The Watcher

27. Monsters?

It had been a week since I'd stormed out on Atticus, and a couple of days since his last attempt at getting me to talk to him. He'd tried using a cup of americano from my favourite café as a lure: some futile attempt at persuading me to answer my kitchen door. The cold cup of coffee was still sitting untouched on the concrete yard, even now.

I'd heard his apologies and his excuses, and maybe on some level I'd accepted them. I knew why Olivia had done what she did. The pragmatist in me understood that their world had certain rules and allowing a human to witness what I had would be a huge violation. But despite understanding her actions, I couldn't shake the discomfort surrounding their involvement in my life and what future it might bring.

Still, there was this voice in my head which reasoned there was more to the situation than what was on the surface. It all stemmed from Atticus, and his books, and the bookshelf nestled in the alcove of his living room. It had been stuffed with books, but the key difference between the two memories in my head was the condition of those books. One remembered them as pristine and untouched, while the other saw how each spine had creases from frequent use. That transition said a lot, but did it say enough to risk falling deeper down into this rabbit hole I'd stumbled into?

As I thought of the bizarro world I'd fallen into, I looked around the bustling bar. For once the scene reflected the muddle of paranormal creatures and reality in my head. It was the first Saturday night since Halloween, so —as it had every year— the bar had been transformed into a den of disguise and desire. Black satin and red velvet billowed from the ceiling and draped down the walls, shifting the earthy, warm atmosphere of the bar into something sinister and seductive. Hovering over the bar, watching over Callum and Max as they served the masses, was a tribute to Pennywise. With yellow maniacal eyes that watched you wherever you walked, and hair that glowed red from the lighting Kelly had hidden in the rafters, it was chilling enough to send a shiver down any spine.

Just as the bar was decked out to the nines, so were we. Most of the others had embraced the chance to go all out with their costumes, taking the opportunity to let their imagination run wild. Emma was a real life china doll, and Callum had channelled Columbia from Rocky Horror with fishnets and an entire spray can of red hair dye. I, however, had hoped Kelly would be too busy to notice my low effort attempt. I'd tried to get away with a feeble set of devil horns, but Kelly had other ideas.

Now, as I meandered through the crowd, I shifted the full tray of empty glasses onto my hip and tried to rearrange the tinsel halo buried amongst my hair. Whether it was just a coincidence, or Kelly's idea of a joke, I found myself in a white, corseted angel costume more suited to the strip club next door. If not for my heavy black boots and kohl-lined scowl, I would have fit in perfectly with the other provocative costumes around me.

I moved with the crowd as it ebbed and flowed to the music, navigating the sea of mythical monsters. From vampires with plastic fangs to werewolves caked in fake fur, I counted off each of the cult classics. No matter the choice of costume, each one of them was just a way to escape reality. A way to forget who they were for the night and play the role of something deadly and dangerous instead. If only they knew that there was already a creature out there that could make them forget whenever they wanted. To me, that fact was scarier than any ghost or ghoul.

I knew the Watchers could kill me in an instant if the orders came, but what truly scared me was the idea that my mind wasn't safe with them. At any moment they could make me a different person, take my memories, my experiences, and mould them into someone else. For me that was more terrifying than any physical pain, because without my mind, who was I?

My body was just a shell made of limbs and flesh. It could be sliced and diced and rendered nothing more than blood and bones, but despite that I would still be me. The idea that the Watchers could mess with my head was more unnerving than any threat of physical harm. At least to me. My mind may have been fragile and twisted from past mistakes, but it was still mine. And despite what Mr R put me through, I hadn't lost it. Not yet at least.