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Exit Process
(© Bryan Way)

Page 1

I can hear rain through my nightmare; it’s above me, rolling down the roof of my house.  It constantly rains in Pennsylvania, regardless of season, and I hate it.  It isn’t only rain that I despise; it’s water from any source.  I can never shake the feeling that something is about to come out of water or pull me down, but nothing is more terrifying than drowning.  I can’t say I remember any instance of being close to drowning, but if I think about it, it feels like I already have.  That fear of drowning and the presence of barely distinguishable dread was what made my dream a nightmare.

I get that dull electrifying feeling of my muscles waking up as my mind crawls out of an unconscious state that has left me feeling refreshed, regardless of my nightmare.  My eyes slowly roll open to see the soft green ceiling cast in the dancing shadows from the window.  I try to remember when I went to sleep, or if I’m just napping, but I can’t seem to remember.  Memory always struck me as rather faulty anyway, because if I lost a certain memory I would never realize it was gone; I might not even recognize an absence in my mind.  Strangely, I don’t even remember if I had anything to do today, which is unlike me.

I reach over to the right side of the bed, the side that is exposed to the room, and try to reach for the alarm clock that sits on the floor, but my hand doesn’t make it any farther than halfway across my bed before it strikes something warm, soft, and fleshy.  I open my eyes and snap my head over to see human head turn towards me with opening eyes, only I have never seen this set of eyes before in my life.

“AHHHHH!  AHHHH! AHHHHHH!”  My body jolts awake as adrenaline rushes into my heart; I slam my body against the wall to my left and push myself away, and I am unable to remember even how to defend myself.  It’s a woman; she reaches up and hits the light switch, forcing my eyes shut.  I keep pushing away until I’m at the end of the bed, once there I instinctively hold my hands up in front of my face.  “Adam!  Adam!  Calm down!”  She says, raising her voice slightly as I feel her eyes on me, but how does she know my name?

“Who the fuck are you?!  What the fuck are you doing in my house?”  I’m finally able to adjust to the light, but all I can see is a dark silhouette.  Her hair creates a ghostly sort of halo around her head, and as I focus more I see that she is only wearing underwear.  I hold my hand out and motion to her.  “And why are you half naked?  What the fuck is going on?!”  The next things that come into focus are her eyes, which look completely black in such weak light.  “Who am I?  Adam, it’s me.”  Looking down at me compassionately, she takes a step forward.  Still not able to fully open my eyes, I hold my hand out in protest.  “No, don’t come any closer!  Who are you?”

I realize that I’m not wearing a shirt; in fact, I’m only wearing boxers.  I’ve never been able to sleep without some type of clothes before.  “Evelyn?  Evelyn Luminati?  How could you not remember me?”  I look away for a moment, and then into those brown sympathetic eyes and the mahogany hair that falls to her shoulders, hair that is sharply contrasted by the milky shade of her skin, which is taught to her slender frame.  Her breasts curved in tight, proportional arcs behind the black bra, and her waist featured sharp lines that narrowed as they delved beneath her matching black panties.

“I’ve never met you before in my life.”  Her jaw drops.  I stare into her and she stares back into me.  “Adam...” She starts sobbing and falls down to the floor weeping.  I slowly pull my sheets off and go over to her.  “No!”  She shouts, backing me off.   “You say you don’t know me, so don’t touch me!”  She curls her knees up by her chin and hugs them as I move toward her slowly.  “Evelyn, I...” She looks up at me.

“Say that again.”

“Evelyn...?”

“Adam?  Adam?”

I hold my hand out, shrug, and shake my head slowly.  She slides her left hand over knee up to her mouth.  “Oh Adam...” She says through her fingers, there’s a ring on one.  “Did you hit your head last night when we...” Suddenly, I feel like there are weights at the bottom of my eyes, and an incapacitating heat overwhelms my chest.  “Did what?  What did we do last night?”  I ask insistently.  She’s shaking her head and sobbing. I glance down at her left breast, the crouching position she’s in has bunched up the left cup and I can vaguely see her nipple as her chest heaves in and out, opening and closing the crevice.  Looking away quickly, my eyes drift across the room to the ceiling, and then back at my bed.

[ Continue to page 2 ]

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Genre:Living Dead
Type:Short story
Rating:4.13 / 10
Rated By:138 users
Comments: 14 users
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