did that put your job in danger. Your life is in danger. Please forgive me, Emma…Please. I was a stupid kid, angry. You never deserved all the crap I put you through. Just be with me one more time.”
The answer to his pathetic attempt to get back into her life was pulling her gun she aimed and — pretended to fire.
“Bang.”
She imagined the smoke from her weapon floating up towards the sky. His body lay collapsed on the ground. The streetlight made it feel like a movie in slow motion.
She was proud. She finally stood up to him.
A sudden break in the silence came when a small older woman was sitting on her front porch smoking a cigarette and watching the events unfold.
“Excuse me, Officer…”
Emma turned her gaze to the elderly fellow. “Yes, ma’am what can I do for you?” She slid her gun back into place but left the safety off.
With an audible gulp, the woman asked “Who are you talking to?!” The woman’s voice trembled as the cigarette dropped to the flow. She was stunned and fearful at the imaginary scene she witnessed.
The only person standing in the shadow of the streetlight was Officer Emma Scott.
Emma smirked and slowly continued her walk shouting back “No one. Everything is fine, just go back to your home. I was simply dealing with ghosts of the past. Have a wonderful evening.”
Tas The Artist 
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