I snapped my fingers and gave her a small smile. She didn’t notice. Her eyes were focused on something, or nothing, behind me. I turned around. No one was there.

“What’s wrong? You look....”

She started to cry.

“...sad?” I tried again.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Well, that’s surprising.”

She looked at me, hurt. “I really don’t. I just have this feeling.”

I’m not sure how to deal with that. “How do you feel?”

She nodded. Good.

“Worse than anything.”

Oh ok. So, still no idea then. I’ll just leave it.

She stood up, clutching her favourite book. “I need to go.”

“What? Now?” I can’t go now. I need her. We’re making dinner at her place. Don’t you remember?

She nodded. “I’m sorry, I do.”

But you’re going anyway? “Why?”

She laughed, “This is the worst I’ve ever felt.”

I breathed out heavily. “Ok.”

“I’ll be back later.”

I shook my head. “Of course you will.”

She glanced at me again, as if she was about to say something. She looked down instead “Bye,” she called.

I sighed again. “Bye …. ”

I wasn’t sure what to think about this weird behaviour. Part of me knew she wasn’t doing this on purpose. She hadn’t meant to hurt me. But she had.

I thought back to the last time I saw her. That had been the worst I had felt. Ever. I could barely stand. I had to be carried back home. I passed out. When I woke up, she was there, by my side. She had been there all this time, but I don’t remember her. She turned up in the middle of the worst day of my life. The only day I can’t remember.

I stared at a spot on the carpet, trying to figure out the pattern. I found a green leaf that looked sort of like the top part of a heart. I’d never paid much attention to the carpet before.

She’d never have to know. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had forgotten something. Oh, how she would thank me. How she would praise me.

She would love me again.

I wondered if she knew. Maybe she did. Maybe she knew I couldn’t feel anything. Maybe that’s why she left. I should tell her. But if I told her now, she would never love me.

I wondered, if she knew, how she might react. I pictured her with tears in her eyes. I pictured her being scared of me. I pictured her leaving me forever.

I imagined her actions at the moment. I imagined what she was doing right now. My thoughts were all jumbled, but I saw a woman with a knife. I pictured my sister.

I wiped the tears from my eyes - they’d cloud my vision. I needed to pay attention. I tried to focus on the carpet again. The leaves were gone.

I realised that my eyes were closed. I started, sitting up. I stared at the carpet for a long time. I was thinking of the best thing to do. She was in danger, and I didn’t care. Maybe her wellbeing wasn’t as important to me as I had thought. But she would still be my sister.

I thought about her being in danger. That I cared about. It doesn’t seem fair that I can’t remember what really happened.

I lay back down. I felt something under my head. It was lumpy. I picked it up, and held it in my hand. I opened my eyes, blinking. It was a pebble. I remembered. She had given it to me the day the badness started. It was the first thing I could remember for a long time. I felt myself smile. I stood, slipping the pebble into my pocket. I could help her now. I knew where she’d been, and I knew where she was now.

I felt a sense of purpose, and I leant against the wall. I might as well have a sit down. This day was getting better. I thought again of the knife, and pictured her safety.

I watched the door as I got closer to my sister’s flat. I had never seen it before. I kept looking for red flags - maybe there was someone waiting for me. Maybe there was a bomb. Maybe I would not find her. I would not be able to stop people from bad things from happening. Maybe no one would stop me. I felt a knot build in my stomach.

I stood outside her front door. There was a knocker. I picked it up. It was heavy. It hit the door with a light thud. I waited, listening. There was no movement inside. I breathed out. I knew I was right, and that this was the right thing to do.

I knocked again, this time, louder.

No movement.

I tried not to panic. Why hadn’t she answered?

She might have gone out somewhere - her flat had two doors, on the front and one at the back. I knew it was summer, but this was ridiculous. One more time, I thought.

I knocked the door and waited, listening again. No sound came from inside. I thought quickly. I knew I had to go. I had to find her. I wasn’t sure how long I had before I lost her - it could have been minutes ago, what if she was already dead? I didn’t want to think about that. I wanted to think about the next few minutes. I had to go.

I held back a strong urge to kick the door in. I knew there was a small panel on the side, I just needed to get to it. I looked around. I could see an alley just past the house, a path to the back I had walked along before. I would get there faster. I ran.

I crawled into the back garden, moving away from the house. I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing me. I tried to control my breathing. I tried to control my panic. I hadn’t been here before; I was relying on memory and instinct. I was sure I was right, I just wasn’t sure yet. I climbed through lumps of wood and bricks.

The old hatch still needed a kick. I climbed down into the house, moving toward the hallway. I stopped.

There was a small lamp near the door. It was on. This meant she was here. I could reach her. She was in danger. I felt my feet moving slowly toward the door, had I gone mad? I realized what was happening - I was scared, terrified. This was my world now, scary and confusing. No longer was I the man I had once been, no longer was I on top, no longer did I have a handle of everything that was going to happen. I couldn’t plan, I couldn’t be calm, I wasn ’t - I was terrified. And, combined with this terror, was an irritable fear of the woman on the other side of the door.

I reached the door. My hand reached out for the handle instinctively, almost without me knowing it. I had to reach out. I had to get her. I needed to find her. I needed to make sure she was ok. I found the handle.

It was unlocked.

I heard a scream. An inhuman scream. This wasn’t my wife. This wasn’t the woman I knew.

Everything went quiet.

I opened the door.

I almost threw up. I stood still, dumbstruck.

There was no immediate danger - from where I could see into the dark passageway.