Her

A Story by Miah

A night museum guard with troubles of his own believes that another is after his love.

“Night, Herb.” My breath creates a dancing white cloud in the frigid air.

The elderly man turns his head and his wrinkles burry deeper into his scarf, but I can still see his cheeks rising as the result of a smile.

“Good night, son.”

Quietly my loneliness turns to isolation as I slide the lock into its home and turn on the alarm. I walk from the back entrance to the staff lounge. I smile. The coffee maker is finishing up a pot while it acts as a kickstand for a note. ‘Enjoy! Stay warm, son.’ A sharp beep cuts into my thoughts about Herb to inform me that the coffee is ready. I wash my mug, dry it completely, and pour the dark liquid into it until it reaches a few centimeters from overflowing. One tablespoon of sugar, one teaspoon of milk, and a swirl of a spoon. Before reaching for the mug I bend over and take a sip. Grabbing my drink and a chair from beside a table, I walk my way to position.

Feeling the rhythm of my shoes tapping on the floor and hearing the echoes of emotion vibrating off of ancient brush strokes of the world surrounding me, I make my way to the elevator. Chair resting on one shoulder and coffee warming me in the other hand, I hit the up arrow with my elbow. The doors slide open immediately. Another reassurance that I am alone. After screeching to a stop at the second floor I take a sip of the sweet caffeine and step out.

One hundred and forty three steps later I reach my destination. I gracefully drop the cheap metal chair from the break room onto the floor. I sit.

“You look as beautiful as ever tonight, my love.”

Staring into her eyes as she stares back at me. I live for these nights. I live for her. I love her. Her eyes more infinite than space and so beautiful that you could swear you had traveled to Heaven just looking into them. God Himself could not have done a better job creating her.

“I haven’t been able to sleep very well lately. I can’t get you out of my head. I worry about you. What if something happens to you while I’m at home asleep? If I could you know I would never sleep. I would work every shift at this damn museum watching you, protecting you. But you know I can’t stand being around anyone but you and Herb. Poor guy looks like hell. Hope he gets better otherwise I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone here during the day.” I place my coffee on the floor next to me and stand up. Slowly I walk right in front of her. I stroke her pale cheek. The small mountains of paint remind my fingers that she is real. She is truly here in front of me in full brilliance.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you with all my worries. You’ll be okay as long as-“

The sound of footsteps interrupts our intimate moment.

“Who’s there?”

Silence.

More footsteps.

“GOD DAMN IT I SAID WHO’S THERE!”

Footsteps.

“Stay here, my love.” I put my hand on my holster.

I walk around the corner to the hall of stone men. White eyes watch me from every angle. “Herb, is that you?” No answer. Only the mockery of silence. Then footsteps.

“Stay away from us! Leave us alone!”

I begin to panic. I need to get back to her, but I can’t let this b*****d roam around stalking us. Setting my watch to go off in twenty minutes, I make a deal with myself that I will find this maniac before time is up.

I have one of two options. One, search for him by listening to the sound of his feet. Two, head for the security monitors. After weighing the pros and cons of each situation I decide to go with plan number one.

“And so begins the chase,” I whisper.

Steady steps clash with the cluster of my thoughts to create a song of panic. This orchestra of suspense builds within my chest creating an unbreathable atmosphere. Right foot. Left foot. Stop. Listen. Nothing. Right foot. Left foot. Stop. Listen. Nothing. Right foot. Left- a cough faintly in the distance off to my right. Following the wheezing breath, I begin forward and slightly to the right. In front of me lies a short hall, about thirty feet, housing four paintings, all colorful and abstract. Ignoring the bright colors and distracting shapes I make my way down the hall and take a sharp turn to the right.

I freeze. One foot stuck in the motion of being taken off the floor to relieve the other of its short duty. A silhouette of a man who looks to be the result of malnutrition or anorexia. He is absurdly skinny and not very tall either with a crown of disheveled golden hair. Thankfully he hasn’t heard or seen me; instead he is fixated on a piece of brushwork hung upon the white wall. The painting is that of a woman looking out her window towards the direction of the man standing in front of me.

Suddenly, “She’s pretty, but not quite beautiful.”

He spoke. A soft lull of a voice that could be mistaken for one belonging to a child who speaks to a fragile critter. As quickly as he had finished his sentence, he started walking. As he walked away from the painting I realized a few things. His face is as angelic as the golden hair is a halo. No woman could resist him, not even my woman. That’s just it. I must stop this living masterpiece of man before my darling falls for him. She cannot see him and he cannot see her, for if it is, it will never be undone and their love would be more eternal than our own. He even said so himself. He is looking for a beautiful woman. And who more beautiful than my woman? He must be stopped.

After my moment of long thought I decided it was time to act. However, I do not have time to think of a plan and I can’t loose him from my line of sight. So, I run. Faster than I could ever think possible for my body to move. Hearing the pounding of my soles, the angel turns, but before he can process anything I jump onto him. His fragile bones crack under me.

“STAY AWAY FROM HER! SHE’S MINE!” I shout.

He shoves his pointer and middle finger into my eyes. I want nothing more than to fight back, but the pain is unbearable and my body rolls off of his onto the floor. Lying face up, hands covering my eyes, I am vulnerable. Although weak, he now has the upper hand, and he stabs some sharp into my neck. He speaks, but my blood curdling screeches make it hard to comprehend what he is saying. Adding to the chaos my watch begins to shrill to remind me twenty minutes have gone by. The longest twenty minutes of my life. The worst twenty minutes of my life. Those twenty minutes that end now. Slowly the concept of time escapes me and I slip away into a deep unconscious shock.

I wake to the sound ‘Mister Ed’ reruns. It must be the next morning because reruns are only ever on on Sundays. I look around and notice the bleak off-white room with a foul stench. That and the tag on my itchy blanket tell me I’m at the local hospital, Saint Dymphna. After an episode and a half, a curvy nurse walks in pushing back her wavy red hair while looking over a clipboard. Once she arrives at my bedside she notices I’m awake and begins to explain that I should be able to be discharged by late afternoon. Turns out he did more than just stun me when he poked my eyes; he broke my nose as well. Luckily he missed any veins when he stabbed my neck. After a brief check of my vitals the nurse sends in a police officer.

The man is the epitome of a sitcom cop. His large belly, graying mustache, and Dunkin Donuts coffee held in one hand make me want to laugh, but I contain myself. My love probably would scold me for laughing at a time like this.

“Hey, son.” He bellows in a thick voice.

“Don’t call me son.” My light mood quickly dissipates. “Only Herb can call me son. You’re not Herb. You’re Officer Jason Frak. Don’t call me son.”

“How did you- oh my name tag- right. Well, Herb, he seems to be a good souled man. Only had great things to say about you. He was surprised you’d done what you did. Frankly I am too. No motives seem to be present. I mean damn you’ve been working with Thomas for 10 years. He said he’s never felt any tension "“

“Thomas? I don’t know any Thomas. I work the night shift alone. That- that man, he just appeared in the museum and tried to take her from me. HE TRIED TO TAKE HER FROM ME!” My anger began to fester. Who the hell is Thomas? Some stupid low life who used his beauty to try and stand between her and I! “I’M THE VICTEM! NOT HIM! HE’S GUILTY! HE’S GUILTY!” I can feel small fires ignite on each of my cheeks.

“What is he guilty of exactly? Looks to me like it was all self defense what he did to you. Poor guy said that was the first time you ever approached him in ten years.” Mumbling to himself he said, “humph, talk about a problematic coworker…and I thought Bill was bad…” followed by a laugh that sounded like a sharp breath of air out of his nose.

My confusion translated into rage quicker than I expected.

“ASK HERB! I BET HE’S NEVER SEEN HIM!”

“He has,” was all.

“I REFUSE TO BE ACCUSED OF THIS! I DID NOTHING! SHE’S MINE! HE TRIED TO TAKE HER, BUT SHE’S MINE!”

Without hesitation I allow my anger to consume my body as I throw myself at the fat officer. Before I can make much damage on anything other than the large stomach of Frak, he draws his taser from his belt. The shock that radiates through my body minds me of the paralyzing love that consumes me for a woman I may never see again. My head slams onto the cold floor.

Frak speaks softly above me. Just then I notice a second pair of feet. Following the shoes upward I notice the long white medical coat and deduce the doctor is watching me as well. Their conversation sounds like faint whispers in the distance even though they stand directly above me. The electricity has created a distance too big between the outside world and the world inside my head. Luckily I can grasp onto pieces of their dialogue.

“-Thomas is in critical care for now, but-“ A new voice, the doctor.

“-Records show that he’s been on medications for delirium.” Frak.

“-Well that seems to be clear now. I’m sending him to a mental institution-“

His voice echoed in my hospital room. It vibrated through the large officer’s rolls of fat on his stomach. Those words bounced around inside my head. Too soon they carry me from that hospital. Too soon they drag me from the museum and from my love. From my life they pulled me and threw me into a padded room. Never again to see her infinite eyes that will lead me to Heaven. Today, I stand at the gates of Hell.