Chapter Text
The same dream happened again. It was the same dark figure lingering over me as I slept. I saw it all outside of my body and could do nothing to stop it. Was it Death? I've thought for the longest time that I wanted to die. Who would miss me anyway? Why should I bother fighting against this world any longer? Who did I have in this world besides myself?
Life has been a cruel joke to me but I guess my fear of ceasing to exist has kept me lingering on this Earth. I may have a few friends close enough to deem my family but it just isn't the same. I was told at a very young age that my mother abandoned me on those church steps so that I could bless my adoptive parents with a child since they couldn't have one of their own. Their so called blessing was my literal hell. I still remember the day that I ran away from home so vividly in my mind, even though I block it out as best as I can. It's usual on these nights when I wake up in a cold and feverish sweat that I remember the humble beginnings.
It had to be Death watching me. What could be more ominous and menacing as Death itself? I should have died many times over so either he's waiting for the grand finale or just dragging me along to suffer.
I roll over on my side and stare at the alarm clock. The crimson numbers tell me that it's 3:46am but it feels like it's much earlier. My relationship with the night has always been a bizarre one. I could have sworn that I was nocturnal with how relaxed and alive I feel at night while the day time blends together disjointedly.
I promised that I would open the shop at 11 and not a minute later. Peter was a good boss but he was only so lenient. He knew the problems I've had lately and he's been very understanding, just as I've been understanding that he has a business to run and needs reliable help. Working at the record shop has been the only job I've had and I've loved it. Getting to learn about the music forbidden in my home growing up has been a great "fuck you" to everything I was told. Being force-fed God and his teachings made me run as fast as I could the other way.
Of all the places my mother could have left me, why a church? As much as I would love to know her name or know what she looks like, that has and will be my biggest question. I try to give her some credit; she tried to take me to what she thought would be the safest place. I have to give the majority of credit to Grace, though.
I was a 16 year old runaway who made it to New York City from a small town in Rhode Island with only a backpack of a few items and whatever money I could steal from my parent's wallets. I had been sheltered by the church my whole life and I was scared but something inside me guided me to the city. I wasn't meant for the life that was forced upon me and I knew that no matter what came to be, escaping was my only option. I didn't sleep much because I was so scared of what could happen to me when my guard was down. Grace found me nodding off on a park bench and struck up a conversation with me.
"You look like you're far from home."
I remained silent, clutching my backpack close to me, staring down at my feet.
"I'm not going to hurt you. Are you hungry? I could get you something to eat." My stomach was empty and I was starving, having used the last of my money to buy an energy bar. I looked up to her face for the first time and took her in: her hair was white and blended into grey and in a tight bun on the top of her head. She looked harmless but I was untrusting. That's when the voice came.
"Trust me. I want to help you."
This wasn't just an instinctual voice of blind trust. I heard her voice clear as day in my head. This had happened a few times when I was younger but I chalked it up to coincidence or childhood imagination. The voices got worse as I entered my teenage years, hearing so many things that I didn't want to know. I practiced so hard to not hear the voices but they flooded in constantly. It wasn't until I practiced closing my mind off to them that I was able to start controlling it. Even then, it still comes on suddenly and out of my control.
This woman was still looking at me with a gentle smile on her face, waiting for my response. Most people would have given up by now but she stuck around, patiently. She extended her hand towards me and as scared as I was, I stood my ground and trusted the voice.
"Maybe I should introduce myself first. My name is Grace. What's your name?"
I contemplated giving her a fake name but the voice was still ringing in my head. I took her hand into mine and her warmth flooded through my body. Whatever power that was nestled deep inside me shot out through my fingertips and as soon as we touched, I felt everything about Grace: I felt her moments of happiness in life, I felt her nervousness of meeting a strange kid on a park bench but more importantly, I didn't feel any malicious intent.
"Alice. You can call me Allie."
Grace took me home with her that day and I waited for the carpet to get pulled out from under me every day. I woke up in her spare room thinking "Today is the day she's going to tell me to get lost," but she never did. She made me three meals a day, bought me clothes and anything I needed, and she gave me the unfiltered company I had needed for so long. I never told her why I ran away but I always had this feeling she knew anyway. She was very in tune with me.
Grace never had children and her husband died a decade prior. She told me that children would have been nice but it was never in their plans to conceive. I always guessed that this was why she was so happy taking care of me. One day, she came home and told me that she enrolled me in the local high school.
"You need to continue your education and be around some people your age. You can't hang out with this old lady all the time!"
At first, I didn't believe her. I had been homeschooled all my life and I didn't think she would be able to just enroll me without being my parent or having any kind of birth certificate or other documentation. I walked into the high school, waiting to be told by some teacher to leave and they never did. My name was on every class list and I was a regular junior student, antisocial and very awkward. It was hard adjusting to being around so many people my age and I was super shy and untrusting but I found a calling in taking art classes. We were only allowed to color in Jesus related coloring books as I was growing up and that became very tedious. Once my senior year came and went, I was accepted into a decent college. I received my Associate's in Art. I felt like life was finally going my way.
That was until Grace became gravely ill. The doctors couldn't tell us what was wrong with her but they knew her heart was failing and she wouldn't have much time. I finally felt the carpet being pulled out from under me. That last night by her side, she handed me an envelope and held my hand as tight as she could, saying that everything I would need is in there and to only open it after she passes.
"Thank you, Alice," she whispered.
"What for?
"You've given my life so much purpose these last few years. I'm glad I was able to serve you."
"Serve me? What are you talking about," I question, tears strolling down my face, "You gave me a chance at life, Grace. Everything that I am now, I owe to you."
"You don't owe me a single thing. I'll only ask you to promise me something, Alice," she says in between coughs.
"Anything," I reply, using the sleeve of my jacket to wipe away the tears and snot.
"Trust in your voice. There are big plans for you but he will show you the way."
She smiled at me one last time and closed her eyes. I kept her hand in mine until her life was gone a few minutes later. She was buried next to her husband as one of her final wishes. There was a lot of paperwork in the envelope, a lot of it way over my head. A business card on top led me to a lawyer by the name of Larry Bryant and a note in her handwriting that read "for any questions you have."
After my initial mourning period, I decided to pay Mr. Bryant a visit and he was eager to welcome me into his office. He first offered his condolences and opened himself to any questions I had.
"Grace left me with a lot of paperwork and I'm not sure what it all means. I'm also not sure about what to do with her apartment or anything." I hand over the small stack of papers to Mr. Bryant and he scans them quickly.
"I helped prepare her will and testament and a lot of these papers are part of that. Did she go over any of this with you, Alice?"
"Allie, please. No, she didn't. She got so sick all of the sudden. She just told me everything I would need would be in here."
"She wasn't wrong about that. Grace wanted to make sure that you were taken care of before she passed. She left her apartment and all her assets to you."
My mouth dropped. I couldn't believe that she had done this. She had mentioned that she had no family to pass anything onto but I never knew that I would be the sole inheritor of everything.
"What do you mean by 'assets'," I ask him. He looks through the papers one more time before answering.
"She had a trust she set up in your name where you would receive some of it once she passed and the rest of it at a later date. Looking at these papers, you're looking at over $400,000."
My heart sank. Where did she have that kind of money hidden away? I knew she didn't work and we lived together comfortably but she always said the same thing. "My husband had family money that we invested and made more money off of." I didn't think it was that amount of money.
"I can't believe it. Is there just a bank account that deposits that $400,000 over a span of time? I don't really know what to say or what to ask, Mr. Bryant. All of this is so new to me."
"You don't need to worry about that at all, Allie. Everything is set up and I'm able to give you all the information but I think you've misunderstood me. When I said that you're looking at $400,000, I meant that you're looking at that today. The rest of the trust is well over $800,000. She put it in her will that you'd receive the rest after a certain amount of time has passed and you haven't spent it all needlessly. She wanted to make sure that you would be okay for a very long time."
After she died, I found myself in quite a slump. I kept her apartment since she owned it outright and it was my one true home but the depression of being alone kept me from continuing with college right away. I knew that I didn't want to squander the money she left me away and NYC can be an expensive place to live so I got a job at a record shop both for monetary and social reasons. Some friends that I made during those short high school years have stuck around and have been there for me through Grace's death. The loneliness shouldn't be nearly as bad as it is.
But it's so bad. Her words keep coming back to me and I can't make sense of them: "There are big plans for you but he will show you the way." She knew that religion was a very sore spot for me and she didn't seem overly religious. She didn't force me into church on Sunday, there were no crosses or Bibles in her home and I wasn't forced to my knees every night to pray before sleep. Maybe she was religious and kept that away from me, knowing that it could potentially trigger a lot of bad memories? I guess I'll never know.
As much as the night time relaxes me, all these thoughts come dredging back up like black slugs wrapping around my insides. I know that if I don't get some sleep, I'll never wake up in time to open up the shop and it isn't long after I close my eyes that I drift right back into my dream.
I saw him come back and he stood next to my bed as I slumbered and somehow, I felt at ease. If he was Death, his presence was surprisingly soothing His gloved hand pushes back some hair out of my face and the moonlight strikes against him. His hair is long, black, silky and he's wearing an elegant outfit, something old and looking of a different time. His face is painted black and white and illuminates under the light as his eyes, one emerald green and the other a pearl white, look upon my sleeping body. His painted lips curl into a small smile.
"You'll never be alone again, ghuleh. Never again."