[Part 2] (https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/18sekbr/ive_stolen_a_classified_coroners_report_and_my/)
My girlfriend is waging a silent war against me. Not a war where one would enact little transgressions against their opponent out of spite, but a friendly war. An understanding, caring, and increasingly hard to manage— war. When I graduated high school, like every 18 year old that just earned a shiny new set of wings to fly into the adult world with, I flew a little too close to the sun. My father would always say to me-
“If you move in with your best friend, you’ll be sworn enemies in two weeks!”
I cant remember what I felt when he said that to me, no less my reaction to his words. About all I can remember from that time, was that I was bursting with enthusiasm to be an adult- and burning to get out of the damn house. Back then I wanted nothing more than to move in with my girlfriend, Sara. In which, my father had been right- she was my best friend, too. Luckily for me, in the time that it would take my father to be through with one of his red-faced steamy rants about me leaving so soon after graduation— I had already gotten everything arranged for “Sara and Shaun’s new life”.
“Do you know how much money you could be saving???” he would say as his enraged spittle crashed down on my forehead. In my mind, I instantly fall to my knees. Gross. Maybe its scary that this is the extent of my memory of a situation that happened only a few short years ago. I work too much for it to be on my mind all the time, I guess. What I do remember is this;
I’ve lived with my girlfriend for 4 years. Sara is the most marvelous being on this planet, or in the universe, or past the universe into the whatever-verse. When she graduated she went straight to college. When I graduated, I went straight to work.
The first year of living together, truly being together every night was a dream. At this point my work, in my inexperience, had not made me complacent yet. Sara was living with me in the apartment I had gotten for us with money I had saved for years through high school. She was a ball of energy just a few years ago, I think. Much of what I can remember from year one happens to be great memories.
SLAM
I jump out of my skin on the twin sized bed I’m hunched over my laptop on. I tend to lose track of time when I’m browsing or posting…. Or just dicking around on the internet. Looks like Sara got home early, and judging by the slam of the door, she got home cranky. At this moment my stomach drops because it has donned on me that I had not done a thing she asked me to do in terms of the household cleaning and cho—
“Uh, Shaun?” I hear from across the room, by the front door. This is accompanied by a disappointed sigh.
Our apartment is a studio, lots of space. I turn my head and see my already scowling girlfriend. I imagined that she was beaming me with hot lasers coming from her eyes. Which…she was I guess, metaphorically. To my great fortune the gaze didn’t last so long, as she lifted an empty box of frozen taquitos I had for lunch earlier today that I hadn’t bothered to throw away in the trash can that was about 4 feet from our counter-top.
“Oh! Yeah I was gonna chuck that. I forgot I left it there…Sorry.” I manage to get these words through my teeth. Although I’m not proud of disappointing her, my smug expression still manages to find its way out.
“And the dishes too? Again?” Sara responds to my smug look with another of her own.
“Didn’t you say you were gonna clean up the bed-area today?”
“Well, yeah but I got distracted and just forgot to I guess..”
Sara, who had been reflecting my expression now shifts hers towards something a little more annoyed.
“Distracted? All day?” Thus, I can see Sara’s mind breaking at my dumb excuse.
“What on earth could have you been doing all day?” She lifts her fingers up to her mouth, I could sense that the immediate tension in the apartment as soon as she arrived home from class was stressing her out. See, this all comes down to me not doing simple household tasks. This situation we find ourselves in, I wish I could say it was the first time this has happened. Sara is endlessly particular in her cleanliness.
I’m serious, practically half of the apartment is her domain, too. Spotless. From the always-shining marble counter-tops to the pristine urn on the mantle place above our TV, she keeps up with it all. It’s almost like I never see her do it either, trust me it’s crazy. My point is, its my duty to respect this. I love her, and I don’t want her to be in an environment that she doesn’t feel like she can relax in.
“I… um, well I guess I was writing my blog for a little while before you got home.” I struggle to stand up and get out from the bed-area. This is partly due to the overwhelming feeling of guilt, and partly due to the empty Styrofoam take out box that I had almost tripped over while getting up. I walk towards her.
“I’ll do the dishes right now, I’ll do the rest tomorrow before work… I promise.” I look her in the eyes and put my hand on the counter-top. To be honest, even I didn’t remember what I had spent all day doing. I know I didn’t leave, and it sure as hell didn’t take me 6 or more hours to write 4 paragraphs of some online journal.
What the fuck had I been doing all day?
^(a) ^(nest) ^(of) ^(filth) ^(is) ^(fertile) ^(for) ^(a) ^(grand) ^(accommodation)
“Its whatever.” Sara turns from me as her keys make a hard collision with the little ceramic bowl we keep them in. Normally, I’d be put off by her mood- but I deserved it. All I can admit to is shame, and its been this way for years. Maybe I’ll start feeling relatively productive for two weeks but after that, my memory goes downhill again and everything starts going gray. Maybe I just stop caring or something but if you’ve lived with boys before you’ve seen how bad the mess can get. My messes, however were just a little worse.
I can’t tell you why I do it, I just do. I don’t remember why I don’t clean up around the place but…usually there’s a reason. I swear. At least, I think. The bed-area is a heap of my trash practically, old food— molded, empty containers, candy wrappers. That kind of thing. I’m not proud. My girlfriend is disgusted. I guess if I were to make excuses it would come down to my work schedule. I mean, I’m caught up in the murder machine here. On my feet all week, still nothing to show for it on Friday. Usually I’d be upset that Sara isn’t cutting me a break but my excuses have gone out the window in recent times.
I blinked and I could have sworn, before I opened my eyes- Sara was already in the shower. This was just part of her bedtime routine, so I doubted that she would like any food prepared for her— I sometimes do this to butter her up for the fact that I didn’t do chores. I let out a gracious sigh of relief. Although I can change what we’re going through, I still can’t help but to take my moments of reprieve from a tense encounter when I can.
I walk over to the kitchen sink and look at what is before me. The kitchen counter-tops leading up to the sink are spotless, shining and squeaky clean as usual. The cherry on top would be the stacked dishes forming a mountain range between the two sink-tubs in a beautiful contrast. My head is suddenly rushing with thoughts.
What took me so long?
When is enough, enough?
How do I keep living like this?
^(Leave them alone and walk away)
A jolt ran up my spine like lightening. What the hell was that? I mean, clearly I should know what it was since I was the one who… had the thought. I mean, it wasn’t like I just heard a voice in my head or something. I collect myself, including my thoughts and turn the hot water on while squeezing some soap into the heap of crusty dishes. With this comes my favorite part of doing the dishes; waiting for the sink to fill up. I lean against the counter and watch the hot waters steam rise up from a hole between a pot and a crusted bowl. Before I knew it, my head was rushing with thoughts again.
Why can’t I seem to remember anything anymore?
^(Turn off the water and sleep)
^(Turn off the water and be still)
I don’t think Sara will ever forgive me for never trying to improve.
^(Turn off the water and become Sara)
^(Become one, together while the nest of filth is fertile for its grand accommodation)
“Turn OFF the damn… FUCKING hot water while I’m in the shower will you?!”
Another quick jolt came up my spine as I heard Sara shouting at me from the bathroom. My last thought before being pulled out of my cacophony of thoughts was-
Whoops.
“Sorry!”
I maneuver my elbow and lower the handle on the faucet to the off position. Here I am, waiting at kitchen sink once-more. Waiting for the sound of the water coming from the shower-head to stop. Almost waiting for more unhinged thoughts to intrude my brain. Luckily at that moment, there were none to be had. I hear Sara turn off her shower and stir in the bathroom for a few minutes before opening the door and stepping out. I never see her in just a towel, unless we shower together which we haven’t done in a while. She’s fully decked out in her pajamas which I find odd since she usually has a routine she follows after class.
“Fucking nasty.” She scoffs as she kicks a few articles of trash around the bedside that had managed to find their way to her side of the twin sized bed we slept on every night. I turned out the lights and thought how I just want this day to be over with, and besides- Sara can live with the dishes being done tomorrow morning. The first thing in the morning. I would swear this to her. I trot along to the bed-area while stepping over my various messes to slide into bed with her. After a tense night, its kind of awkward to cuddle but, having such a small bed— we’re kind of forced to.
^(Become Sara)
You’d think any space that you could give them is needed but unfortunately that’s not quite an option for us. I slide in with a less than stellar charm to my movement. And quietly whisper to her “I love you.” Which she returned begrudgingly. Again, wasn’t the first time that this exchange has happened.
“Did you lock the door?” She yawns in her strained, tired voice.
“Yeah I did.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to wake up and see the door unlocked.”
^(Melt with Sara)
“I am sure I locked the door.” I am not sure I locked the door.
“Did you put the dish-soap back in the right place?”
“Yeah, probably.” Probably not.
^(Kiss) ^(her)
“And the hand-towel and dish-towel?”
“Uh huh..”
^(Melt) ^(into) ^(Sara)
“Are you at least going to do the dishes tomorrow?”
My mind was racing with thoughts that weren’t mine. I started tuning Sara out because of this overwhelming sense. Eventually she noticed that something was wrong and turned to face me.
^(Kiss her)
“Shaun, are you okay?”
I find the time to snap out of it once-more. “Yeah, doll. I’m okay. Lets get to bed.” Without any instruction from my brain- my nervous system orders my body to go in for a kiss on her cheek. As my lips reach her skin for a quick peck- I move my head back slightly so my head doesn’t come crashing into hers. The skin on my lips doesn’t follow suit with the rest of my head, however. My lips are still on her cheek, and it hurt.
“Ugh, what are you doing?! You can’t give me hickey on my cheek you weirdo!” Sara then attempts to move her head back from mine quite quickly. My head went wherever hers did.
“Ouch!” I managed to exclaim, although my lips were attached to her cheek so it ended up coming out very muffled. Panic waltzed its way into this situation fast. I close my eyes probably the tightest I’ve ever closed them before, placed my hand on Sara’s shoulder and pushed myself off of her. My lips had stretched from her cheek to what looked like to be the size of a no.2 pencil before snapping off, crimson liquid splashed on my face and in Sara’s hair. Afterwards I let out another pained exclamation.
“uck!!”
I can’t process what the fuck just happened, but I can process the pain that my face is in right now. I bring my hand to my face gathering the flesh that had been stretched out like elastic that used to be my lips.
“Uh… hospibtle?” I manage to spittle out. I could see just one little drop of blood and saliva shoot out from in between my fingers and land right on Sara’s forehead.
“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” Sara then lets out something between a scream and a whimper.
“Yeah” I gurgle. I could feel myself start to choke on my own blood.
^(Melt into Sara)
“Well… fuck! Lets get up and go then!” Sara exclaims.
“Ok…” I whisper as I grip my bloodstained hand onto her arm, again without the slightest notice from my own brain to do so.
^(Cant let go.)
I try to let go as my grip ever so slowly tightens around her arm. This develops into my entire arm retracting like I had some sort of rigor mortis. Whatever I do, no matter how hard I try to just straighten my damn arm out and unclench my hand…I cannot. Upon the retraction of my arm, Sara comes closer.
^(Filth is fertile for a grand accommodation)
“Shaun! Get off me for a second I need to get to my phone real quick.”
“Ok..” Soon my other arm follows my previous actions and grabs onto Sara as my right hand tightens around Sara’s collarbone. I can feel the warmth of her flesh and the hard, rigid texture of her bare collarbone as my fingertips melt into her body. Sara, in pain starts screaming. Her back was now against my body in a spooning position, one that we had become too familiar with in years past.
“WHATS HAPPENING!??”
Sara’s erratic and desperate attempts at getting away had become unbearably painful for the both of us. Without a clue what to do, and in considerable panic I figured I’d do what worked last time. I closed my eyes, even tighter than before- and managed to pull my hand clean from her arm. Accompanied with a splash and a crimson rainfall on the two of us as we both cry out in pain. I swing my now free hand across myself and over the side of the bed, as far away from Sara as I can possibly get it. Luckily, I managed to keep it from making movements I didn’t agree with.
“What the fuck is happening?” Sara sobs.
^(“I… I don’t kn..”) Is all my tired breath could muster.
I can feel my other hand going deeper and deeper into Sara, eventually I can feel her collarbone snap against my hand and soon after that…I couldn’t feel my hand at all. My arm, embedded inside of her retracts once more. This time the motion managed to cause my skin to start leaking through my clothes, right onto Sara’s back. Such a surreal sight to behold, my skin traversing through the tiny tiny holes in my shirt. As soon as my skin touches Sara, she starts to back into me as well. Unimaginable agony strikes my ribcage as her back sinks into my chest. Some of the skin on my face has started to get tangled in her hair as be both deliriously cry and wallow in a cadence that only god may hear.
We find ourselves soon past words, or crying out. The last comprehensible word I heard Sara say was
“Shaun?”
To which I replied,
“Sara?”
^(Become Sara)
^(Nest) ^(of) ^(filth) ^(is) ^(fertile) ^(for) ^(its) ^(grand) ^(accommodation)
^(Become more)
I’m past rational, or right thought. Sara continues to sink into me. I can no longer see out of one eye because the right side of my face has melted into the back of her head. Hours go by, both of us are finished screaming. The only sounds that fill this dark apartment are my faint wheezing, and the sound of our flesh, stretching like the oceans approaching tide. Spreading off the bedside. I have been left with so many thoughts in this time. I stopped hearing Sara breathe an hour ago, ever since my cheek made a dent in her brain. Our spreading mass of flesh reaches the floor, and the astounding mess of trash. I sense my expanding folds of skin start to consume this junk. I roll over the trash, break it down, and consume it. It tastes… really good. Really great. This may surprise you. Soon, our flesh expands evermore. Across the floor of the apartment, stopping right around the part of the apartment that Sara is so adamant about keeping clean. We just… can’t bring ourselves to expand more in that direction.
More time passes, our flesh parades up the lamppost- interweaves between small holes in our shelves and moves in under our rug, where I remembered I’d sweep all the dust and grime when I was feeling particularly lazy.
Its been so long. I cant feel Sara anymore. Not against me, or in me- but as me. I can feel the fly buzzing around on what remains of her left hand- just like it was my very own left hand.
Hmm, my left hand.
My left hand is free. The only things I can reach are the last items in my usual mound of trash, and my laptop. My depth perception has been destroyed, and my typing ability crippled, but I can bet you I haven’t made any spelling errors so far. If I did then what’s the matter, huh? I only have until my battery runs out to finally broadcast my thoughts and desire to the world. A desire that I’m no longer sure is my own anymore. While recording my thought by text, I’ve forgotten even what I’ve written just 20 minutes ago. I suppose when I’m finished, I’ll be able to read my story from the perspective of an onlooker like yourself. What I do remember is this;
Sara and I have been each other for 4 hours, we are the most marvelous being on the planet- ^(and a nest of filth is always fertile for a grand accommodation.)