Spotlight
Title: The Hider
Author: Chrissy
Rating: PG-13
Category: Eminem fanfiction
Pairing: Em/OC
Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only. It is completely fictitious, and the author means no harm to Marshall Mathers, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a “real life” character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words – it’s just a story I/we wrote for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.
The Hider
He clenched his fists, straining the thin line between his skin and nails. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the pounding bass.
“Block me out as much as you want but-”
He dropped his head on the table-top muttering a string of no’s.
“Listen to me.”
He started banging his forehead against the table, not real, not real, not real…
“Don’t you think you have enough brain damage to kill eight rabbits?”
“Fuck you.” He heard a high pitch laugh echoing throughout his head.
“You’re too easy, Marshall.”
“I’m gonna take a slow breath and count to five, when I’m done, you’ll be gone” he inhaled deeply, holding it for a second, exhaling slowly.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Five.”
He opened his eyes, blinking at the table’s surface. He stood stone still, waiting for any sign of the sharp voice. He tilted his head to the side, squinting his eyes, it had already been a few minutes but he was still wary. It couldn’t be that easy.
…
He wrapped the thick white towel around his hips, running a hand along his damp hair as he looked up at the mirror. The reflection of his face was blurry on the steamy reflector. He swiped some of the condensation off the glass, getting the clear view that he wanted. On the last quick swipe he felt a thin object graze his hand; he felt the long slice before he reacted.
“Fuck!” he backed away from the mirror, looking down at his hand to confirm the cut. The line ran across his palm, a thin layer of blood rising up to fill the fresh wound, threatening to spill over. He grabbed a towel off the rack, quickly wrapping it around his hand. He glanced over at the mirror, searching for the sharp object. Nothing.
“Boo!”
“Noooo”
“Yessss.”
“I thought I got rid of you.” A round of amused chuckles bounced around in his head.
“You can’t get rid of me.”
“You’re not real” he sat down on the bath tub’s edge.
“Oh yes, I am.”
“No, you are not” he shut his eyes tight, hoping to block out his thoughts.
“Stop denying me.”
“You’re just a figment of my crazy imagination”
“You’re making me very angry.”
“Go away!” A small snap was heard; he opened his eyes at the noise. A sharp ragged line had made its way from the top to the middle, making his reflection look deformed.
“Remove the towel from your hand.”
He swallowed his fear “No”.
“Do as I say.”
“No!” It happened in a flash. A resounding string of loud bangs ricocheted around the room. An invisible force was being smashed into the mirror. Small round cracks were being formed on the fragile piece in a pattern, like someone was punching it furiously.
*smash*
“I don’t like him, Mommy”
*smash*
“Why do you yell at me, Mommy?”
*smash*
“Mommy, stop it!”
*smash*
“It hurts!”
*smash*
“STOP IT!”
*smash*
“MOMMY!”
“Alright!” he shuddered, his hands shaking as he opened the white towel and began to unwrap the cloth from around his throbbing hand, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud.
“That’s a good boy; now I want you to look, stare real hard at it.”
He looked at the horizontal cut, swallowing hard as he watched the blood rise up once again.
“Now touch it.”
“But-“
“Touch the wound, Marshall.”
He decided not to test its patience again, especially after the loud and upsetting episode it put him through. He placed his thumb over the open line, hesitating.
“Now, press down.”
He pressed the tip of his thumb onto the cut, putting the slightest bit of pressure on it. A hiss escaped from his lips as bare skin met raw flesh.
“Do you feel that?”
“Did I hiss?”
“Is this really the right moment to be a smart ass?”
He closed his mouth, a grim line forming on his mouth as he looked up at his cracked reflection. He ultimately found his voice as he gazed at the splintered mirror; glaring miniature reflections of him on every little piece “what do you want from me?”
“Answer my question.”
“Yes, it fucking hurts, a lot” he spat out.
“A simple yes would have done just fine, but I’m not surprised with your rude answer.”
“Fuck off” he growled.
“Do you still deny me?”
He closed his eyes, straining his eye lids to keep them tightly shut.
“I’m real.”
He took a deep breath, tilting his head back as he let out a loud exhale.
“I’m as real as the sting from the slit in your palm.”
He rubbed at his face with the palm of his unmarred hand.
“As real as the blood running in your veins.”
He frowned, dropping his head forward, rubbing vigorously at his eye.
“As real as the heart in your chest, pumping for dear life.”
“You’re not real.”
“As real as the mirror I smashed with my bare fists.”
“No.”
“Tell me, Marshall, how’s the temporary slut you have waiting downstairs?”
“Shut up.”
“Do you think she really loves you?”
“You know nothing!” He roared at thin air. A high pitched giggle echoed in his head; never-ending.
The razor-sharp voice wrapped itself around him in a taunting whisper “That’s where you’re wrong.”
He was breathing heavily through his nose, with his hands covering his ears. The giggling faded away as a muffled voice came through from behind the locked door, tiny fists trying their hardest to get his attention.
“Hey! Marshall! What’s the hold up; it’s already been an hour and a half” there was a slight pause on the other side “are you okay?”
He opened his eyes, letting his hands fall from his face, and standing up to inspect the mirror. It was no longer splintered in manifold, but it did have a jarring little crack on one of its corners. His eyes widened, quickly looking down at his hand for the cut. A small thin red line was very evident on the middle of his palm.
“Yeah, I’ll- uh, be out in a second, okay?” he ducked down to look through the cupboards for the first aid kit. He rummaged from side to side not seeing the kit at first, he finally realized it had already been in his view.
As he wrapped the thin gauze around his hand, he felt the softest tingle run over his spine, making him flinch as his nerves tensed and locked at the unfamiliar intrusion.
The voice was an airy whisper against his cheek “I’ll especially be watching over you, tonight”.
“Leave me alone” he said through locked teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Never” the presence in the room became lighter, easing the heavy weight -he hadn’t realised had been there in the first place- from off his chest and shoulders. He loosened up on his deadly grip, letting his taut nerves settle down.
Never, what had it –correction; she, that was definitely a girlish giggle- meant by watching over him, tonight? Like it was a choice. Who else did she watch over?
He frowned at the white cloth covering his palm; a red stain had already fashioned into a thin line on the material. It was all in his head, wasn’t it?
…
“I already told you, it was like the mirror…” his sentence fell short as a bright light flashed in the corner of his eye, he glanced over at the rear-view mirror; no sign of any car that might be trailing behind him. The road was dead. He shook his head, turning his gaze back to the road. A sudden panic washed over him as he gripped the steering wheel, slamming his foot down on the break paddle. The car came to a screeching halt, almost swerving off path.
A bright silhouette was shimmering against the dark background of the night. The girl walked off from the current position she held on the side of the car’s lane. She dragged her feet along the rough tar, a curtain of curly wheat colored hair covering her downturned face. A delicate silver night gown clung to her petite frame. She made a sharp turn, coming to a complete halt when she reached the middle of the lane.
She lifted her head slightly; a flicker of warm honey caught his attention. Her eyes flashed with mischief, a small sinister smile forming slowly over her lips. She held his eyes to hers, ensnaring them in a trance. The moment was broken when she held a single finger up to her lips, turning her gaze to the seat beside him.
She glared at the passenger, as if the unsuspecting woman had just intruded on her conversation with him. She cocked her head to the right, shutting her left eye as she shifted her shoulders. She raised her arms slowly; he noticed her hands locked together, index fingers pointed out at the woman through the dark tinted window. Thumbs were bent as far back as they could be, she had a look of pure concentration on her face.
*bang, bang*
His neck snapped to the right, eyes enlarging, and mouth dropping open at the site before him. There was a large hole in her chest, with an equally profound puncture in the middle of her forehead. Her eyes where glazed over, a pale milky white.
He turned his head back to her “what the fuck!?” he yelled out at the shaking pale figure through the thick glass. Her head had tilted back in what looked to be a deep cheerful laughter.
“You crazy fucking bitch, you just killed an innocent person and all you can do is laugh?” he was in awe of the audacity she held.
Her smile dropped at his little speech, a sneer was playing on the corner of her lip. “Call me a bitch again and I’ll make sure those bullet holes I put in her heart and head become real. Try explaining that to the powers that be”.
He glowered at the luminous figure, cursing at her viciously in his head.
“Besides, is she really dead?” Her eyes widened, an amused smirk lifting at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes shifted to the right of him again, looking the woman up and down with a strong aversion. A muttered whisper of “innocent my ass” was deaf to everyone but her.
He turned to look at Tonya, who in turn was glancing at him “you okay there, hon?”
He blinked, looking out the front window again. It was complete darkness apart from the cars night lights, she had disappeared.
…
He watched as Tonya closed her front door. His forehead immediately finding the top of the steering wheel. That little stunt he pulled earlier, stopping the car like there might have been a deer in the way, earned him weary glances throughout the entire night.
“Aw, why the long face champ?” Her voice held a light airy tone “you know, with a face as pretty as yours; glum just never suits” the words came out of her, sounding so sure of herself, as if they were pure fact. Her voice was so cheery that he hadn’t noticed the hidden insult she had ensued.
“You made me look like a complete fool” he turned his head, still leaning against the steering wheel, to get a good look at her. She was watching him with a frighteningly amused smile on her face, smooth honey eyes shimmering with wicked humor.
“Oh, don’t worry, you don’t need me to be of any assistance when it comes to that” that earned her a low growl “relax, no need to get so testy, I was just having a bit of fun”.
His eyebrows furrowed at her last statement. He lifted his head from off the wheel, turning his entire body -as much as he was allowed- to face her “funny? That was funny!? Am I missing something here, what part of that was funny?”
She drew out a loud dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes “a bit dramatic, dontcha think?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Yeah, and if you had chosen to you would have-” she cut him off with a sharp tone.
“Killed her? Maimed her? Given her a slow and painful death?” Her eyes flashed with unabashed mischief, her mouth twisting into a dissatisfying scowl “but I didn’t, I left the little bitch alone”.
His wintry eyes automatically glared at the disgusted tone in her last remark “well, if it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black” her eyes burned with an unsettling fury, her tiny fists clenched into balls against her arms.
She closed her eyes, tightening them to a painful degree, taking in silent calming breaths. She turned herself around, bringing her knees up and along with her, facing the car door.
“Hey!” he almost reached out to turn her around, but shook his head when he realised that he couldn’t “look me in the eye when you talk to me” his voice held a low scolding tone.
She huffed “I hardly think you deserve that much, especially when you’re treating me as if I’m some petulant evil little child”
“Well if you weren’t acting like one…” The irony of her statement weighed heavily. She was far from a child with that kind of vocabulary and from what he’s learned in the past thirty years of life, children did not have breasts or hips of that calibre but her little huff at the beginning didn’t help the word petulant. She has also proven herself the very definition of evil with everything she had done tonight, of course the fact that she could do much worse wasn’t lost on him.
She turned around, gazing at him in amused wonder “and it seems you have forgotten who you’re talking to” her light eyes stared openly at him, a slow fire burning in them, challenging him to say something smart.
His sucked his lips inward, shifting his eyes away from her gaze. You’re arguing with a fucking ghost, get your shit together.
She smirked at that thought “I’m not a ghost”.
His eyes widened at that “wait, what the-” she cut him off.
She raised a pale eyebrow, holding her amused smirk “so, you adore my tits then, yeah?”
He avoided the urge to smile “that thought wasn’t supposed to come off like that”.
“Speaking of coming off as something,” she glanced at the little red brick house, sitting quite odd in the middle of five other smooth looking white houses “you may want to move your car out of this parking space. Now“.
“Shit” he cursed under his breath as he shifted the gear quickly, moving the car from it’s current position and u-turning onto a main lane.
“Don’t want to come off as anything but a fuck, right?” Her voice was mocking.
“Fuck you” he avoided glancing at her, knowing that a condescending look would be on her face.
She was frowning “remember what happened the last time you gave a girl hope”.
“Fuck. Off” aggravation flared up in him like a fire, heating his skin at a low burn.
She laid her head down on her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs, hugging them to her chest “she was perfect too” she sighed wistfully, glancing out the front window with a faraway look in her eyes “that poor girl, she never stood a chance”.
“You don’t know” he gripped the steering wheel, frowning at the empty road ahead of him.
“Quite the contrary my daft man” a small knowing smile was playing at the corner of her lips.
He glanced at her, cursing when he caught a glimpse of her smile “even when you’re not trying to be evil, you scare me”.
Her smile grew into a wicked grin, then she stopped, as still as a statue. Her grin dropped along with her eyes. She buried her face into her knees “goodbye”.
“What?” He quickly glanced over at the seat next to him; empty.
She had disappeared for the last time.
#
posted on shadyfiction.com October 28, 2011
