It is always watching
They say you spend one-third of your life sleeping, but no one really knows what happens in those dark hours of the night when your mind and body drift away. Some say dreams are just ways your brain processes the day, while others say they are windows to another world.
My thoughts were interrupted as the loud alarm blared into my ear. I groaned as I slammed it quiet. I sat up on my bed and then a strong scent hit me. The smell coating the back of my throat was enough to make me gag, the smell of iron. I tried to shake my head, must be low iron or something.
I walked over to my bathroom and my stomach twisted as I looked straight into the mirror. My shirt was glued to my skin and was covered in dark stains of red and brown. Blood. I took off my shirt, looking for a wound, something to explain this. But nothing, not a single scratch on my body.
This blood wasn’t mine, yet it was all over me.
I stumbled downstairs. I needed water, something to wash the strong taste of iron out of my mouth. The TV flickered across the living room with a news broadcast on.
“… The victim was found around four a.m. in an alley off of West Street,” the anchor said, voice strained. “Authorities report unknown deep carvings etched into the chest cavity and symbols drawn along the alley wall. Parts of the victim’s skull appeared to be … Consumed. Local police have yet to find an ID on the woman whose face has been severely disfigured.”
I felt sick to my stomach, and once again, the smell of blood filled my nose even stronger this time. I grabbed the remote, switching the channels, but they were all filled with the same nightmare. I’ve never seen this woman in my life, yet I couldn’t help feeling I did something.
I scrubbed my body until it was red, to get rid of the stench, but it wouldn’t leave me alone. As I got out of the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror; my reflection was pale, my eyes dark and heavy. I have never been more disgusted with myself. I took my bloody clothes, shoved them deep into the trash, then grabbed a bucket with bleach and water and scrubbed the floor that was already clean. My head felt dizzy, but I couldn’t stop the scent of blood kept filling my nose.
By evening, I started finding the police reports, writing down the timeline, anything that would explain why I was drenched in blood that wasn’t mine, why my fingernails had dried blood under them with bruised knuckles. Why were my memories so buried from the other night? Why do I feel like I’ve seen a woman that I’ve never met? Why? Why? WHY?
I tried to get myself to sleep, but these thoughts consumed me. How was I supposed to move on when I knew something bad had happened last night? I did something to that woman, I just don’t know what. I looked over at my phone as it was already 2 a.m. The air started to feel colder, and I instantly felt like something was watching me.
In the corner of the room, something moved. I could not see what it was until it came into the moonlight, peering through my window. Its joints moved like broken branches as it crawled closer to me. It leaned over my bed, so close I could smell the blood coming from its breath. Its eyes were bloodshot red, locked with mine, leaving me frozen.
“Wh-what … a-are you?”
Its head tilted, smiling at me, showing its long-jaded teeth covered in blood. “You already know what I am.”
“Your hands were mine last night,” it whispered. “Your skin fits me well … but your memories, those are mine to keep.”
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