Free 13 Drops of Blood by James Roy Daley Page B

day.
    She said, “We need to get out of here!”
    “No,” Jennifer whispered. “Just hurry, Kate. Hurry!”
    There was no time to argue so Kate bent the hanger this way and that, playing it like an accordion, trying to snap it. She didn’t think she’d be able to unravel it fast enough, and time was so important now. Oh yes it was. She thought about running for the second time that evening, but Jennifer was in no position to follow her lead, and she couldn’t leave her sister behind.
    Richard growled, sounding like a grizzly bear.
    Jennifer screamed again. And Kate screamed too, frustrated with the time she was spending. Her hands were working as fast as they could but it wasn’t fast enough. She didn’t think the hanger would ever break but suddenly it did. It broke right where she wanted. It almost seemed like a miracle.
    Straightening the wire, she turned it into a long, narrow spear. Then she dropped to the floor, positioning herself between her sister’s legs.
    Jennifer’s eyes widened. She looked desperate now––desperate and in serious pain. She lifted her knees, stretched her legs apart, and grabbed a hold of her blood-soaked underwear. She pulled the dripping cloth to one side, exposing her vagina. Gasping and begging, she said, “Do it, Kate. Kill it. Kill it!”
    Kate caught a frightful glimpse of her sister’s belly before pushing her labia apart with her fingers and plunging the wire in. But one glimpse of Jennifer’s stomach getting ripped open was enough: skin splitting, muscles tearing, blood pouring to the floor in generous amounts. There was a coil of flesh that appeared to be growing and when Kate saw it her stomach clenched and she thought she might pass out. It was too late to perform a back-alley abortion. It had to be too late.
    Looking Jennifer in the eye, Kate forced the wire deep inside.
    And Jennifer, gasping her final breaths, writhing in agony, looked up. Not at Kate. Oh no. There was a monster in the room now, standing high above, gazing down at the girls with its terrible green eyes, teeth like daggers, bloodlust boiling inside its brain.
    Richard was gone.
    And although Jennifer knew that her husband had become something entirely different––something bred without love or affection––memory of the man she married seeped into her heart and she managed to say, “I love you with all my heart, Richard Beach. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m unconditionally yours.”
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    A GHOST IN MY ROOM
     
    Last night I saw a ghost in my room, the ghost of my wife Luisa. I was lying in bed when it happened. The light was on––not the bright one, just the little one that sits on the table beside the bed. One moment I was rehashing my day and reading a magazine and the next moment she was there. I didn’t notice her at first; I didn’t see her appear. But I felt that something was different, something had changed. So I looked up, not expecting to see anything out of the ordinary, and there she was, looking in my direction.
    Her skin was pale and wrinkled, her dress was sopping wet. She had long runners of seaweed tangled within her hair, which for the most part was clinging to her face and skull. Her nose had begun to rot around her nostrils. Her eyes were glossy; her white orbs and the skin around them was so incredibly dark and dreary that I wasn’t sure it was her––but it was. Oh God, of course it was her. A man knows his own wife when he sees her, even when she looks so bad.
    I sat up quickly, placing my weight on my elbows and resting my back on the headboard. Then I pulled my knees towards my chest and away from her, careful not to make a sound as I did so. I briefly considered jumping up from the bed and running for the door, but my fear had me paralyzed. I wasn’t going anywhere.
    Besides, is it possible to run from a ghost?
    Somehow I doubted it.
    She was in the far corner, hiding in the darkest place, where the wallpaper peeled