Free Hysteria by Megan Miranda

feeling contracted into the space behind
     me. A wave of chills started at my scalp and slid down my arms, my spine, my legs.
    My senses went on high alert — like I could see more clearly and hear more sharply — and I smelled something off, not quite right. Something chemical. I stepped closer
     to the door, bent down, and dipped my fingers in the puddle on the floor. Cold. Nothing
     like blood. I brought my red fingers to my face and breathed in through my nose. Paint.
     This was paint.
    There were voices in the distance — girls laughing and a guy talking too loud — probably on their way back. I ran to the bathroom, and as I pushed the door open,
     I got this flash in my mind. Red handprints. Everywhere.
    But I squeezed my eyes shut and thought No.
    I brought wet paper towels back to my room and saturated my door. I squeezed and squeezed
     until the puddle at my feet was thin and the paint streaked unevenly through the water.
     Then I wiped it all up and buried the evidence in the bottom of the trash in the restroom.
     I couldn’t see the red anymore, but there was still this dark spot. A water mark.
     A reminder. So I got more paper towels and started scrubbing harder.
    And the whole time, I felt that presence pressed up against my back, and I could imagine
     his mouth, breathing against my neck through his teeth.
    Like I could feel him smiling.

    I didn’t meet Brian that day on the boardwalk. We’d almost met. He smiled and stepped
     toward me, and I was wondering what to say. Sorry I was staring, I thought you were someone else? Sorry I’m still staring? I’m
     not sorry I’m staring because I still can’t look away?
    I tried to pull myself together because he was heading straight for me. Then this
     guy on a skateboard crashed into him. Came out of nowhere, music so loud I could hear
     it from his earbuds through the crowd. Brian stumbled backward and the skateboard
     slid out from under the other guy.
    And then Brian yanked the earbuds out of the guy’s ears and punched him in the face.
    Just like that.
    And, just like that, a circle formed around them as the skateboard guy, twice Brian’s
     width, took a swing back at him. Brian ducked, smiled, and attacked. And then there
     were fists flying and blood spurting and people yelling, and I still couldn’t look
     away.
    Until two cops came and pulled them apart and started leading them down the boardwalk.
     But Brian turned and scanned the crowd for me and he smiled. After all that, he was
     still looking for me. He yelled out, “Meet me here tomorrow,” like he was so sure
     this whole cop thing was no big deal. Like it happened all the time.
    And like I should know what time he meant.
    So that next day, even though I told myself I wasn’t looking for him, I showed up
     early, before lunch. Just in case. And that’s when I fell for him. Because he was
     already there too. He had a cut over his right eye, and there was a dark bruise underneath
     it, but he was there. Waiting for me.
    Like he was still here now. Waiting. And smiling.

    I heard voices in the lobby. The slow, monotone authority of Krista’s voice. And the
     rise and fall of Bree’s words coming straight from her brain out her mouth. I slipped
     into my room and shut the door behind me.
    “Is it weird, though? Since he’s your cousin?”
    A pause. “Not at all,” she said. The words were clipped, pronounced perfectly. Almost
     rehearsed.
    “Because you could tell me, you know. If it gets weird, I mean. Or if it’s weird for
     me to talk about him.”
    “Jesus,” she said. “He asked you to hang out after class, not have his babies.”
    “Ha,” Bree said. “It does bother you.”
    “Bree,” Krista said, in this way that suddenly made me understand what it meant to
     speak carefully. “I doubt anything you do will bother me.”
    Bree laughed and started talking faster, like she was excited, but the way Krista
     said it didn’t make it sound like a good thing. It sounded