A Voice like Sin

Bloodied Vent

The voice that answers the phone is tired and groggy. "Hello...?" 

"Dawn?" My voice is nearly inaudible, it's so quiet. Fear makes it hard to get out words. 

Dawn yawns so loud, it cracks her jaw. "Myra? Why are you calling so late? I have to work tomorrow."

"There was... w-was a man and he was talking to mom a-and-" I cut myself off. I barely make any sense. Stuttering and incompetence wasn't going to aide my mother any. I needed to pull myself together so I could get my mother help. The little traitorous voice in the back of my head whispers, and what if she's beyond help? I shut my eyes tight and refuse to believe that my mother is beyond help, that she's dead.

She's all I had left. She had to still be alive.

She had to.

"Myra, what's wrong?" Dawn asks slowly, as if she was weighing every word. 

"I-I..." I breathe deep and try to calm down. "Dawn, there's a man upstairs and I think he hurt my mom." The words come out too fast and I pray she understood them, but the silence hangs too long between us. I open open my mouth to repeat what I said, slower this time, but Dawn starts speaking. 

"Myra, you need to get out of there right now. Open your window and run. I need you to run somewhere safe and stay there. I'm going to call the cops after we hang up."

Naturally, I start protesting. "Dawn, I'm not going to-" 

Something drips on my forehead. At first, I think it's a leak. It had been raining all day and my house was an old one. It wasn't impossible for it to be leaks.

And then it dripped again. It was too hot to be water. Horror rolls through my stomach like nausea. I raise a hand to brush the liquid off of my forehead.

My fingertips come away red. 

I bite my tongue so hard I think the tip is going to come off. It stifles the scream bubbling up in my throat. It takes an almost Herculean effort to stop myself from spewing up my lunch on the floor of my room.

More blood drips onto my my forehead, so hot, I think it's going to burn me. I scramble away from under the vent.

My phone lays, screen first, on the floor. I hear Dawn's teeny, hysterical voice, begging and pleading for me to answer.

I put the phone back to my ear. "... I'm still here." My voice sounds strange to my ears. Dull, muted, and quiet. I allow myself to think brief negative thoughts, maybe mom isn't alive, maybe she's dead, maybe that man killed her- before I shove the thoughts away and force myself to believe my mother is still alive. 

"Myra? Myra, oh my god, you scared me!" Dawn's voice sounds strange too, but whereas mine is devoid of emotion, her's is full of it. She sounds stuffed up and watery. She must've been crying. 

"I have blood on me..." I murmur slowly. I feel like my brain has completely disconnected from the situation. "I have my mom's blood on me. It's on my forehead." I scratch so hard at my forehead, I feel the skin break and collect under my fingernails. "... it's under my nails, Dawn... under..."

Dawn pauses. "Myra, I need you to get out of that house now. I need you to do that for me, will you? I need you to do that. Please." Her voice breaks into a sob. 

"Okay, Dawn. I'm going to go to the park." Quickly and mechanically, I shove my window open. My brain hasn't caught up with the program. I still feel disconnected. I climb out of my window, thankful I'm on the bottom floor and I have a fire-escape window. "Call the police, Dawn." I press the end button before she can respond. I shove my phone into my shirt and down my bra.

I haul myself completely out of the window and run towards the park the next street over. 

I move as quickly and silently as I can, my heart beating a million beats per minute. I don't look back, afraid of what I'll see.