AGAIN WITH THE BLOOD
By
BRIAN FATAH STEELE
(owned,
written, and copyrighted by Brian Fatah Steele, used by permission)
It’s never been
considered a good thing when you wake up screaming. Bethany did it for the
fourth night in a row, so by now she was becoming accustomed to the cold
sweats and having her fingers digging at the blankets. It was that
sensation of only being a step or two away from vomiting that she couldn’t
get used to. That, and the final image of her ongoing nightmare that was
burning its way into her mind directly behind closed eyelids.
She untangled herself
from the sheets and stepped down onto the cold floor. The effect only
served to accentuate her clamminess. She wiped the beads of perspiration
off her upper lip and looked at the clock. She didn’t have to be up for
another two hours. But up she was, and any hope of a return to sleep was
directly out of the question. Jesus, she was going to be worthless at work
today. Not that it took a mental giant to do retail, but she knew she would
spend most of the day as a zombie.
She maneuvered her way
into the bathroom, almost knocking the telephone off its stand. She closed
the door before flipping on the lights. She didn’t want to wake up Lindsey,
if her screams hadn’t already. She squinted in the brightness, trying to
allow her eyes to see properly. As she peered into the mirror, visions from
the last moments of her slumber worked their way back into her head. She
rubbed her face roughly and examined herself. If she wasn’t already so pale
she would be worried. Straight black hair framed her bloodshot eyes and
fell slightly below her shoulders. Bethany peeled the slick navy blue tank
top off her body and sat on the edge of the tub to draw a bath. A knock on
the door made her jump. She was shaking as she wrapped a towel around
herself and heard Lindsey’s voice come from the hallway.
Her roommate shielded
her eyes when Bethany opened the door. Lindsey stood there in her bright
green robe, her long curly brown hair pulled into a makeshift ponytail.
“Again?” Lindsey asked,
leaning against the door frame.
“Again.”
“Ya look like hell.”
“Thank you so much.”
Lindsey wandered into
the kitchen and began rummaging around in the refrigerator. She pulled out
a carton of orange juice and fruit punch juice box. She weighed them in her
hands and decided on the orange juice. As she was putting the juice box
back, Bethany called out from the bathroom.
“Are you up then?”
“Yeah. I aint getting'
back to sleep. Especially when ya look all distraught and shit.”
Bethany rolled her eyes
and closed the door. She unwrapped the towel and stared at the tub. She
hadn’t put the stopper in the bottom of it, and it had only filled a few
inches. She reached over, spun the knob and let the water stream out of the
shower nozzle. If she could push Lindsey in and out of the shower fast
enough, they might have time to run to the coffee shop to grab a few bagels
or something.
She stepped into the
water and let it cascade over her face, leaning back, she let the steam
build up behind the curtain. A few more nights like this and she would
welcome the possibility of being committed. She wished Jake had stayed over
night again. At least she wouldn’t wake up alone. Christ, she hoped she
was alone last night.
A shudder rolled through
her as the final memories played in her head. The white dress, the short
curly blond hair, the blood. The soap slipped from her hand as the images
assaulted her. Her bedroom, the girl, the blood. The blood. Bethany found
there were tears rolling down her cheeks. She quickly pulled herself
together, as best she could, and retrieved the soap. Only when she was
toweling off did she consider the ramifications of having a cold chill in a
hot shower.
In her deep purple robe,
she stepped hesitantly out into the hallway. Silence. She didn’t hear
Lindsey. She didn’t even hear the cats and the ridiculous bells on their
collars. She strained to hear the sounds of cars on the road, or the sound
of a neighbor’s television. She was rewarded with nothing. She shut her
eyes tightly and murmured a 'no.' She wouldn’t look over into her room.
Didn’t want to see it. Not again, not so soon. Not all that blood. Not...
“Bethany?”
Bethany screamed and
spun around. Lindsey let out a yelp and dropped the coffee cup in her
hands.
“Jesus fucking Christ,
Beth!"
Bethany ran her fingers
through her hair and sighed. While she stood there, Lindsey hopped over the
brown puddle and scooped up some dish towels from the kitchen. She mopped
up the spill while her roommate stood there in a daze.
“Okay, we’ll skip the
coffee. Don’t think ya need it anyhow," Lindsey said, attempting to wrangle
a smile out of her.
Lindsey took her blank
stare as an answer, but Bethany was trying to hold back another set of
tears. She mumble something, and Lindsey looked up.
“I said, I didn’t hear
you. Thought maybe you went back to bed.”
“I told ya I was up,
honey. I’m here for ya.”
Lindsey led Bethany to
the couch. After she waived away Lindsey’s question of some orange juice,
she started fiddling with the tassels on the end of one of the pillows. As
Lindsey poured herself some coffee. Bethany tried to get her pulse under
control.
“All right,” she said,
plopping down on the opposite end of the couch. “So...” she added, leaving
the air open for Bethany to fill.
“It’s the same as the
other nights, like I said,” Bethany began, furiously unwinding the tassels.
“You and I are standing in the kitchen. I look over and see a woman, a
girl, in a white dress run from your bedroom to mine. I don’t hear
anything, like footsteps, I just see it. I try to tell you, but you can’t
hear me. It’s like I’m not even there. Like I’m invisible or some shit.
So I walk over to my bedroom and look in. And this girl is standing there
with her back to me. She has on a white sun dress, the kind with ties in
the back, and short, curly blond hair. And...and there’s a pool of blood at
her feet. She’s standing in it. It’s all over her feet, and she’s
barefoot. Then she turns around. She turns around, Lindsey, and...”
“And then you wake up,”
Lindsey says grabbing Bethany’s pinky and wiggling it in support.
“I see her first. Her
whole front is covered, just like, fucking drenched in blood. I, ah...I
think her throat is slit. Like, ear to ear slit.”
“Ew, damn! You didn’t
tell me that part before!”
“I don’t think I
remembered it until now.”
Bethany struggled
through work that day. Like a robot, she placed the blouses, tank tops, and
cutesy tee shirts on hangers. She methodically folded all of the jeans and
kakis on the display tables. Jumping every time a co-worker or customer
spoke to her, by the time her lunch break came, she was a wreck. Bethany
sat outside the mall entrance and sucked down three cigarettes in a row, the
last one making her nauseous.
The rest of the day was
the same. On her way home, she picked up some Chinese take-out for herself
and Lindsey. Driving home, she noticed her cell phone beeping. She had
been zoned out all day, and had forgot to call Jake on her second break like
she usually did. It was probably from him.
It was, and the message
wasn’t good. His economics professor had assigned them a power point
presentation, and it was due in two days. Since he had to work tomorrow
after classes, he would have to work on it tonight, and not be able to see
her. Bethany massaged the bridge of her nose and tried not to be mad. She
hadn’t told Jake anything about her dreams, so he wouldn’t know how badly
she wanted him to be there tonight. It wasn’t his fault. Oh well, she had
designs to work on for class tomorrow herself. Maybe if she stayed up and
worked on some projects in advance, she would eventually be exhausted enough
to sleep through the night. Dreamless sleep.
Lindsey walked in
shortly after she did. Wanting to cheer up her roommate, she came bearing
rented DVDs. An armload of stupid teen comedies. Bethany decided to blow
off her school work. If a guy prodding pastries with his dick didn’t scare
off the nightmares, nothing would. After six hours of fart jokes, zit
jokes, and period jokes, she actually felt good enough for bed.
Both girls stood
hesitantly in the hallway. Lindsey shuffled her feet on the carpeting, and
Bethany chewed on her lip. Neither wanted to abandon the other first.
“If ya need anything...”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks
Linds.”
Lindsey nodded and
closed her bedroom door.
“Lindsey! Lindsey! I’m
right here! Why can’t you fucking hear me?”
Bethany keeps screaming,
but Lindsey ignores her. She has to tell Lindsey about the woman. A woman
just ran out of her room, and into Bethany’s. She has to come with Bethany
into the room to look for the woman. Don’t make her go by herself.
But she does. Her
roommate can not hear her. Her roommate does not know she is there. So
Bethany walks to her bedroom. She looks in the doorway, into the room. The
woman is standing there, near the corner. She has a white sun dress on.
It’s the kind that ties in the back. She has short, curly blond hair. The
woman is standing barefoot in a pool of blood.
Bethany walks forward.
She touches the woman on the shoulder, and the woman turns around. Blood
covers the front of the dress. It has soaked into it, making it stick to
her. Bethany sees the drops of red trickling off the hem of the dress.
Bethany looks up and sees the woman smile. It is not a smile. It is red,
like lipstick, but it is not a smile. It is too low. Underneath her chin,
on her throat, and it reaches to each earlobe. The woman opens her mouth,
her real mouth, and a red bubble pops out. And then it pours. And then
blood pours out.
Screaming. Bethany was
screaming and clutching her pillow. At the trail end, it caught in her
throat and made her cough. Coughing? When she began breathing right again,
she ran a hand through her hair. She looked over at the clock and groaned
at the time. She had only been asleep a little more than an hour. This was
not going to work. She still didn’t hear Alex’s television, but that didn’t
mean anything. He was a painter, and a nocturnal creature of habit. Maybe
she could go over there for a while. She might actually be able to fall
asleep on his couch while he droned on about Impressionist art. His
ramblings about obscure artists had that effect.
Bethany reached over and
flipped on her desk lamp, but froze with one foot out of the bed. There was
a puddle on her floor. It was a dark red puddle, and it was exactly were
the woman had been standing.
Everything went cold.
All she could do was listen to her heart pound rhythmically and stare in
stark horror at the blood. Then she saw the marks leading away from the
puddle. It was a trail. There were bloody footprints leading out of her
room.
Bethany shot out of her
bed. Lindsey. She had to make sure Lindsey was okay. She tiptoed around
the blood, terrified of touching it, as if a single toe were to make
contact, it would summon the woman back. She opened the door and peered
into the hall. The footprints lead to Lindsey’s room.
Bethany didn’t know
whether to be angry or terrified. Either her roommate was playing a cruel
joke or something was in the house. Or she could just be totally insane.
She followed the footprints down the hall, alternating her eyes from the
trail to Lindsey’s door. It was closed.
She knocked on it,
calling out her friend’s name, little more than a whisper. She knocked
again, but said nothing. She turned on the hall light to look at the door.
It was the same as usual, a large poster of Joni Mitchell adorning it.
Bethany opened the door.
Light spilled into the
room, illuminating Lindsey where she stood. She stood in her bright green
robe. She stood with her back facing the doorway. She stood at the end of
the trail of footprints.
A tiny moan escaped
Bethany. She did not realize she was walking forward. She did realize,
until it was too late, she had touched Lindsey on the same part of the
shoulder that she had touched the woman only moments ago in her nightmare.
But she saw the blood.
She saw how it stained the criss-crossing fabric and how it dripped from the
belt. She saw horrible smile carved across Lindsey’s throat, and she saw
the box cutter in Lindsey’s hand. She saw the blank, deadness to her
roommates eyes, and the bubble burst out of her roommates mouth, splattering
her face. She saw her roommate collapse to the ground.
Only then, right on
time, did Bethany scream.
- END -
