Last Night

Part 1

I woke to my head pounding. It was so loud I almost thought someone was beating down the door. Then I heard a man's voice call out too, and I dragged my eyelids open. Someone was at the door.  Where was I? What happened?I wasn't in my bed like I thought I'd be.

Water splattered in my eyes so they closed instinctively. Was it raining? My legs tingled as I finally tried moving them. I wasn't sure if it was from the awkward pose or the barrage of tiny droplets of water. Carefully, I rolled to my side and peeked at my surroundings. The lights were bright and there was a drumming that echoed in my ears. I shuffled myself into a seated position and watched the room tilt on me. At least the blur of light grey paint and a Van Gogh-Dr. Who shower curtain was familiar. I was home, in the shower to be precise. Gripping the side of the bathtub, I took a slow deep breath.

Don't vomit. Do not vomit.

There was a very distinct smell amidst my honey-lavender shampoo, metallic and pungent: blood. My stomach flipped and I coughed twice before dry-heaving. A few chunks of food lay around me. Some were stuck to my arm too. I grimaced and realized I'd already vomited. I must have finished that bottle of chardonnay. White wine always makes me sick. Why'd I do it? Oh, that's right. The phone call. That's why I did it. As punishment.

A pale pink, dried streak discolored the side of the white tub. Hadn't I drank the last of my white wine tonight? Did I switch to red afterwards? Why was there pink marks splattered everywhere? I'd apparently laid on some and got it in my hair too. Maybe I'd nicked myself while shaving. My right hand reached up and rubbed my hair, then froze as soon as my eyes locked onto it. There was more blood. The thudding was back and I remembered the person at the door.

"Just a minute." I said as I turned off the water and scrambled out of the shower. Grabbing my towel was more than I could handle as I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor while the room swayed from side to side. My stomach rolled again, but I clamped my mouth shut.

"Hey, it's Ian from upstairs. Are you okay?" The voice called through the door.

I was surprised I could hear it from the bathroom, but it was a small apartment. Perhaps, he heard me because my front door no longer sounded like it was being smashed with a sledge hammer. After a few slow breaths, my stomach settled again as I gently touched my wet hair and examined my hand. "I think so. I might have hit my head, but I don't believe it's bleeding anymore."

"Okay. Have you called an ambulance?"

"No? I just woke up." I pulled the towel closer and shivered.

"You passed out? Can you walk? Is the room spinning at all?"

Shoot. That was a stupid thing to say. He sounded super worried now. Why did I say that? I needed to allay his fears. "My bad, I mean I just bumped my head. That's all. Yeah, I can walk fine."

"Can I come in?" He said.

"What? No! I'm in the shower. I can't. Why would you want to come in?"

"Because you hit your head, were bleeding, sound rather disoriented, and haven't called an ambulance. I just want to make sure you're not going to die on us here at SpringHaven Apartments. Ghosts are usually nasty business."

I shivered again before patting myself dry. With more push than I expected, I finally stood up and wobbled to the bedroom. "I said I'm fine."

My foot caught on a loose shoe and I hit the floor with my head again. The thundering headache was back with a vengeance. Where had that shoe come from? Did I really leave it in the middle of the room? How messed up did I get before my shower? I groaned and attempted to pull the towel over my backside. "Okay, you can come in. But I'll have to get the door anyway. It's locked. Wait there."