Chapter 2: Blast From The Past

Eileen Galvin could remember the day Henry Townshend had first stopped leaving his apartment. Having lived right across the hall from him, she was the first person to realize something was wrong and called the superintendent. After the events that horrible place took them to... the woman had grown concerned when Frank had told her he was locking himself away 'again'. 

 

She had long since moved back to North Ashfield, leaving the horrors of Walter's mind in the past where they should be. But, like Henry himself knew, some things don't leave even when you no longer see them. Just thinking about what they had gone through was enough to feel like it was still happening. She brought herself to face her fears, however, for the sake of the man who managed to save her life.

 

The woman raised her hand, knocking firmly on the door of room 302. Her idle yet determined gaze wandered to her own old room, staring at the door marked '303' on its gold-plated plaque. She wondered if anyone else had moved in or if it, like many other things of the past, continued to haunt people with its filled loud emptiness.

The hell...?

 

Henry's body tensed as he slowly made his way towards the door again. He had no idea why his apartment was suddenly a popular tourist destination, but it was starting to unnerve him. The dreams... The visitors... 

 

The shaggy haired man peered through the peep-hole in his door, letting out a sigh of relief when noticing it was just Eileen. However, the peace was short-lived. She wasn't supposed to come back here. Seeing her face in that hallway was... almost as if they were both tempting fate to finish what it started.

 

But, in all honesty, the woman was one of the few people who were able to get more than just a courteous greeting- or a few spare words- out of Henry. For whatever reason, he liked her more than other people. Maybe it was a comfort thing- or perhaps, trauma bonding. Who knows? It wasn't as if either of them would be seeing a therapist anytime soon.

 

"Eileen...? What are you doing here?" He asked, opening his now unlocked door and stepping into the hallway.

 

The woman shifted her weight, pulling down the skirt on her hips anxiously. Her arms crossed and uncrossed, bearing the weight of a thousand lifetimes where there should only be bracelets and handbags. Her choppy bangs moved across her forehead in the air created by her nervous swaying. "I...heard you've been isolating yourself again. I got worried, I thought you might have been... you know… Attacked or chained up or something. Or that he came back."

 

Henry shifted just as awkwardly, clumsily putting a hand on the woman's shoulder in some weird attempt to comfort her. For a while, he said nothing. The silence of the third-level hallway consumed the two of them directly outside his door.

 

 He had kept it open, keeping a foot inside the door frame for an easy-to-access escape route. As much as he hated the apartment, he hid himself away with great ease within its drab and dreary walls. Henry removed his hand from her, pinning his arms down to his sides.

 

"I just haven't been in the mood to see anyone lately, that's all." The brunette lied, green eyes holding her own nervous gaze. He knew Eileen picked up on energy. As tense and unnerved as he was, Henry wouldn't let himself add fuel to her own emotional fire. "I'm sorry to have scared you."

 

"You know-" She started, inhaling during the long pause in which she gathered her thoughts, staring at him with a pondering gaze. "I don't see how you do it, Henry. You always seem so brave and untouched. I don't think you were bothered a single time in that place. I still can't even bring myself to walk past any hospitals and yet, here you are, living in the same room that started it all without breaking a sweat. How do you do it?"

 

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Henry stared at her for a solid three minutes, not even sure how to go about answering it. If he was being honest, half of the information never even made it to his eardrums, much less his brain for processing. 

 

The dark haired man listened to the clicking sound of the clock in his apartment, following its back and forth noise with a pointer in his mind. He really didn’t want to be talking about this sort of thing with Eileen right now, but he also felt guilty for worrying people. Especially her. 

“Guess I just like this one,” he answered blandly, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking at his shoes. It was a lie, of course. A little fib to spare the feelings of someone he wished he cared about but didn’t know how to. 

 

It had been over five years now, and Henry still hadn’t unpacked from his last move here. The books in his shelf remained untouched, a thick layer of dust covering their jackets to the point of being unrecognizable. His clothes were still in boxes and shoved into empty closets. The only decorations in the dark and dreary room were still the very same portraits he had hung there upon moving. 

 

It was too much of a hassle to think about changing. He had his notebooks and his camera on a desk in the corner, the only part of his room that seemed lived in. Everything else, much like the fridge, was empty. 

 

There was a takeout menu next to a braid of rope he didn’t remember putting there. Was it yesterday… or last week? Henry couldn’t tell. The days all blended into each other when you hardly left bed. 

 

How do you tell someone that you’ve been trying to kill yourself ever since you moved next door to them?

 

"Alright... well... Maybe we can do something together one day, then. Get you out of the house for a bit?" Eileen reached for Henry's hand, taking it in her own. He had always been sort of an enigma to her and still was, if she thought about it. Henry seemed to know so much about other people, and yet she knew absolutely nothing about him. She cared for in despite this, still feeling grateful for escaping with her life.

 

Henry's eyes dart back into his room, focusing on the noose left on his counter. It was a strange relationship, him and suicide. He had meant for it to occur much sooner, but every single chance he got was always interrupted. The man sighed, looking back at Eileen with an empty gaze. 

 

Her words had gone unregistered, lost to the void of space and time that separated Henry from the world of others. He quickly moved his hand, not wanting to be touched by anyone if it was an option. The dark haired man awkwardly forced a smile. 

 

"Maybe, but not today. I'm..." What was he doing anyway? He reached around to his back pocket and pulled out the car magazine from earlier. "In the middle of something, actually. I want to finish this book today. Maybe another time."

 

Eileen gave a soft smile, slightly disappointed that he had rejected her friendly advances. She truly did worry about Henry sometimes, often fearing that, despite his calm disposition, he might do something stupid and unexpected one day. "Well, I'll be in town for a while, you can call if you need anything."

 

Henry entered his apartment swiftly and without a word, closing the door and locking it on her. He was thankful for the escape, never being one for conversation. The suffocating feeling in his stomach slowly disappeared, leaving him able to breathe again.

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