When I was about three years old, I was adopted out of South Korea and went to live with my new parents in British Columbia, Canada. Goldbridge was a town surrounded by lush forests and looming mountains, and was inhabited by those who wanted to be left alone. For a place that didn't even appear on most maps, it was surprisingly populated. The part about wanting to be left alone kind of backfired, I guess. Everyone knew everyone, and a single whispered secret would spread like wildfire in the matter of hours. I became the talk of the town at the age of nine, after I was playing with some kids on a frozen lake and fell through the ice. Yes, I technically drowned. My heart stopped beating, but thanks to the nosy neighbors watching our every move, I was dragged out of the water and resuscitated in record time. That's when it all started. A "miracle," my ass. While half of the town was coming over to check on my wellbeing and exclaim how lucky I was, I was busy being traumatized by the bloody headless cat wandering around my house. Imagine being a nine year old seeing that. Worse, imagine recognizing the familiar markings of your beloved tuxedo cat who was ran over the year before. Rest in peace, Mr. Charm Charm. The doctors said I must have been experiencing hallucinations as the result of such a stressful and terrifying near-death incident. I learned to keep it to myself after. But I wasn't the only one noticing something strange. They started noticing me, too.
After a long night, I woke up to head down to the gym. I whispered a good morning to Fluffy, because we're on good terms now. I just don't want to look at him. I had found the perfect solution to my new sleeping arrangement. The openings under my bed had been stuffed with blankets to block them off, as well as muffle out the wheezing. My parents wouldn't wake up until 7:00, so I made sure to silently glide down the stairs and snatch an apple from the kitchen counter as I tip-toed through. The white marble floors were cold against my bare feet despite the warm summer season, and I tied my hair up at my door to avoid it sticking to my back from sweat when I walked down to the gym. Straight jet black hair fell over one shoulder as I bent down to tie my runners, and when I was done I reached for the black duffel bag that contained everything I'd need that morning. Mom always complained that keeping my gym bag by the front door ruined the look of her foyer. If anything, though, I thought it added some character. The house was too white; too spotless. As I slipped out of my house, I hopped down the dark stone steps and started making my way down the long, winding dirt road that was our driveway. Despite the selection of BMWs sitting in our garages, I never drove into Goldridge when it was summer. We were only about 5 minutes out of the town. Besides, it was a nice day for a walk.
Thursdays are for cardio. The jump rope was a classic I used, as well as the treadmill, obviously. I swiped my white membership keycard against the glass entrance and marched in. The gym's interior was a dull gray expanse with red accents, and was empty except for a couple of twenty-something men. I weaved around all the workout equipment without acknowledging them and headed into the change rooms. Inside, it was like a small maze of silver metal lockers and wooden benches. A giant mirror took up an entire wall, because everyone needs to check themselves out, you know? As I was getting into some black leggings and a matching sports tank, I caught some movement out of the corner of my left eye. Maybe it was because I was thinking about the party being thrown tomorrow night, or I'm just a dumbass. Either way, I totally forgot about them. And so, while completely alone in the women's change rooms, I turned my head away from my reflection in the mirror to glance over at the showers. Instant regret. Immediately, I played it off by zooming in on a Dove shampoo bottle someone left behind before I got here. I kept a perfect poker face as I strutted over to pick it up and take it for myself. "Must be my lucky day!" I smiled brightly, as if this shampoo bottle was the answer to my prayers. At least my hygienic ones. In an instant I felt the hot, swampy breath on the side of my neck, the slapping sound of bare feet as the intensity of their eyes came closer and closer. Then it was quiet. As I turned away from the showers to go and place the shampoo into my duffel bag, I tried my best to act like I couldn't see the shiny white face inches away from my own. The wide yellow eyes that blankly peered into my slightly slanted brown ones. The scent of rotting eggs. I saw the popping veins and struggled to keep my breakfast down. I managed to make it back to my locker and then made a beeline for the exit. It was all going great until I was about halfway out of the change room, when I heard the slapping of feet waddling up behind me, and being the royal idiot that I am, I kept my arm extended on the door as I was leaving, pausing for a second, waiting. Wait, nononono you stupid motherfucker that's not a fucking person! Every muscle in my body tensed up, but I already gave myself away at this point. I slowly twisted my head for what felt like forever. I held my breath as I took in the wet bony body of what must have been a woman at some point standing in the middle of hall. The skin looked slimy. Knobby knees stuck out as it waddled closer still. A patchy bush sat below a gaunt stomach, and hanging right above the belly button were a pair of... Oh, ew. If my boobs ever sagged like that, I'd chop them off. Or at least throw them over my shoulders. Looking back up, we locked eyes in a staring contest. It stood less than five feet away from me, water dripping down it's ratty blonde hair. Its yellowing eyes ogled into mine, nearly popping out of their sockets. "Nnnguuh," My mouth dried up as it slowly parted its mouth to form a toothy grin. The yellowed eyes seemed to pop out of the sockets, bulging as if to ogle deeper into my own. Before it could take another step towards me, I yanked my arm back to my side, letting the heavy steel door close with a final thud. Nasty.
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"Well, hey there, stranger." There is an unspoken rule at the gym. Don't fucking talk to someone working out when they have headphones on. Personally, I'd rather not be talked to at all. But behold, a jackass. I was covered head to toe in sweat, using my adrenaline rush from the situation in the change rooms to skip for a solid twenty minutes, no breaks.
(Chapter 1 will be continued at a later date, thank you)