Seeker, Scholar, Psychic and a Ghost

Holy Shit, Scholar?

Night had already fallen by the time Cort arrived home. Swinging open the door, she surveyed the dark house before busying herself with turning on all the lights, chucking her bag aside. The shallow light gazed silently at her as it warmed up, sending a soft glow on every object. Cort dragged herself to the kitchen and pulled a frozen pizza out of the freezer. She ripped off the plastic wrapping and popped it into the oven. Thoughts of the following week spiralled their way into her head. Going to school; pretending to like people; going to classes on topics she didn't give a shit about; etc. She shook her head, getting rid of her negative thoughts, at least she had Sunday. Marching out of the kitchen, she decided to drown her sorrows in late-night movies. She dropped down on the couch when a loud scratchy-knocking sound filled the room. Halfway through picking up the remote control, Cort froze.

The sound echoed through the house, grating Cort's ears like cheese. 

"Who's there?" Cort used her deepest most aggressive voice she could muster in hopes of scaring off her visitor. The sound stopped. The air hung heavy with the anticipation radiating from Cort's body. Carefully, Cort rose from her spot on the couch, and, unfortunately, a book decided to come with her. Wincing at the sound of its hardcover meeting the solid wood flooring, she crept to the entryway and looked out onto the front porch using the peephole. Standing on the front porch, in an attire of deep dark red, was a man. A thick red substance dripped from his hair across his face, and Cort realised, it was blood. He held a briefcase and a towel, which he used to wipe his face with. It didn't do much for the towel itself was already soaked through. 

"Hello. I know you are there, sir." Cort, having stuffed her fist in her mouth so that she didn't scream, stayed silent. "Look, sir. I promise you I am a respectable man. I am a scholar from Germany. I need a place to stay." Cort removed her fist from her face and breathed deeply before continuing her charade. 

"You can't stay here fucker. You're drenched in blood!" She heard a sigh and looked again to find the man gone. Relived, she backed away from the door. Thud! Crash! Cort found herself laying on the ground for the second time that day. The man stood in front of her, trying to jimmy the door back onto its hinges. Blood dripped from his body, spraying the floor in droplets of red. 

"Out! Get out! You're dripping blood everywhere! I'll do that," She jumped up and snatched the door out of his hands. "Get out!" She yelled, shoving him out of the house. Taken aback, he looked her up and down. 

"You're a woman." He said surprised, rubbing his sticky red hands on his towel. Cort angrily put the door to the side and walked up to him, rolling up her plaid sleeves. 

"Yeah, punk. Anything wrong with that!?" The man shook his head and glanced down at himself. 

"Do you have a hose I could use?" He gestured to the blood. Cort thought it over. She couldn't leave him to stumble into town covered in blood. Angrily, she grabbed his elbow and half dragged him to the side of the house. She pointed to a rolled-up hose before stomping back to the entrance.

Sighing heavily, she yanked a mop and bucket out of the closet in the entrance and went to fill the bucket up in the sink. She hurried back to the entryway and began to mop up the wet and sticky floor. Once she finished, she put the mop outside and got some towels to dry the floor. Then wiped down the door and lined it up with its hinges, putting the pins back in to keep it in place. It was once she finished, that the phone started ringing. She hurried over to the kitchen to pick it up. 

"Hello?" She said, drumming her fingers on the counter. 

"Hi, I wouldn't bother you again, but I can't wear these clothes anymore, they're stained through. Is there anything I could borrow?" Cort jumped in surprise at the man's voice.