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I left the shop without purpose. My need for food had completely disappeared, overshadowed by my disappointment. Bulbs seemed unnecessary in this state. Everything lost its urgency; it could all just wait. I felt like all my excitement and joy from my recent accomplishments had been sapped from me, and now I just wanted to wallow in yet another disappointment.

My gorgeous neighbour had turned out to be a jerk. And on top of that, he was apparently a psychic jerk, who said had forseen that no one would fall in love with me... not for a while. I could've screamed.

Instead I just silently crept the few feet back to my own side of the building and through my door. I flicked the lights on, and the single bulb that remained feebly lit the room. Even my new apartment, which only moments ago had seemed lovely and welcoming, now felt cold and hostile. Maybe this wasn't where I was supposed to be. It had to be an overflow of my bad luck, I decided.

Maybe it would wear off in the morning, I tried to convice myself, as I slunk off to my bedroom. I slid into bed, still wearing my moving clothes, and curled up beneath the covers. Before I could stop myself, I started to cry, sobbing into my pillows.

I thought I had rid myself of all the feelings I had felt for Rick, that I had moved on, but apparently not. It had just been hiding, pushed away deep down. It came rushing to the surface now. And again I realized how alone I was, so horribly alone.

I don't know how long I cried for because I cried myself asleep. When I woke up my face was pressed into the damp of my tear-soaked pillow and it was still dark out. I couldn't place what had woken me up so suddenly, because I didn't remember having a terrible dream or hearing a loud noise. I was just awake; really awake. It was like my body clock had suddenly gone awry and decided that now was the ideal time to wake up.

I rolled over my bed, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. What time was it? My hands grappled in the dark, reaching out to find my cellphone on my beside table, where I usually left it. I wanted to know what the time was. My hands reached out, unseen in the pitch black of the night. I felt the edge of my night stand, and ran my hand over the top, seeking the sleek form of my fancy cellphone.

Just as my fingers found it, I felt a breeze, a warm breath on my hand. Still clutching my cellphone, I retracted my hand, gasping. I held my hand close to my chest, protecting it. What was that?

I figured I was just imagining things because I was depressed, awake in the middle of the night and in a new apartment. It must have been a heat vent, right? But it had distinctly felt like breath on the wrist. And it had come from below my hand, almost from under my bed, while the vents in my basement suite were all on the ceiling...

My hand shook violently as I opened my cellphone, seeking the comfort of some kind of light, even if it was the dim blue from the screen of my cellphone. I felt like a child again, seeking the comfort of the beside lamp after a nightmare. The cellphone cast a ghostly glow around my room, barely improving the darkness. I held it up and scanned my room with it, using it as a weak flashlight.

Something flashed by, darting past in the shadows. Every muscle in me tensed, and I dropped my cellphone into the folds of my blanket, plunging the room back into darkness. I fought against my fear, willing myself to move, to think rationally. I lunged for my beside table, for the lamp to scare away the monsters in the shadows. I gripped the neck of it with both hands, strangling it, and fumbled for the switch. I panicked, it seemed like the darkness was moving closer, swallowing me.

I found the nub on its neck, and pushed it in. It sprang to life, flooding the room in the comforting yellow light. There was nothing there. My bedroom door was still closed, as was my closet. I toyed with the idea of peering under my bed, but then remembered that there was no way in hell anything could fit under there -- every inch of that space had been stuffed with boxes and suitcases. If there was a monster under there, it would have to be a very, very small one.

I uncovered my cellphone and checked the time: it was three in the morning. I sighed deeply, I needed to get back to sleep for work tomorrow, otherwise I would be completely useless.

I breathed deeply, deliberately, to calm myself down. Breath in, breath out. Concentrate on that, not the products of your overactive imagination. In the warm light, my fears seemed foolish, childish. I chastised myself for acting so silly, telling myself to get a grip and grow up.

But I still slept with the light on that night.

+ + +

The next few weeks were strange. I slowly recovered from the blow I received at the Psychic shop, my logical side diminishing its effects. The man claimed to be a Psychic, after all. What weight could I put in his opinion? I had dismissed his premonition, declaring it nonsense... but it still stung, even weeks after.

Like I had said, I just wanted someone to reassure me. I had lost most of my friends in the break up with my ex. We had been together so long that the friends I had were his friends too. I couldn't stand to look at them. They must've known what he was doing, and never told me. I didn't consider them friends anymore.

So I was alone, really, with no one to support me in this. No one to reassure me. Even a stranger had kicked me when I was down. Insult to injury. I couldn't stand it.

But on top of my depression and overall crappy mood, there was something weird going on in my apartment. It was hard to describe, but things felt different in there, ever since the night I visited. It still felt unwelcoming and hostile. At first, I thought it was my attitude and my depression, but once I got a hold of myself again, the feeling didn't change. I would come home after a good day, in a good mood, but the moment I stepped into my apartment, it was like it got sucked right out of me. I felt so drained.

And there were other things too... But, I felt silly saying them aloud. if I tell myself that I don't believe in Psychics, then I can't believe in those other things either, right?

+ + +

"I'm going crazy." I said aloud, without meaning to. I hadn't been able to get a lot of sleep lately, and at work I found myself acting strangely.

"No, Rach, you're not." My coworker, Polly, said. She had overheard me because we were neighbours at work; our desks were right across from each other. She was the closest thing I had to a friend these days, though we never really saw each other outside of work. "You've been bonkers for years. This isn't a new development."

I would've bitten the head off of anyone else, if they were to say that. But Polly was different. She had known my boyfriend quite well from all the work events he attended with me, since I started working here two years ago. But once she heard what he did, she stood by me. She didn't make excuses or apologize for his actions... the first time she saw me after the incident the first words out of her mouth were:

"What a massive bag of douche. I hope his dick falls off and he dies in a fire."

I had to love that about Polly. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind. She had the fiery red hair to match her temper, that flowed down her back in a sleek wave. She was curvier than my fit physique, but it was in a sexy sort of way; I envied her body, it drove men crazy. But beneath all the fire and sex, she had a heart of gold. She was the kind of girl that made a friend and stuck with them. Reliable. Strong. Everything I wasn't at this moment.

"Thanks Polly," I replied, smiling. It was the first time I had smiled in a while. "I knew I could count on you for your insight."

"Glad to be of service," She said, in that sickly sweet voice we had to use with customers on the phone. Her tone reverted to her usual, "Really though, I'm playing. What's the matter? Are you still feeling bummed because of what that hack said?"

She was referring to the psychic. I had accidentally told her all about it a few days ago, after one too many happy hour drinks. For some reason, she wasn't condescending at all, she was very supportive. We were getting closer and closer these days. Soon I really could call her a friend.

"Eh, sort of." I said, rubbing my temples. A headache had set in, to top it all off. "Did you know that every time he sees me know, he books it in the other direction? The prick," Like he was ashamed of what he had done. Which he should be. "But it's my apartment! It's been very... off. I can't describe it."

I couldn't, I was telling the truth, unless I really wanted Polly to think of me as nuts. I wasn't about to alienate my one ally in this world at this moment.

The truth is, my apartment has been creeping me out. On top of the rotten feelings, strange things have been happening. Small items go missing, even if I'm extremely careful with them. Sometimes, if its quiet, I swear I hear footsteps. Not from above me or from next door... like in my living room, as I'm lying in bed trying to read. And once... once...

Once I swore I heard a growl.

Polly reached across her desk and patted my arm. I smiled back at her, in earnest this time. She was the one person I really wish I could open up to at this moment, but at the same time I knew that would mean I could ruin a potentially great friendship. So I kept my mouth shut.

She leaned forwards, putting her hand against her face to shield her mouth. "You could go home a little early if you want, I could cover for you." She smiled wide and winked.

I really didn't want to leave, but at the same time, what was the point of me being here? I was so exhausted, it was like my brain wasn't even functioning. After a moment's pause, I nodded. "I think I will."

"Just don't forget to have the presentation ready for Friday," Polly reminded me gently. I nodded again and scooped up the USB drive that had all our information on it, then put it in my pocket with my keys. I grabbed the rest of my things and glanced around, making sure that no one important was watching me. Then I slid out of my chair, waved to Polly and snuck out of the office.

God bless Polly.

+ + +

Transit home wasn't bad, because I had left work early and avoided the rush hour, and I arrived back rather quickly. The sun was shining, golden during this Autumn afternoon, and I was starting to feel pretty good again. Knowing I had the afternoon free lifted my spirits a little.

My spirits restored, I descended the steps to my apartment and opened my door. But the moment I stepped into my apartment, the crushing weight of despair just washed over me. Ugh, so much for my good mood...

What was with this place? Maybe it was all in my head, a placebo effect. It was making me feel rotten because I expected it to make me feel rotten. Mind over matter, I reminded myself. I tried to will the bad mood to lift, but to no avail. It hung around me, like a thick fog, and I was at its mercy and unable to budge it.

I just gave up and sighed, removing my coat and putting away my work things. I removed the contents of my pockets into a little decorative bowl near the door. I saw the little but important USB key, and wondered idly if I should leave it there. If this were to go missing like everything else, that would really suck...

Then I had a plan. A plan to prove to myself that I was just being crazy, and that it was just my head playing tricks on me.

I pulled out my laptop from my briefcase and put it on the counter, started it up and plugged in the USB key. I copied all of the files from it to my laptop, made copies, emailed them to myself and shut the laptop down again after ejecting the USB drive.

Then I got out a piece of paper from my printer, and drew a great big circle in red felt right in the middle. I placed the sheet of paper on the counter next to my laptop, and put the USB key in the center of the red circle I had drawn.

There. This would settle my mind. Now I would know exactly where I left it, and I couldn't accuse some unseen force of making off with my knick knacks, I scoffed to myself. This would prove that I'm just being crazy, need to settle down and keep better track of my things.

I left it at, and walked towards the bathroom, peeling off my work clothes, to get in a well deserved hot shower.

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It was gone.

And so was my laptop.

I had spent a good long while in my shower, enjoying the hot water. I hadn't heard anything while I was in there, and it wasn't like the shower was very loud. I had gotten out, and put on my comfortable lounging clothes -- an old pair of yoga pants and a flattering sweater -- and went back into the living room, drying my hair.

And when I got out there, that was when I noticed that they were gone.

The sheet of paper was still on the counter, undisturbed, obvious proof that I had left the items there. But they weren't. Not anymore.

I blinked stupidly at the empty spot where my possessions once sat. And then I ducked down, looking under the counter to see if they had somehow slid off. There was nothing there either.

I was frantic. I was glad I had emailed the files to myself, but I was horrified that my laptop had gone missing. How was I supposed to WORK if I didn't have that? And I didn't have the money to replace it... not to mention all the files saved on there... My thought processes were just a string of panicked profanities.

I tore my apartment apart. I looked in every possible crevice, every nook and cranny, and there was NOTHING. Not even dust bunnies.

Had someone come into my apartment while I was in the shower? Impossible. The door was so heavy that I would have heard it. Not to mention, the chain was on. And the windows were even more unlikely; if they opened at all, they had bars on them. This place was like a minor fortress.

So where the fuck did my stuff go?

I stomped back and forth across my living room, muttering to myself, throwing my hands up in exasperation. Then I stopped, in the middle of the room and yelled. I was so sick of this unexplainable streak of bad luck.

"GIVE THEM BACK!" I screamed, to no one in particular. Maybe to the cosmos, for making my life hell.

Unfortunately, someone replied.

It was a horrible growl, almost like the shriek of a feral cat. It was terrible, terrifying and it filled my apartment. I froze in spot, trying to figure out where it was coming from. It seemed like it was coming from all around me.

It reached its pitch and stopped suddenly. Then my door slammed shut, making a noise like a gunshot and shaking everything in the room. I involuntarily leapt backwards, slamming my back to the wall. I stood there for a second, in shock, before tearing out of there, grabbing anything within reach; my keys and cellphone.

I slammed my door behind me, not caring to lock it, and tore down the street. I just wanted to get away from that place as fast as I could.

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