"To Never Be" - Nicene

       The beating came louder this time, changing in volume over the past half hour. The metallic clashing of her fist on the storm door was all I could hear now. Maybe I should let her in, it’s not as if I can hide from her. You see, this girl is special, she knows things that she has no logical reason to know. Most of those who know what she is call her a “clairvoy”, but any with common sense stay as far away from her as possible. I have the mixed fortune of being her latest project, another person she wants desperately to save. It’s hard for her, feeling the emotions of others, trying not to be overtaken by our pain, rage, and hate. I think that is why she is here tonight, to help me get through the pain I have been holding on to for so long, to help silence one of the screaming voices in her head.

       “I know you’re in there! Damn it Tobias, open the door!” She yelled, as she had been off and on tonight.

       “Fine!” I finally yelled back, getting up from my seat on the floor in order to walk to the locked entry way.

       I walked towards the noise, turning the metal dead bolt back into its unlocked position. Opening the large wooden door, I glared down at her through the still locked storm door.

       “About time! You know I have been here for nearly an hour!” She complained.

       “Half an hour,” I shot back, “and besides, no one asked you to come here.”

       “Fine then, I’ll just leave!” She quipped back while making some bitter face and sticking out her tongue.

       “Okay.” I remarked back, before closing the large wooden door.

       “Hey! Stop it!” She yelled. “Come back out, damn it!”

       “Well, what can I do to help you?” I asked sarcastically, reopening the door.

       “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I’m here to help you, silly.” She stopped for a moment, trying to read my expression I assume, and then continued, “You need to get out, hiding away from the world isn’t good for anyone.” She paused, looking in my eyes, waiting for some sort of reaction from me, then continued, “Come on, I know this little restaurant downtown. We can get something to eat, and decide what to do from there.”

       “Do I have a choice in the matter?”

       “Not if you want to keep those pretty little eyes of yours. Now open this door!”

       I unlocked the metal door, and before I could turn the handle, she had pulled it open and was grabbing for my wrists.

       “Calm down a second, can’t I at least get my coat?”

       “You mean you actually get cold?” She said, trying not to laugh out loud.

       I slipped on the covering, and made my way to my desk. “Let me get my keys, and we shall be off.”

       “Ok, but I’m driving...” she trailed off, lowering her head, as if gathering the strength to continue. “I hate the way you drive, always in such a hurry. It scares me sometimes.”

       “It’s called defensive driving.”

       “No,” she replied, “the way you drive is called, genocidal.”

       “Well, I’m ready. Are we going?”

       “You aren’t going to regret this!” She cheerfully promised, pulling me through the door.

       “Oh, I can already tell.” Was all I managed to reply.