Home > Flash Fiction, Horror, serial, Were > Results 3

Results 3

Her eyes started to crack open as Jane came too. There was not much light where she was, but it was still enough to send sharp pains into her foggy brain. She forced the lids closed, trying not to squeeze them shut since that would so often make the headache worse. Instead, she concentrated on breathing without vomiting.

Whatever she was laying on was hard and rough. She was sure it wasn’t carpet or asphalt. It didn’t feel or smell right and when you drink as much and as often as Jane did, you knew what waking up on the floor or the street was like. She had no idea where she was but she was pretty sure of where she wasn’t.

She was naked. Whatever she was lying on was cool against her hip and breasts. The arm her head was resting on was tingling from a lack of circulation, so she took her time and shifted until she was on her back. Her stomach wasn’t being all that difficult, so she rubbed her thighs together and gave a little thank you to the heavens that they weren’t sticky. There was no way she had the money for a morning after pill, if she had any money left at all. Not to mention how uncomfortable it was to have last night’s fun running down your leg while you stood waiting for the bus.

Although she hated the idea of doing it, she had to get up. Her bladder was making itself known and while she was sure she could wait, she figured she should get out of here before whatever new boyfriend she had walked back into the room horny again. So, she brought one hand up over her eyes and opened them behind the safety of her palm.

Why did her skin feel sticky? Had someone just sprayed her face? It was still better than needing a pill to deal with the sticky thighs.

Letting the light in a little at a time kept the throbbing in her head from going up the Richter scale. Her eyes adjusted and after a minute, she could see just fine.

Looking around told her she was lying on a floor in a house that was still under construction. The reason she wasn’t passed out on the rug was because nobody had put one down yet. The amount of light coming in through the window made her think it was very early. The sun was not high enough to be seen yet but there was a bunch of pretty colors, orange, yellow and light blue, in the few wisps of cloud that Jane could see beside the sticker on the glass.

It took a few minutes, but Jane managed to sit up and run her fingers through her hair. It was matted and sticking together, which meant that there might have been more than one last night.

This morning was getting better by the moment.

She stood, swayed, found her balance and then looked for her clothes, when she had no luck finding them or her purse the search was abandoned. Jane walked to the window.

At a finished home across from her, a man wearing a baseball jersey was helping a boy in the same uniform put his stuff into the trunk. A woman walked out of the house, arguing with a teenage girl who looked like she was ignoring her mother just to piss her off. They didn’t look like they were just starting their day; it looked like they were going to an evening game. “Have I been passed out in this place all day?”

The car was backed into the drive. Once the family was all loaded up, the lights kicked on and managed to throw a reflection of Jane onto the window. She saw herself looking like she had stuck her finger in a light socket before rolling in red paint. She only had a second, but it was enough to leave her cold and clammy.

It looked like blood.

How had she gotten covered in blood?

Jane was having trouble breathing. She felt the room spin and put her hands on the window. Now that she looked closer at her hands, she could see little dark spots all over her skin. She was covered in blood.

After the car turned around the corner, Jane took off. She tore through the house, ripped the front door open to charge across the street. With no thought at all for the neighbors or possible security, she picked up a rock that was sitting on the porch and smashed the window beside the door. A few seconds and a loud crash later, the door was open and a pair of dirty feet darted up the stairs, hoping to find a bathroom.

As the vagrant woman darted through the quiet house of a middle class family of four, the community remained oblivious. No scream shook the neighborhood and no cussing fit scared the ears of the stuffed animals the children still owned. When Jane found the bathroom, when she looked into the mirror at a pair of terrified brown eyes, framed by more wrinkles than a woman of her age should have, and saw the blood. She saw that it looked like her hair and forehead had been painted red with a brush.

Jane saw a woman who looked like a serial killer in a movie, she vomited all over the sink and then she fainted.

  1. June 12, 2013 at 6:04 PM

    Liking this series! Looking forward to seeing where it goes!

    • June 12, 2013 at 10:24 PM

      Yeah, as this one is moving along I am having fun seeing where it goes. I usually plot stories over a few thousand words but I haven’t done that with this one so for once I don’t know what is going to happen at the end. I am only plotting one entry ahead.

      • June 13, 2013 at 1:20 AM

        Fun when it’s an adventure to write!

  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: