Chapter Nineteen

Over the course of the next hour, I extracted from Charles as much of his story as he could remember.

As it turned out, he had not developed the same apathy most of our classmates had toward the other dimension. When he and Lannie had broken up, Charles had used the other dimension as something of a hiding place. And even after he had gotten over the relationship ending, he continued to use it in much the same way but with a broader purpose.

"I just needed someplace quiet to sit," he told me, "someplace where no one else was around."

Charles had always been a fairly shy person, but this seemed to be taking it rather far. He even admitted that he felt the same way, that he came to a point where he knew it was just a means of avoidance, but he kept going there.

"After I moved out of my parents' house," he said, "it got even worse; I was spending all my time alone. So I would go to the other dimension - where I was supposed to be alone - and it didn't feel so bad."

Two realizations struck me in rapid succession. The first, that Charles' life, even in high school, hadn't been nearly as perfect as I'd imagined. And the second, that he didn't come to me when he was feeling that way. Had I burned bridges so thoroughly that he really felt I was no longer even an option? Well, he was here now, so maybe I had just placed myself as more of a last resort.

During one particularly long visit to the other dimension, he told me, his vision had begun to shimmer around the edges, like his eyes had filled with unfelt tears. It was the first time he saw the shadows.

"I was trying to blink my vision clear again, and I was moving my head around and holding out my hands, trying to focus on them. And as I was turning, this small shape just darted through my field of vision. I didn't know what it was, but it was the first time anything like that had happened. And I was already getting pretty nervous about my eyes, so I left." His vision had returned to normal after a few minutes, and a few days saw him ready to venture back.

"They started showing up almost every time I was there," he explained, "I didn't know what they were at first - I guess I still don't - but then I saw one of them, I don't know, lift its arm or something. They always just looked like short, little ovals. Not perfect ovals, I mean, the edges weren't perfectly curved or anything, but one of them held up what I'm pretty sure was an arm, like it was reaching out for me. That was the last time I went there.

"I tried to sleep, tried not to think about it. It didn't work; I didn't know if I was imagining everything or what was going on, but then a few days later, I saw one in my room. It was just standing in the corner when I walked in, and as soon as I came in, it left. Like, it looked like it turned around and just walked through the wall. I don't know how it looked like it was turning around, but it did. I didn't sleep there that night, didn't really sleep at all that night, actually. I tried sleeping in my car, but I ended up spending most of the night driving. I just wanted to be as far away as I could. But I knew I'd have to go back.

"After the first few times I saw them with arms, I saw one that looked like it had a head. And a neck too. This short, stocky, little human-shaped thing, except it was only about three feet tall, and I knew it was looking at me. And smiling. Like it knew something I didn't. I could feel it smiling.

"That was maybe five weeks ago, and now whenever I see them, they have arms and heads. Like they're evolving. I don't really go back to my apartment anymore, even though that's not the only place I've seen them. They've been outside too. And inside other places I go: the store, the library. I've even seen them in the TV before, like in whatever show I'm watching, they're there. I can't get away."

I remembered my painting and the very specific spot over the bus window on which Charles had focused his attack. Had he seen one of the shadows riding the bus?

If it weren't for the implications that my friend was harboring a serious mental illness, I thought, I might have found the image quite humorous.