Blood.
I could hear it dripping onto the carpet in small, little plops.
Plop…
Plop…
Plop…
The sound echoed through my ears, growing louder with each plop until it turned into the echoing drops of water.
Drip…
Drip…
Drip..
The soft hum of the filter running…
The smell of chlorine…
Moonlight bouncing off the water, lighting up her floating dark curls…
“Come play with me, Mazie.”
My stomach twisted hard.
Taking another step back, I shook away the memory. I didn’t have time for ghosts.
The mime lowered the knife just enough for me to see the smear across his sleeve. One large streak of red, staining the perfect lines of his costume. What did he do? Was it him I heard next door?
His grin didn’t change as my eyes briefly shifted over to the door next to mine. He just stood there, holding the blade.
The storm outside was the safest choice I had. Unfortunately, that meant going past him. A part of me wondered what I was afraid of. The pain of being stabbed couldn’t be any worse than the guilt I’d been carrying around. Death would be a release, wouldn’t it? I couldn’t do it myself. I’d tried.
The mime looked down at the knife, then over at me as if he could read my thoughts and was daring me to come closer.
But I was a coward. Instead of walking forward to my fate, I slowly backed into my room.
The mime didn’t follow. He simply raised his finger and pressed it to his mouth, silently saying, “Shh.”
I slammed the door shut, rattling the frame. My chest heaved as I stepped back and locked my eyes on the handle, waiting for it to turn.
It didn’t move.
I didn’t hear any footsteps in the hall either. Except that didn’t mean I was safe. I was alone in a room with nowhere to go and nothing to fight with, trapped like a rat in a maze.
At least in here, I had weapons. One of which was the back of the toilet tank. It was heavy and effective. I’d knocked a couple of guys out with it. Cities weren’t safe places, especially in the hotels I could afford.
Now, I just had to make it to the bathroom. I shuffled backward while cautiously keeping my eye on the door. Each step I took echoed through my ears along with my pulse. And all I could think about was a nursery rhyme my sister used to recite.
One, two, buckle my shoe.
Three, four, shut the door.
For some reason, the words gave me comfort. That was until I backed into something large and solid.
My heart stopped.
