I know he’s still crouched in the hall, licking my blood from his fingers and chain smoking. I lay in the fetal position. A half smoked cigarette burns inches from my face, the smoke stings my eyes, I don’t move.
A burnt match lies next to the cancer stick. I’m too scared to move, I can hear him in the hall being sooooo quiet. Even the mice think he’s gone, I’m not a mouse. There’s a horror show monster in my hall, a Vampyre. Great Grandmother told us stories about the Vampyre and his mortal lover. Her eyes would shine while she spoke, oh how’d they shine. My blood in the neon light coming through the window has the same shine.
The coppery stench of blood is cloying. I need to get up, I need to pee. I don’t get up. My bladder voids onto the hardwood floor. With all of this blood on the floor what’s a little piss going to hurt. How long can that bastard hold his breath? Do the dead even breathe? My purse lies a few feet away, the contents spilled into a fan across the floor. My cell phone, window to a sane world, is in that purse debris.
Can I make it that far? I hear a scrape from the hall. I can smell the cigarettes he smokes one after another. Why is he waiting? What is he waiting for? Oh God I can’t risk drawing his attention. I can’t make it to my phone anyway. My hands keep slipping in all my blood on the floor. I can’t feel my legs either. I see the piece of my spine he tore out through my stomach, I add vomit to my bodily fluids surrounding me.
So we wait. Me waiting for my eyes to close forever, him waiting for my eyes to shine. It doesn’t take long. Soon we chain smoke together while we hide in hallways. We’re not very good at it, but that’s ok it’s part of the fun. We creep closer to the door, we smile at each other and our eyes shine, oh how they shine.
