Monochrome Lies

A Taste For Heart

A distinct beeping sound woke me. Gasping for air as sweat trickled down my forehead and neck, I look around the dimly lit room. Finding that the beeping was coming from the heart monitor I was hooked up to, my crazed eyes relaxed a little. Suddenly my calmed heartbeat began to race again as a flurry of nurses in teal scrubs rushed into the room. They began to hover over me, speaking in rushed sentences as they checked my vitals. One nurse shone a bright flashlight in my eyes, effectively blinding me for a few seconds while another nurse began to fire off questions with an unnatural speed that complimented the fast pace of the beeping noise in the far distance. In a state of shock and sudden fear, I froze. Their words blurred and joined together as they floated to my ears in a misty confusion. One thing was clear though. I was alive.

~~~

When a suspicious woman comes knocking at your door, take my advice and don't let her in. A week ago, I had found myself lazed in a stretched-out position on the vomit green couch I bought at a thrift shop for fifty bucks. The newest episode of a popular television show was serving as background noise. A carton of vanilla bean ice cream rested on my lap as I dug through the creamy contents with a large serving spoon. I hummed in delight at the creamy coldness on my tongue and closed my eyes as I smiled in contentment. Before I could take another bite, the loud buzzing of my doorbell echoed around the apartment. I looked up in confusion—as I wasn't expecting anyone—and got up to answer the door in a sluggish manner with a random blanket hooked over one of my slumped shoulders.

Looking through the tiny peephole, I made out the shadow of feminine figure. I slowly removed the deadbolt and the old apartment door swung open with and eerie creak. I cringed at the sound before looking up at the beautiful woman who had deposited herself on my doorstep.

"Can I help you?" I asked with a questioning gaze.

She only smirked back before replying in smooth voice that held a hint of an accent.

"Yes—" she grinned devilishly, "but first could I come in? It's a bit chilly and I'd rather talk with you in private."

I hesitated for a moment.

"I'm sorry, who are you again? I don't think I caught your name," I asked hoping to shake the crawling jitters the woman gave me.

"My apologies, you can call me Sarah, Sarah Dulaney. I work for Homeland Security—" she quickly flashed what looked like an identification badge. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about some complaints received from your neighbors."

My eyes bulged a little before I widened my door more and moved to the side to allow her in. She brushed by with a sly smile. I followed after her in confusion as I swiftly rushed to turn off the blaring tv before focusing again on the strange woman.

"Nice place," she commented.

"Thanks...So...what about these neighbors' complaints again?" I looked at her warily.

Ignoring my question, she glanced around the messy apartment in disinterest. As she did this, I took the time to look at her more closely than I had when I first opened the door. She wore a pristine white blouse tucked into a slim black pencil skirt paired with bright red 3-inch pumps. Her fiery red hair framed her slim pale face in voluminous waves. Minimal makeup covered her face, and a splash of burgundy glazed her lips. All in all, she definitely didn't look like she spent her time in a dull office space investigating possible terrorist or homeland threats for work. She looked more like fiery goddess if anything else.

Neither one of us took the initiative to talk for an awkward minute before I decided that the silence was deafening enough and cleared my throat to grab her attention once more.