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She
I could hear her voice again. I closed my eyes tight against the Shrill One,
the original southern twanger, the voice of my nightmares come to life.
"C'mon, honey, let's get rollin'!"
A shove, hard into my shoulder, and I jerked awake. Was any of this real? I
wanted to answer no, but I knew better.
A big red and blue blob, a blur, she stared at me. Her eyes were the first
thing to come in focus. Such a deep, deep violet and caked all around in
arachnid lashes and blue eye shadow nestled in trenches tracing her deep set eye
sockets. She didn't blink for a long time. When she did her lashes stuck
together, keeping her eyes closed for a moment, stretching the lids in the
effort to
pry them apart.
I almost laughed, but I felt it again. A stirring below my waist, the
starting of a thirst I knew I'd have to quench.
Her lips, then. Thin, deep red, bloody rivulets leaking at the edges. Small,
dark teeth peeking between them, tipped crimson.
Then her nose. The one thing that remained beautiful on her face. Small,
perfect, slightly upturned at the end. It didn't interest me.
Oh, her hair! The pinnacle, the crowning glory of all woman! Orange, sticky
with hairspray, a deflated balloon that defied gravity yesterday. It now lay
flat on one side of her head.
Now I could no longer bear that thirst. It had become a pain deep inside. It
hurt. It hurt. I pulled her to me. My arms embraced the velvet skin that slid
over her bones under my fingers. She was so small, I could break her if I
wanted.
I knew she would break me in the end.
