Chapter Thirteen

Paranoia

Petra was still obsessing over the message displaying her last name on her building's entrance in the late afternoon. She thought about it deeply, trying to remember a time when she had mentioned it to anyone, but failing to find any.

There was good reason for that, she bitterly thought. She hadn't told her last name to anyone there, except for her landlady, and the woman lived hours away. She seriously doubted the woman had driven there just so she could pin a piece of paper holding a warning message with Petra's name on it.

One thing was for sure though - it hadn't, couldn't, have been the old lady. At least not this time.

She had considered Natasha, the only person with access to her personal documents, but she always left the apartment with them, she would've noticed if the girl had searched through her stuff and she had developed the habit of locking her bedroom door every time she left, ever since that pair of footprints had mysteriously appeared in her room's ceiling. So it hadn't, couldn't, have been Natasha. At least not this time.

Who then? Who could've possibly known and why would they write it and, apparently, randomly leave it on the board for the whole building to see? What was the point? Making people be wary of her? Why?

If the point was to upset and concern her, then whoever had done it had definitely succeeded.

Still consumed by these worrying thoughts, Petra didn't even notice Eli until he gently grabbed her arm. He was leaving their building while she was arriving.

"Hey Petra," he greeted, amused that she hadn't seen him.

"Oh, hi Eli. Sorry, didn't notice you."

"Yeah, I figured. You looked distracted."

"I was just... lost in thought, I guess."

"Can't be healthy to think that much," he joked. "Join me for coffee?"

Petra accepted the invite, more than happy to postpone her arrival at the building and eager for Eli's good company.

He led her to the tunnel she'd seen her first night but had never got around to explore. The tunnel was incredibly short and, after it, there was a lovely, small and sunny square with a couple of boutiques and coffee-shops. It was quaint, beautiful and peaceful, hidden away from traffic and people and noise. She kicked herself mentally for not exploring it sooner.

The afternoon was pleasant in Eli's company. They both ordered coffee and donuts and enjoyed the late, setting sun in the warm square. Eli was quite easy to befriend and talk to. She ended up sharing with him that she was studying to become a psychologist, though he didn't know her well enough to see the irony in it.

Eli told her he wanted to become a botanist, though he was also really interested in photography and Kyle was studying Marine Biology, though he also had a passion for music. He sincerely had no clue what Harry wanted to do or be, which made them both laugh.

"Kyle is a softie. He immediately accepted Harry, even though I thought he was robbing us at first. But he's cool, just doesn't talk much."

"Have you and Kyle known each other for long?"

"Basically all our lives, really. We were neighbors back home. None of us has the most stellar families, so we've pretty much been each other's family since... ever. We've got each other's backs."

"That's really great."

Eli continued to entertain her with funny tales of his and Kyle's many childhood and teenage misadventures, until the sun finally disappeared. He ended up inviting her for dinner and she gleefully accepted.

Once inside their apartment, Petra was quick to greet Harry, who was once again lost in his videogame. He raised his hand to greet and acknowledge her and she deemed it good enough.

Eli and Petra ended up cooking pasta to which they added a myriad of other ingredients. Petra taught Eli how to cook her famous tomato sauce, which he seemed to love. They carried their plates to the living room with Petra offering one to Harry, who gratefully accepted and Eli offered them all a cold beer. They ate while having joyful and casual conversation and even Harry participated, once in a while, probably because his hands were busy and he couldn't play and eat at the same time. They were almost finished when Kyle arrived. He greeted his flat-mates with a brotherly handshake or pat in the shoulder and Petra with a warm smile followed by a kiss on the cheek. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry anymore and the room was unnaturally hot.

"There's a plate for you inside the microwave and beer on the fridge," Eli informed.

"Just how I like it," Kyle joked, heading towards the kitchen. "I wish I was gay just so I could marry you," he playfully shouted.

Petra laughed while Eli rolled his eyes. "I would have to be gay too, you idiot. And if I was, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be my type."

"What do you mean?" Kyle asked, sounding hurt. "Of course I'd be."

"No, not at all," Eli replied, faking seriousness. "I'd sooner go with Harry."

Harry chocked on his food and they all shared a laugh at that.

The conversation only got more alive and funnier with Kyle's presence. Seeing the boys mess with each other, as only brothers could do, was extremely entertaining and endearing.

Petra couldn't feel more at home or more grateful that they had entered her life, to the point where, if Harry hadn't already got ahead and did it, she would ask to live in their couch. And even Harry himself, though not talkative, provided comfort with his mere presence.

After dinner, they all enjoyed another relaxed evening, talking, joking and listening to music. Kyle made a joint and passed it on to her who, against her better judgement, smoked again. And again and again and again. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed that much.

It was close to 3 a.m. when she decided to go back home. She had promised herself she would go to bed "early" that night.

The boys insisted she stayed longer, and she wanted to, but eventually she got up.

"I really can't, guys. I really need to sleep. Can't miss my morning class tomorrow, it's an important one."

With a heavy heart and very much against her will, she left. Soon, she found herself in the empty, cold hallway, immediately wishing to return to the boys' living room. It was so dark, chilly and silent in the corridor, she suddenly felt lonely and out of place.

Avoiding to even look at the stairs that lead to the attic, she walked down the steps to her own floor.

Her footsteps echoed through the bare walls, but something felt wrong. When she stopped, the echoes continued. Someone was also going down the stairs and it felt like it was from behind her.

Petra shuddered just thinking about last time she had heard someone coming down the stairs - it had been the scary elevator guy.

The most daunting thought was that if someone was walking down the stairs, from behind her, then whoever it was could only be coming from the attic.

Neither one of those thoughts was particularly exciting, so she started walking faster.

When she felt the footsteps behind her picking up their pace as well, so as to meet hers, she panicked. Legs trembling, she walked even faster. Whoever was following her then started running, she could hear it, she could feel them getting closer and closer and so Petra ran as well.

Arriving at her floor, basically jumping over the last couple of steps, she ran to her door and nervously searched for the right key. The footsteps were sounding louder, closer, too close, whoever was following her sounded desperate to arrive on time. They sounded like they were already at the last flight of stairs, in viewing sight of her, but Petra refused to look back, too busy looking for her key.

They were almost there, she could feel them behind her when she finally found the key and, with a shaking hand, managed to open the door, run inside and quickly close it behind her.

Only a couple of seconds after, something heavy slammed against it with impressive strength. For one terrifying moment, she believed the door would be smashed.

Looking down, she could detect someone's shadow, creeping beneath the door, in the tiny space between tile and wood, as if someone was standing close behind it. Still much shaken, she gathered the courage to get as close as possible to the door and peek through its peeping hole.

She saw nothing, no one. Yet, the shadow had been there only a second before.

And someone had followed her. More than hear it, she felt it. Someone had raced and chased her down the stairs, someone had slammed against the door. And then no one was there!

Petra leaned against the door and pulled at her hair. She was going mental.

Her breathing became faster, yet shallower. Petra could feel the whole world closing down around her. Her heart beat faster than ever and it hurt every time it did. She felt extremely hot and then intensely cold. She was dizzy, nauseous, like something was preventing air from going into her lungs.

As quickly as she could, she went to her room, bumping into walls on her way there. Without a thought, she desperately swallowed a bunch of her pills, one of each. One of them was bound to calm her down. One of them had to bring back her sanity.

She didn't know if it was fear, anxiety, confusion or something else entirely, but she felt extremely out of control, like she couldn't control her own body and reactions and there was nothing more frustrating or terrifying than that.

Petra sat on her bed, hugged her knees and rested her head on them. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on controlling her breathing while she waited for the medicine to do its job.

More than anything, she wanted to call her mother, and she almost did, but that would be extremely unfair and selfish, not to mention counterproductive. Her mother would be over the top and sick with worry, which in turn would make Petra feel even worse. Besides, she could already hear her mother begging for her to go back home.

Then again, maybe she should. Maybe it would be best if she went back. Her problem was only getting worse and she was almost positive the move had triggered it.

"It's coming back," she found herself whispering to no one. "And it's getting stronger."

On the other hand, the fighting side of her wasn't ready to give up. A part of her refused to lose, she refused to be defeated. That part of her wasn't ready to acknowledge that maybe it was stronger than her, maybe she could never be normal and happy and free the same way everyone else was.

"Petra, are you alright?"

She lifted her head to find Natasha standing at her bedroom's entrance. She looked worried.

"I heard you slamming the door and thought... Maybe you need someone to talk to."

"I didn't-" Petra stopped herself, mid-sentence, taking a deep breath and raising her hands to her temples. It would be useless to try to explain to anyone that someone else had done it.

After taking a sigh, Natasha bravely entered her room and put her arm around her, gently, subtly convincing Petra to get up.

"Come on, I have just the right medicine for those hard days," she said, trying to sound cheerful and upbeat.

A moment later, Petra was sitting in their couch, feeling completely exhausted and depressed while Natasha happily walked out of the kitchen holding a mug in each hand and mumbling some annoyingly cheery tune.

Petra graciously accepted one of the mugs and took a sip. It was delicious, though she seemed to recognize it with her mind instead of her palate. She felt completely worn out and separated from her body. The warm and sweet liquid was heaven to her taste buds and throat, but Petra could hardly feel it, as if she was watching someone else drinking it.

"Hot chocolate is always healthy for the soul," Natasha said, cuddling up on the other couch.

"Why are you always so nice to me?" Petra asked, before she could contain herself.

"I like you, Petra," Natasha replied with a smile. "I want you to feel happy here, with me. I want you to feel at home, I want you to stay."

It took a while for Petra to understand why that explanation felt wrong to her. It was like Natasha had read her mind.

Petra nodded and mumbled a weak, "Thank you. I guess," before taking another sip of her hot chocolate.

"Oh, by the way," Petra said, suddenly remembering, "Harry asked about you."

Natasha almost dropped her mug. And Petra witnessed an amazing transformation. Happy, cheery, bubbly Natasha was suddenly cold, almost frozen, indifferent and stiff. She wasn't smiling or frowning, her face went completely unreadable, expressionless. It was kind of freaking Petra out.

"You know Harry?" Natasha asked, her voice betraying no emotion.

"Yes, he's living with some friends of mine, up on the sixth floor."

Natasha nodded and stared at her hot chocolate. It was kind of interesting to see, to know she was human, capable of emotion besides cheerfulness.

"So... You guys know each other? Are you friends?"

"It's... complicated," Natasha replied, now staring at the wall, looking completely miserable and lost in thought.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled in. After a few moments that felt more like hours, Natasha got up and put her mug on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, I... I'm too tired," she whispered. "I'm going to bed."

Apparently, hot chocolate couldn't heal everything, Petra bitterly thought.

As Natasha left, visibly upset, Petra couldn't help but think she should probably follow her, try to offer some comfort, but found herself incapable of doing so. She was too stunned by the meds to feel caring or anything else but exhausted.

She slowly got up, left her mug next to Natasha's and returned to her room. She sat on her desk and wrote lists. Lists of things she had to do, things she should do, things she should've done but didn't and things she would never do, but wished she would.

The sun was already greeting her when she finally fell asleep, surrounded by dozens of worthless papers.