There Was a Girl With Red Hair

There's an itch behind my eyes. The whole house has begun to smell like something between rotten turkey and burnt hair. I don't know if that even makes sense, but it's the best I can do. There's nothing in the house that should be making that smell, but it's there anyway. The nosebleeds are getting worse. Bright arterial red drips from my upper lip onto my shirt. The red haired girl lies in my bedroom. She herself stinks of overripe meat, a different smell entirely from the one I smell now.

I didn't call the EMS because I wasn't sure what to say. I took her pulse and though she breathes from time to time, there is no beat beneath her chest. Her skin is room temperature. I'm not sure if I should call the paramedics or a coroner.

I take a sip of Dr. Pepper. There is roughly three ounces of rum in the glass, and my head begins to buzz pleasantly even as my gut spews burning acid back up my esophagus. It has a chalky, yellow, bilious taste to it, but I slam down the rum and ignore it.

In the next room, she makes a rattling sound. I screw my eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners, and try to think. I take another pull on my glass and I stare out the window over the television. A shadow passes over it. Human in shape, a clearly defined shape of head and shoulders. The window is high up, a man would have to be over seven feet tall to walk past it that way. I squeeze my hands tightly on the arm rests of the chair I'm sitting in and the urge to vomit crawls up behind the burning feeling of bile in my gut. The glass shivers in its frame.

From the next room I hear a thump and rise to check on the red head. She's standing in the doorway, a black rope of liquid hanging thickly from the corner of her mouth. Syrupy and pendulous, it swings and I am transfixed by it. She's still dressed in the jogging outfit I found her in, but the top is now stained maroon and black in places. Her eyes are unfocused but as she comes toward me her mouth twists into a grin.

She is nearly within grasping distance of me when the spell breaks and I run for the kitchen.