Bridge Jumper Comes Back To Life For Help: The Century Curse

003

The upstairs of Citrus's home was nothing out of the ordinary, at least compared to the insides of any other household. Turning the corner after finishing the first flight of stairs, there were more, but this set ended in a hall at its top. Of course, this wasn't the last step of the entire residence. Immediately to their left was an eerie-looking door with paint chipping off of it that led to the attic. Continuing along the wall in that direction sat a lifeless room with an unused mattress in it, and this wasn't the only one. There are a total of three bedrooms, but only one of them had daily use, Citrus's room. Why she'd looked on the market for a house with so many sleeping quarters, Ian hadn't a clue.

Ian expected his sister planned for roommates at some point if she ever gotten lonely carrying on day after day on her books. Made sense. She hinted at harboring a fear of dying alone and no one finding her body for weeks. But there was always the humbling thought that she wanted a family. A large tribe spilling into and out of each room. Ian wasn't sure of the correct assessment, but all he knew was that Citrus seemed happy enough with the way things were, at least for now. But the last room on the second floor, aside from the two closets, was the bathroom. It was the last door on the left, and their current destination.

Peeking over his shoulder, he picked up his pace once he realized his pursuer was just a bit too close. Once he reached the end, he parked himself across the hall, leaning against Citrus' bedroom door. As Diana approached, she stole a glance at him before noticing the bathroom mirror through the cracked opening.

"Ah! Finally!" She darted in, calming herself before nudging the door out of her way.

She's okay with crushing a windpipe, but draws the line at slamming doors?

The girl pushed herself up on her tiptoes, leaning herself against the vanity below the large rectangle hanging mirror. It seemed she measured in at only to be about 5'4" if not a little less. His face connected with his palm as he pondered how such a small, petite person managed to pin him.

Diana pulled and twisted her bangs for a few moments before crouching down to dig through the drawers and cabinets.

What the heck is she—

"Um, Ian," she said, turning to him. The color pink filled her cheeks as she nervously poked the tips of her index fingers together. "Where're the towels?"

Speculation impaired his thinking, but once he'd realized that she'd spoken to him, he too blushed. Though this was the enemy, flustering him. He swung open a cabinet harder than he intended, grabbed the first cloth he could properly latch onto, and fumbled it at her feet. Diana picked the towel up, but instead of immediately slamming the door to take care of her needs, she continued to stand there. There was this anxious look on her face as she observed different parts of the hall, then looked up at him. It was obvious whatever she was planning to say shook her up.

"Thank you." A flustered "eep" popped out with her words, then the expected shutting of the door finally came to fruition. Standing there stunned for a moment, he made the realization that a girl he knew to be so violent could be so unbelievably adorable. Instead of physically pacing, he instead acted upon it in the emptiness of his head.

What's going on? Is it all an act? Was it all a dream? Was this still a dream? Is existence just a simulation?

Back and forth, his imaginary self swayed in his internal white canvas. He never knew if it was normal to think out things like this, but he never wanted to embarrass himself by asking. Coming to his senses, he rattled his head harshly, as if he'd just awoken from a daze. Noticing he was still in front of the door, he stepped back. It was something he knew he should have done initially before she accused him of creeping. But as he did, the creaky nickel colored hinges echoed around the room.

"Um... Ian?" The pleading girl's face peeked around the corner of the partially opened door, fingers clasping onto its side. Immediately, he felt the blood rush down to his toes and back up to his head again, pumping through every part in between. Queasiness overtook him, but not the sickening stomach ache that preceded a dreadful night of medicine and expelling vomit. No, this was the sickening sensation of infatuation, what he considered being the beginning signs of one of the seven deadly sins: lust.

Stuttering and stuttering hard, his voice tripped over every letter he tried to sound out.

"Can you... show me how the shower works?"

Alas, 'twas a reasonable question, no need for stress. This house was old, and when Citrus bought it, she updated nothing. She may be an extremely successful author, but she was also incredibly frugal. That's why this house seemed like something an old retired couple would own rather than a celebrity's mansion. Other than protecting anonymity by living in such a low profile home, it was also a bargain. Stigmatized. Bodies found in the walls of the basement years ago. Citrus never told him the details. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Even so, Ian wasn't sure how hard figuring out an old-time shower spigot could be. Sure, it was an unusual model where you had to push it in before turning it to your desired temperature, but not difficult. It conflicted him. Maybe he was being too rash to assume the things he was familiar with meant others would have an equivalent perception. If his sister knew he was thinking in such ways, she would bonk him with a newspaper while she nagged on about how he needed to open his eyes to the world. Another lesson towards making him a better writer.

Ian took the first step back towards the bathroom door, then another. With each step, he grew more distracted at the thought of seeing any desirable or even undesirable part of Diana's body. But even that wouldn't allow him to forget about what she did. He approached the door, and Diana backed up. Now, her reflection was visible in that bathroom mirror she was so excited about. The sensation of passing out there on the spot tickled his brain, but ultimately receded when he noticed the bathroom towel already covering her. Nerves calmed for him as he entered, but the same couldn't be said for Diana. The girl trembled as she kept her eyes locked on the floor while he passed.

Pulling back the vinyl shower curtain, the plastic rings gliding against the rod, he reached in to turn the knob to what he considered the perfect temperature. But when Ian shoved the knob, the knob didn't move. Tracing the base of the valve, he felt something obstructing the intended motion of the object. A cluster of cotton ear picks. Suspicious, but he cleared it without hesitation, after which he started the shower.

But suddenly, a breeze brushed against his back. Ian thought it impossible with this room being without windows, but he thought nothing ill of it. He just had to get out. This, however, wasn't going to happen. As he turned, Diana tackled him into the large tub base, water now falling onto both of them. He was thankful for not being injured in this sudden event, but he felt that may change as he watched the naked Diana sitting on top of him with a kitchen knife in hand.

The emotions of terror and arousal battled within him. The pair of breasts in front of him were flatter than most he'd seen in the many years of porn, but he still appreciated the A or B cup he was estimating her at. Her waist was not the toned hourglass figure that most guys fawned over, but it still resembled the shape. The sprinkling water raining down on her hair flattened it out from its normal naturally risen state, but the white strands seemed to glisten like streaks of shooting stars as it reflected the fluorescent bathroom lighting. And those beautiful emerald eyes, with what seemed to him was anger and ill intent, finally pierced his heart.

I really hope this doesn't awaken anything undesirable inside of me.

Though he felt he wouldn't have to worry about that for long as she swung the knife down in his direction. His eyes slammed shut out of fear for what came next, but it surprised him to find that there was no pain. The shutters of his eyes crept open, only to be baffled at the standing situation. Her hands remained clasped onto the knife, but now it jutted out from her own stomach. It looked as though the stab had cut through her intestines. Diana kept her eyes locked on him, but this time, not with eyes of anger, but pleading ones as her consciousness seemed to fade.

"Help me," she murmured with her last bit of breath before collapsing beside him. He laid there, speechless, motionless, not sure when or even if he should move. Then heavy footsteps flew up the hallway stairs and charged in their direction.

"Are you okay?" Citrus flung herself around the door now standing exasperated in the frame. She stared for a moment, before commencing her breathing exercises. After calming, she looked up with a relieved face. "I guess she told you, huh?"