Thirteen

I frantically pounded on the door to Greg's apartment, not having a key to get in. I heard him rustling around on the other side of the door before it finally opened and I made a mad dash inside, slamming it shut behind the dog and I. Greg was still half asleep, half dressed, and confused as ever.

"What the hell is going on?" he mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"There's…a….man…outside….dog……rain…..head," I was a mess, still reeling from what I had seen earlier. The words came out of my mouth as quickly as the images replayed in my head.

"Whoa, Matilda," Greg said, trying to calm me down like a rancher to an excited horse. "What's wrong?"

I bit my lip and let my mind sort itself out. That's when everything became clearer: Greg's apartment, my soaking wet clothing (his clothing, actually), Henry, who was oblivious to the night's events. How could I tell Greg what had happened without sounding like an escapee from the funny farm? That's really something you want to discover before you sleep with a girl.

"Greg," I started slowly. "I took Henry outside, and there was a man…"

"What man?" he interrupted, looking concerned. "What did he do to you?"

"Greg, he had a head." Maybe I should have reworded that. Greg stared at me for a moment, making sure that he had just correctly heard what I had said.

"Well, Matilda, I'd be a little concerned if he didn't have a head," he joked.

"No, no, that's not what I mean," I whined. "He was carrying a human head. He opened up his coat and pulled out the head. I saw it – I know it was real."

Greg stood there in his boxers, pondering what I had just told him. He was somewhere between fear and disbelief. I hoped, prayed even, that he would believe me. I didn't know how else I could prove this to Greg. I had never been completely serious before. Why would I start now? Greg examined me in my sorry state, my hair plastered to my face and the clothes sticking to my skin. I was panting like I had just ran a 12 mile race, when in all actuality, I had only gone from downstairs to upstairs (sad, huh?).

"Are you sure you saw this guy?" he asked, hesitating to believe me.

"Greg, I know this sounds crazy," I reasoned with him. "But I know what I saw. I wouldn't lie about something like this." Again, Greg fell silent and I felt like every passing second was another judgment he was making about me under faulty circumstances.

A heavy and evasive knock came at the door, making both of us jump. I backed away, thinking that my ghoul was just on the other side. Greg peered through the peep hole before opening the door. His landlord, a heavyset man resembling Santa Claus, stood under an open rainbow umbrella.

"Is everything okay with you kids?" he asked like a loving grandparent. Why couldn't I have a landlord like that? Debbie, my luscious land lady, was like the aunt who always got drunk on Christmas and stripped on the dining room table to "Jingle Bells". Yuck.

"Yeah, we're fine," Greg answered for both of us. "Why?"

"I thought I heard a scream, so I looked out my window and saw your friend running for her life," he motioned in my direction, and I felt my cheeks burning a deep red. "I can't sleep sometimes, so I stay up and watch 'Jeopardy'," he said, trying to explain his nocturnal habits.

Greg looked in my direction, still deciphering fact from fiction in his head. Saint Nicholas had backed up my story, but how reliable could an elderly, sleep deprived man be? Just then, Greg's cell phone rang, and Henry began barking like there was no tomorrow. Greg quieted him and answered the phone, not even using a witty greeting this time like, "Home of the Whopper. What's your beef?".

"Hello?" he said. He paused to let the unknown voice on the other end of the line speak, and then replied. "Okay, okay, I'll be right there." More talking from the other person before Greg turned to stare at me. I knew the discussion had turned to me, and I got a nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach. "I'll bring her, too." He said before hanging up. I didn't even give him time to explain.

"Who was that?" I asked, oblivious to Greg's landlord who was still standing in the doorway.

"That was Grissom," he replied. "He wants to see both of us – now."