Unusual Circumstances

Part I: An Unexpected Interview

Keith Matthews was on the way for a possibly life-changing interview when his life changed. He was on the sidewalk, having just straightened from tying his shoes, when he began to walk- and obsessively check his watch, fearing that he might be late- towards the open door. From such a distance, the door seemed intimidating and looming, but in later minutes, Keith would remember it as gleaming and inviting, full of possibilities. But, of course, that wasn't where Keith was going. If Keith had gone to his interview, he would have gotten a job and grown up to be a 9-5 businessman, secretly hating his existence and wishing posthumously that his dreams had become something. But Keith was saved from such a fate when somebody struck a blow to his head with such force that he staggered over and nearly fell into the street.

After what appeared to be a mildly excessive amount of cursing and swearing- the blow honestly, didn't merit such hatred- Keith stood up to find that several passerby were staring at him in concern and revulsion. He shook his head, clearing it, and glanced around but his attacker was nowhere to be found. Before, however, he could angrily question the onlookers where the assailant had run off to, a voice spoke in his head. A voice he'd never forget.

Can you please shut up?

Keith blinked and began to open his mouth.

No, seriously. Shut up. I don't want to hear it. STOP that. Yes, that. What you were going to say. No, this isn't a prank. Yes, I'm talking in your head. No, there aren't any cameras or microph-

The voice cut off for a second and Keith- despite his outrageous anger and worry for his sanity- found himself concerned as he heard a moan of pain. The voice returned, weaker.

My ap- A cough. Apologies for snapping at you. Could you be a doll and help me out? No, I promise I won't kill you. In fact, I'd like for you to save my li-Several coughs and a moan, followed by a grunt, as if the voice was trying to sit up straight. Yes, that's right. I am trying to sit up straight, but soon I won't be able to blink, much less sit up. Would you mind turning into that alley- yes, that one over there on your left- and helping me out? Just look for a pile of awkwardly shaped poor dress choices.

Keith debated over listening to the voice then slowly began creeping towards the open door- don't blame the poor guy, he wasn't born a hero- when the voice mumbled a plea. Sighing at the voice and his own conscience, Keith turned towards the alley and walked in, sidestepping a particularly nasty cat that scampered out from under a pair of ratty old white headphones. Keith kept on walking until he found a muddy pile of rags that he supposed could have been shaped like a person. He crouched down and attempted to find the person's head.

Yes, hello. It's a pleasure to meet you- OW. Do NOT poke me in the eye, thanks.

Keith muttered under his breath and carefully moved around the rags until he saw a feminine face. Pretty, he supposed, if she got cleaned up-

You know I can read your mind, right? Like, this isn't like a one-time thing.

Keith frowned and sighed. "Can you please get out of my head?"

Oh trust me, I'd love to. I do NOT want to know what you were doing last Friday night on your laptop- EW EW EW. STOP. THINK OF ANYTHING BUT THAT. Thank you. Seriously? Gerbils? Dude, you have a problem.

Keith sighed.

Are you gonna keep doing that? I thought that I was the damsel in distress here.

Keith glared at the face, which blinked prettily and assumed an air of innocence.

My name is Dorothy. You can stop calling me "the face" and "the voice" now, thanks.

Keith opened his mouth and spoke before the voice could cut him off. "No, I'm not going to let you read all of my thoughts. I'm going to speak out loud because I'm comfortable this way. Dorothy. Now, what d'you want my help with? So I can please get out of this ugly alley."

Dorothy sighed. Out loud, mind you.

I can't speak out loud at the moment, and you're about to see why. See where my hand is? Yeah, there. Move the shirt up a bit away from there. Oi, stop thinking up stuff. I'm bloody wounded. Heh, pun.

She coughed out a laugh and grinned weakly even as blood began to dribble from a corner of her mouth. Keith pulled back the shirt to find a nasty looking bullet hole.

"Yikes," he muttered.

I'm not even going to bother remarking on your vocabulary. Can you please call an ambulance? I would but I can't reach for my phone.

Keith nodded and began dialing. "So why ask me of all people? You look like you've been bleeding for ages. Hasn't anybody else tried to help?"

Dorothy smiled apologetically. Sorry. I've been trying for nearly twenty minutes, but only two people- who were so single minded to have been interrupted and who could have heard me- other than you have passed, and they both got quickly freaked out and may or may not have ran away screaming. Dorothy yawned. Hey, is it just me or does that lightbulb look awfully nice. She sighed.Y'know, your eyes are really brown. They make me want to just lose myself and fall asleep.

Keith frowned. "Hold up, Dorothy. No, stay with me. Just until the doctors get here. C'mon, I'm lucky number three. Third time's the charm. Just hold on for a little longer. I promise I'll help you with your fashion sense."

Dorothy smiled weakly. Fine. I suppose I'll have to agree to that, Brown-Eyes.

A pause. Then,

You like chocolate, Brown-Eyes? I love chocolate..

Her voice faded and her breathing slowed, nearly taking his with it. Keith cursed.

She was dying.