Chapter 27
It was Samantha's first day back to school since her illness, and she was well on her way to a complete recovery. After showering and dressing, she hurried downstairs to the kitchen. After days of heavy sleep and nightmares, Samantha wanted to be certain that she could be up in time for school. Reaching the kitchen, she made a light breakfast – cereal, toast, and orange juice. Ordinarily, she might scramble a couple of eggs, but with returning to school, Samantha felt pressed for time. She stood leaning against the edge of the kitchen counter, and as the bread browned in the toaster she noticed her phone next to the dish drainer. Her mother had withheld it for a few days when her sleep become plagued with terrifying images, as though she had been photographed by unseen hands. Picking it up, she turned it on and logged in. Samantha wanted to check her messages and texts, but after logging in, the main screen suddenly disappeared. What had taken its place left Samantha in a state of panic, and dropping her phone to the floor, let out a scream, followed by hysterical crying.
The phone's screen had shattered, with small bits of glass strewn across the floor. In her continued hysteria, Samantha sunk to a sitting position, and brought her hands up to her face. Glancing down at her phone, the image still shown through the heavily fractured screen, prompting her to kick it across the kitchen floor. In a protective reaction, Samantha quickly crawled to the nearest corner, curled up in the fetal position and froze with tears continuing to stream down her face. Keeping her hands over her eyes, she tried to hide from the horror that seemed to reach out to her with a destructive, unseen hand. Like the previous images, this one also showed her in the same position, photographed at night beneath the covers of her bed. But this one was dramatically different. Her withered, staring eyes were exposed as her flesh, green and putrefied, had slid from its underlying tissue. The pillow, sheets and mattress were soaked with the fluids of decomposition, leaving her body an unrecognizable mass of rotting decay. Again, she glanced over at the remains of her phone as it turned itself off, the image flickering to black. Gathering her courage, Samantha crawled on hands and knees and cautiously picking up her phone, pushed its power button, bringing it back to life. In spite of her reaction, she wanted to see the picture again with a need to know if she was losing her mind, or if it was simply a cruel trick, played on her by the stress of the last few days of sickness.
Touching her finger to the shattered screen, Samantha paged through the pictures on her phone. Unsurprisingly, the portrait of her rotting corpse was missing, leaving Samantha to wonder if she had really seen it at all. Letting it fall back to the floor, she backed her way to the cabinets, below the sink. Pulling her knees up, she wrapped her arms around her legs and began rocking back and forth, while her make-up ran with continued tears. At a loss for what to do, Samantha considered calling her mother at work, but the only thing she would do is take her to the hospital and the last thing she wanted was to spend even a minute on a psychiatric ward. She pulled herself together enough to decide against telling her mother about this most recent episode, not wanting her to worry. Aside from this, she needed to get back to school, wanting to resume her life.
Picking up her phone, she slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. Grabbing a broom and dust pan, she also swept the broken glass from the floor. When her mother bought it, she also purchased a warranty. The screen could, therefore, be replaced without any extra charges, and Samantha would simply tell her she had dropped it, avoiding the details of the incident. Eventually, she managed to pull herself together enough to leave the house, although Samantha was heavily shaken by the image that was now burned into her brain, she found a small measure of comfort in going outdoors, feeling the cool Autumn breeze against her face. It was the first time she'd been outside in days, and being confined by illness, she had become a bit sensitive to light. Stepping out into the open, Samantha squinted her eyes in the morning sun but they soon adjusted as she began her walk to school.
As she made her way through Norway's business district, Samantha heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Hey, Sam!”
Turning around, she saw Henry running up behind her. As much as he was happy to see her, he had suddenly become concerned about seeing a vague expression of stress on her face.
“Hey, Henry,” she replied.
Her mind was greatly preoccupied, and her voice was flat and unemotional.
“How's it going?”
She continued walking as Henry caught up.
“You okay?” he asked. “Are you still sick? You look kinda' stressed.”
Failing to make eye contact, Samantha's tone also reflected a degree of frustration.
“No! I'm not sick!”
Hearing the sound of her voice, and seeing the look on her face, Henry's concern grew, not yet knowing about the ghastly images that had been appearing on her phone.
“Um, Sam, is everything okay?” he asked.
Samantha stopped and brought both hands to her forehead.
“I'm sorry,” she began. “It’s been a weird couple of days.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Henry asked.
Samantha paused to gather her thoughts and contain her frustration.
“Well,” she replied. “I can't really talk to my mom about it. She'll fuckin' have me locked up.”
Henry's concern deepened as his curiosity peaked.
“This sounds kinda' serious,” he said.
Samantha continued on her way to school as Henry was, again, forced to keep up.
“So, what's going on?” he asked.
Samantha slowed her pace as she raised a slightly trembling hand.
“Henry, can we talk about it later?”
Henry had never seen her this stressed, but when she was ready, he would give her his undivided attention.