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“Why?” she asks suspiciously.
“Just do it.” I keep my tone calm so as not to sound like I’m giving her an order.
After a moment, she pulls the lid off and sets it down on another napkin.
Grabbing one of her fries, I dip it inside her chocolate shake and hold it out to her.
“Try it.”
She looks at the chocolate shake covered fry then back at me. Her expression says I’ve lost my mind. It’s so comical that a laugh slips free.
“A lot of people do it. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” I wiggle the wet fry in front of her. “Just try it. Trust me.”
The words slip out, and for some reason, I mean them more than for just the fry. I want her to trust me. I want her to know that as long as I’m around, nothing will happen to her. Not only because it’s my duty as a detective but also as a friend. And that’s what she’s become; a friend. Yes, I’d still like to know why she was in my neighborhood and, ultimately, my house, but I also want to help her because no one should ever be as lost and alone as she is.
She eyes the fry with trepidation. I hold my breath as she thinks over whether to trust my words. Surprisingly, she reaches out and takes the fry from me. The act warms something inside me, knowing that in a small way, she does trust me. It may only be for food, but at least it’s something.
Her eyes follow the fry all the way to her mouth, so much so that they cross when it gets close to her nose. Wrinkling her nose cutely, she puts the end of the fry in her mouth and takes a bite.
After several chews, her eyes pop open wide.
“Wow,” she breathes. “That’s really good.”
Chuckling, I say, “Told you.”
She picks up another fry and dips it in her shake on her own. After doing this several more times, she notices me watching her.
“Why aren’t you doing it?”
I smirk. “Because that shit’s nasty.”
Her mouth drops open, and then a second later, she laughs. I’m stunned for a moment from the carefree look on her face, but join in and laugh as well.
Once our food is gone, I gather our trash and take it to a nearby trash can. I retake my seat across from her.
“How have you been doing the past couple of days?”
My last visit to her was two days ago. I normally try to stop by at least every other day, but yesterday was an intense day at work, and all I wanted to do once I got home was take a shower and fall into bed.
She shrugs and looks down at the splinter of wood she’s picking at on the table. “I’m doing better every day. Or that’s what the doctors say anyway.”
“You don’t believe so?”
I know she’s doing better. A week ago, she would have had a panic attack at me touching her when I grabbed her arm to keep her from falling off the bed. She also wouldn’t be sitting out here alone with me right now. She’s talking more than she used to as well. Slowly but surely, she’s starting to open up.
She lifts her head and looks to the side, a faraway look on her face.
“I don’t really know if I’m getting better.” She turns her face to me, and I want to reach out and grab her hand in comfort, but I know she wouldn’t like that. “Sometimes, I feel like I am, but other times… Other times, I don’t.”
She’s referring to her dream. Whatever horrors she saw in her head plague her greatly.
“Want to tell me about your dream?” I ask.
She chews on her bottom lip for a while, dropping her eyes in the process. Her hands fist on the wooden table. I can tell she’s undecided about whether to talk to me.
After several seconds, her eyes go back to mine, and I’m both proud and pleased when she starts speaking.
“I don’t really remember much. It was dark and cold. And… and...” She squeezes her eyes shut and pulls in a ragged breath before opening them again. “The shadow man was there,” she whispers, fear in her voice. “H-he was just standing there.” Her eyes meet mine, and they carry a mountain of pain. “I could only see his eyes. They were glowing.”
