A/N: I revised this story too, they needed some help...if you havn't read it then I hope you enjoy it if you do so!


Don't Fear The Reaper

-

What do you fear?

I wasn't crazy back then, I didn't understand it, maybe because I didn't bother to, or maybe, just maybe it was because deep down, I knew, I knew all along.

-

I can't run fast enough, the rain is slowing me down. A tree branch snaps backwards catching me in the face, I fall to my knees, again.

I pull myself back to my feet, my legs are tired and bleeding, my left shoe is missing.

I dig my fingers into the side bark of the tree and pull, but it rips and sends me right back to my knees.

I can't get up.

The heavy almost blinding rain continues to fall around me, making the dark and fogy woods, almost dream like.

This is only a dream.

This is only a test.

Every other sound is like footsteps coming towards me, but I can't move. They're going to get me, I'm going to be caught, there's no escape, I can't run away anymore.

This is not a dream.

There is no hope left.

Ch 1

"Don't think I don't see you in there!" He screams at me through the glass. Every part of my body is frozen, I can't move or breathe. And he just keeps banging.

Bang bang bang.

"I know you're there, I'm not crazy, do you hear me, I'm not fucking crazy!" He keeps banging on the window, screaming. His blue eyes on fire, burning through me, in me. It hurts.

"Don't think I don't know what you do, what you've done! I see you at night! I am not crazy, do you hear me!? I am not fucking crazy!" He screams again.

There is no phone in my reach, up against this wall on the floor, I can't look away. If I do he may disappear, if I do he may break through, if I do look away, if I do for just one second…

He starts to sob, and I still can't look away.

"You're me," he cries, falling to ground, pointing to himself. He leanings into my window, leaving snot lines along the glass. "Don't you see, we're the same, you and me…we-we- are the same."

'What are you talking about?' I want so badly to shout, 'you're crazy, you're just some crazy freak, I'm nothing like you!'

"You are me!" he hits the window so hard that I close my eyes. In my head I hear the glass breaking, but when I open my eyes, he's standing there, staring at me, directly at me. And I don't hear it, because he whispers it, but I can read it on his lips, I can read his eyes. I can smell it.

"Oh god, oh god…" He is petrified.

I've never seen such terror in any human before, it cuts deeper then my own, so much deeper that it made my guts hurt, like there was something in there clawing around, chewing on anything it could get its teeth on, desperate to get out. Desperate.

He looks like he's about to be sick, he forces his fingers into his lips and claws at the inside of his mouth with his nails, drool and blood now runs down his chin. He's choking on the air around him. Looking directly into my eyes, I can hear it again for some reason, through the glass, "You-you're…me."

He scrambles to his feet, fast, clumsy, desperate. He turns and runs way, not looking back at me, not once, and it's quiet, but my guts won't stop churning. I hate it.

Terror continued to reverberate up and over my spine.

"Call the cops!" My head screamed at me, but I couldn't move, I was too scared, I was scared blind, I was too…fascinated. The memories so fresh they ran over and over again in my head. His pale face, his dirty fingers in his mouth covered in blood, the desperation, all around him, it swarmed around me, almost became me.

An hour later I pull myself to my feet, I loss my footing a little and teeter backwards in to the door, leaning, not falling. Falling.

My hands could hardly hold the phone as I dialed 9-1-1. The women on the other end asked me a series of questions, normal ones, but my guts still hurt anyways.

Are you hurt?

Did he get in?

How long was he there?

Did you know the man?

No.

No.

I don't know.

I don't think so.

After she told me she was going to send a car over and everything was going to be okay and hung up the phone I stayed on it. Just in case they wanted to ask me another question, just in case I remembered something, just in case, he came back.

"Why is your lip bleeding?" The cop asked me.

Confused, I brought two fingers up to my lips and pulled them away. Dark chunks of old and new blood caked them.

"I don't know…maybe…."

Maybe I'd bitten on my lip so hard it started to bleed.

Maybe I'd chewed on it for an hour after.

Maybe it's a bad habit that I've had for years and I can't stop it.

Maybe I've never had beautiful lips.

The officer doesn't ask again. I don't know why. He looked at me, then down at his clipboard, then back at me. He hates me. And I know why.

"Why didn't you call us when the man was here?" He puts the pen cap in his mouth and chews it.

"I didn't have a phone in the room, and I didn't want to leave because…" I chew on pen caps too, "I thought he would be gone…" But not like him.

The cop bites the cap harder, leaving rows of crooked teeth marks. I want very badly to take the pen from him. He's frustrated; he takes the pen from his mouth and scratches his hairline with it, and a line of saliva is now on his head.

"Are you sure this is all you can give me?" I want it off his head. "You're sure now you didn't know him?"

"No," my fingers twitch, "I didn't know him at all…"

"Can you give me your name one last time?"

He asked me everything twice, and I answered everything, twice.

"My name is Vine Seldne." One last time.

"And your age?"

"I'm seventeen." One last time.

The feeling that I'm lying won't get out. It's stuck. I can't scratch it out. I tried. God, I tried.

My mom shut all the blinds and windows for the first time since I can remember. She cried a little, then I went to my room, and it was over.

There are some nights that a person is not supposed to sleep, and nights where a person is supposed to have nightmares. When your dog dies you don't sleep, when you get in a car crash you have nightmares. I was in some twisted in between. If I fell asleep I would dream, but I didn't want to.

Every noise in the house that was ones normal warped. The wind was his cries, the freeway was his fists smashing against the window, the air was his face, his eyes, looking at me, like I was precious.

I didn't sleep that night, but most times, I'm awake. But this time it was different, this time it was a real lack of sleep. The guy wouldn't get out of my head, my memories, my imagination, my fascination. He was in all of them, poisoning them.

The way he looked at me with such crazy blue eyes. How could a man go so mad?

I don't know how, even now, but somehow, blue eyes managed to get through the window that night, because I could feel him, squirming around, begging for me, from me, for some sort of justification.

I could feel his hands holding onto every one of my fingers, I could feel his voice on my neck, whispering.

"You are me, we are the same. You are me, we are the same. You are me, we are the same. You are me, we-" I scratch at my neck again, I can feel the skin peeling under my fingers, it's been hours now.

The next day my alarm clock went off at 5:55. I didn't even remember setting it. I walked past my moms' door to go to the bathroom, and stood there. Do I tell her I'm not going to school? Did I not want to go to school?

I pass her door and go to the bathroom.

I stop at her door again on the way to my room, stood, and went back to my room.

6:43.

Fully dressed, book bag hanging off my shoulder, my car keys griped tight in my hand, I stood at my moms door.

"Fuck it." I'm down the stairs.

My car has no radio.

"What the fuck was that guy's problem anyways, making me scared, making me ashamed?!"

So I talk to myself.

30 miles per hour.

"Who was he? I don't even know…And that cop, that fucking cop, what was his problem, like I asked for some sick freak to bang on my window and…god…assholes. I could have gotten raped or something, or something…and they wouldn't have cared."

40 miles per hour.

"Goddamnit! Get out!" I bang my head against the back of the seat. "How!? How do I know him? His face, it won't get out of my head. Why do I feel like I know him, why does it feel like I haven't seen him in so long…?"

50 mile per hour.

"Why wasn't I more scared…I didn't even cry…what's wrong with me?"

60 miles per hour.

"I wonder if I'll see him again…"

70 miles per hour.

"God, I'm such a freak."

I hit the breaks, my old car skids for a while; the horrible smell of burned rubber poisons the morning air. My joints are tight and the smell makes me nauseous.

Vibrating. I pull my cell phone from my pocket.

Mom.

"Hello?"

"Vine where are you!?"

"I'm at school."

"What? Why?"

"…because it's Monday."

"How could you leave? He could have been waiting for you, he could be here when you get back, you're in danger, how could you just leave?"

I'm standing out side of my moms' door again.

"I don't know…"

"Okay well I'll be here when you get home all right?"

"Mom go to work, I'm going to be fine." I shouldn't be. "He won't be there," maybe, "I can go to dads' house, how's that?"

"Okay, okay, just, be careful."

"I will, bye."

I hung up; I'm in the middle of class, they are all staring at me. Animals are not nearly as amusing as humans.

"Vine, I'm sorry did class interrupt your phone call?"

"Some guy tried to get into my house last night and rape me," a half lie, it makes him flinch. "She wanted to make sure I made it to school, is that okay?"

He regrets the question, the statement as a whole, he hates himself, all in a moment, all in a second, I did it all.

"I'm very sorry to hear that…" That's all he says. That's all he can say.