Twelve
I woke up in a daze, not quite sure of where I was or what I had done the night before. The room around me was dark aside from the moonlight pouring into the window, and a lifeless body was lying next to me, their arm draped around my chest. Well, maybe it wasn't lifeless. I watched the figure calmly breathe and shift a little, and remembered that it was Greg. I studied his figure, tracing over the back of his neck, his shoulders, his lower back, all with my eyes. I felt the skin on his arm pressed against my breasts, almost like he was subconsciously trying to prevent exposure on my part. The protective boyfriend.
I lifted my head off of the pillow and looked around the room. There were no lights on, no fluorescent green numbers blinking on the alarm clock on the nightstand, no whirling from the ceiling fan. The rain was still hammering down on the roof, with the occasional clap of startling thunder. The storm must have killed the electricity.
Stumbling out of the bed, I felt around on the floor for one of the many t-shirts that Greg had pulled out of his dresser earlier. Finding the largest one I could, I pulled the shirt over my head and stuck my elbows into the bottom, trying to stretch out the fabric to make it longer. The cloth didn't want to budge, so I sifted through another of Greg's drawers until I found...well....Greg's drawers. Actually, an oversized pair of worn and tattered scrub pants. I pulled the pants on and quietly exited the bedroom.
Henry was waiting for me in the living room, his tail wagging feverishly and his ears perked up. He was desperate to go outside; I could tell that he knew not to go to the bathroom in the apartment. Greg must have laid down the law after that last peeing incident. I saw no harm in taking him out, even if we were in the middle of a monsoon. I couldn't let the poor dog just sit there and suffer.
Outside, the rainfall got heavier with each passing minute. It was nearly impossible to see 10 feet in front of yourself. I stood under an awning on the building, tightly grasping Henry's leash. I didn't want him to wander too far; I just wanted him to do his business and be quick about it. Like all dogs, though, Henry had different plans. He couldn't urinate in any ordinary patch of grass. No, no, his patch of grass had to be meticulously sought after and tested.
"Come on, Henry," I moaned, more to myself. The air was cold and moist, and the thin layers of Greg's clothing were offering no protection from the extreme temperature drop, especially in the chest area, if you know what I mean.
I waited a little while longer, looking around to make sure none of Greg's neighbors saw me in this state. In the distance, I thought I saw a dark figure, swaying back and forth. It was probably nothing more than my imagination, telling me that the Boogie Man was coming after me. Still, the figure seemed to be inching closer, and through the layers of rain, I could see definition in its appearance. His appearance, actually. He was dressed in all black with a hood pulled over his head. He walked in a rigid manner, like there was something wrong with his legs. He seemed to be dragging the left one. The nearer he got to Henry and I, the more frightened I became. I didn't like his mannerisms or his demeanor. And what kind of guy walks around cloaked in darkness in the middle of a rainy night (with the exception of Batman)?
And that's when I saw it. The man was close enough to me now that I could see tiny details I hadn't noticed before. I stood frozen as he pulled open his coat and revealed a human head he was holding, bloody and bruised. I felt saliva building up in the back of my throat, and my stomach churned with vomit. It was like a car accident: I was disgusted by it, but I couldn't look away. The head was brutally chopped off at the neck, with the nerves and veins still dangling there. The eyes were partially closed, and the mouth hung open as if in mid-scream.
The man came still closer, and that's when I regained my composure and awareness. Tightening my grip on Henry's leash, I screamed and ran like hell back to Greg's apartment, the dog right beside me, panting and jumping like it was a game. I had never been so scared in my entire life.