The room is small. Adorned only by a light. It’s laughing at me, spittles of illumination between breaths slap my face. Barren walls, floor. Concrete on all sides. Except in front of me. There’s a window.
I step towards it. Too dark to see. Flashlight doesn’t help.
My knuckles rap hollow on the glass. I scream out. No response. The light’s bellyaching, kneeslapping laugh above.
Hisssssssssss.
The door behind me is gone.
Hissss. Hissss. Hisssssssssss.
The window lights up. Another room. Similar to this one.
Hisssssss.
A figure in the corner. Crumpled, huddled on the floor, shaking. Long, stringy black hair. A girl, maybe, in rags. She paws at her head. Patches of bloody bald spots litter her scalp. Seeping, weeping wounds. Strands of oily black hair cling to her fingers, desperate to remain attached to something, anything. A new tired, black victim detaching with each pull. Bloody clumps of hair on the floor.
I tap the glass with the flashlight.
Hissssss.
I pound on the glass with my fist (sparing my metallic companion). Nothing. The light goes out. My side only. Spotlight on her.
The hissing stops. Her hands fall to her side. She’s pulled to her feet like a marionette surrendering to invisible strings. Still facing the corner. Hair falls from her unclenched hands, joining the wispy graveyard below.
Her hands smash into the walls. Bones, tendons, cartilage crunch, crumble against the indifferent concrete. Mangled fingers claw down the wall leaving trails of blood. Nails peel back. Fingers snap and jut out at odd angles. The walls hum and lust. Drink in the fetid gift. Greedy in the hands bloody wake.
She stops. Head twitches. The light on her side flinches. The skin on her neck undulates. Raspy breaths. Hers. I can’t breathe, haven’t. My heart beats in spite of my lungs. Her neck whips around. Bones snap. Muscles tear. The light cowers, hides.
A whisper, “Usssssssss.”
Darkness. Both sides. Silent. I breathe in. Out. Take a step back. Another. Keep going until I touch the wall behind me. Hands search for a handle. Nothing. Fingers trace cracks. Tiny ravines of despair. Cold. Abandoned. A dull glow hits the window. My flashlight. My fucking flashlight. Not alone.
No motion. No girl. Wasn’t real. Right? My hands continue their search. Where’s the door? There was a door? My flashlight surrenders.
A pause. A breath. My pounding chest the only movement in the room.
A wet slap. Another. Getting closer. Another breath - not mine.
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
Silence.
Something crunches on the wall to the left of my head. The right.
SnapCrackSquelch.
SnapCrackSquelch.
The light in my room howls back on.
She’s an inch from my face. Sick, pale skin. Almost translucent. Neck twisted. Boney protrusions like snow capped rocks. Head angled. Face shrouded by a curtain of greasy hair like oil spewing from a refinery, spitting beneath a dull gray sky. I taste her stench. Rank of sweat, vomit, piss, shit. Death.
SnapCrackSquelch.
My eyes close. Involuntary.
Reeking warm breath tickles my ear. Electricity shoots up my spine. Hairs at attention.
“Ussssss…usssssss…ussssss…”
Pause. The room swells. Flexes. Sweats. Breathes out.
A second. Ten seconds. Thirty seconds.
A whimper (not me). A sob.
I force my eyes open.
Her head snaps back into place. “You.”