Fiction by mouth{JT}

Wearily, she let the key in the lock, thankful to be home. It had been a long, hard shift at the hospital, and all she wanted to do on this cold, windy night was to have a long hot shower, something to eat, and bed, ready for the next day’s shift. The TV was going, a trifle too loud, but she blocked out the noise and called out, “Hi, I’m home,” and got a grunt and a wave in reply. No change there, then. A quick glance into the fridge showed her some still edible leftovers, and as she waited for the microwave to ding, she glanced out of the window into the street below.

It was a rough neighborhood, there was no denying that, and the amount of boarded up shops and unkempt look the back alleys gave showed that times were hard. She shrugged. It was one of the reasons rents were so cheap around here. The wind blew trash up the street, and she watched it swirling away, catching at a hooker’s legs as she waited for a customer. It was cold, though, and hardly anyone was around this time of night. Eventually, the hooker lit a cigarette and after a quick look up and down the street, moved off in search of better pickings.

The ding of the microwave told her dinner was ready. She ate it standing up, drifting back to the window, her eyes darting glances to every doorway, then the alley and back again. It was late, and most of the shades were drawn, or the window was dark. A perfect night for peeping toms – or worse – she thought, and shuddered.

Wasn’t it nights like this that the BTK guy went out, breaking into apartments and houses to do the terrible things he did, relying on the fact no one was around to hear? She wasn’t sure, but thought so – and just a couple of months ago, two streets away, the police had caught a peeping tom, right in the act if you please, masturbating in front of some young girl’s bedroom as she got ready for bed. Not to mention Ted Bundy, the charming serial killer who broke into nurses’ rooms and murdered them. Yes, it was a perfect night for something bad to happen. Feeling sick, she turned away from the window, the meal in her stomach disgreeing with the clinical germ smell she fancied clung to her clothes after a shift at work.

The clock pinged over to exactly midnight as she moved into the lounge, muttering, “Turn that thing down. I’m off for a shower, then bed. I’ve had enough for one day.” A double shift at work had made her tired and cranky, and she was in no mood to be woken by screaming from the TV. Her nerves were shot enough as it was.

Her roommate turned her head and grinned, pointing to the TV. “A shower, huh? Better watch out!” The shower scene from the movie “Psycho” was showing, hence the screaming. She mustered a very flat, “Ha, ha, very funny,” and left the room, going into the small bathroom and turning the shower on full.

As she waited for it to heat up, she gathered her night things, turned the electric blanket on, and went back, haphazardly stripping off her dirty uniform. Soon, her underthings followed and she stepped into the scalding hot shower, trying hard to block out the unpleasant noises coming from the TV. God, but the water felt good as it streamed down her back, pushing the aches and pains of the day away, her hands flat against the wall, safely ensconced by the shower curtain. Soaping up her wet hair, she looked up, and suddenly froze.

She wasn’t alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen something – just a very slight movement, but her sixth sense told her she had company. Her stomach churned. God, what to do now? Had she left the window open? She couldn’t be sure. Why hadn’t she checked? Should she call out? No, that damn TV would drown out her calls for help. The water poured down her body unheeded as she tried to think what to do, what to do, but her mind was blank.

There! The shadow wavered. She knew now she wasn’t alone, was certain of it. Perhaps it was just a draught, her logic kicked in, but that feeling would not go away, no matter how hard she tried. What the hell was going to happen now? A wave of complete terror washed over her as she waited, knowing it was coming. The half digested meal in her stomach was threatening to come up, and all thoughts of tiredness were now gone. She had to protect herself. But how? With what? There was nothing to help her but rows of beauty products adorning the shelf. God forbid, was she going to be found naked and dead in the shower by morning, the water running cold over her nude body? Janet Leigh’s screams coming from the TV weren’t helping any, and her nerves shifted into high gear.

Again, a slight shift in the shower cutain indicated the presence of another, and keeping her eyes firmly on the spot, she reached out, groping blindly for a towel, feeling the security of the warm material as she glided it around herself.

As the cutain shifted again, she couldn’t stand it any more. If she was going to be attacked, she would at least try and make a run for it first. Gathering up her courage, her hand crept towards the curtain before taking a deep breath and sweeping it back, at the same time screaming, “AAAARRRGGGHHHHH!” and diving for the door. Her room mate looked up in surprise as she burst dripping wet into the lounge, barely covered by the towel.

“I thought you said you got rid of that fucking spider yesterday!”