September, 13, 2011
To Whom It May Concern,
I felt a wave of dread run through me at this realization. She was still walking towards me; I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there, like a frightened deer caught in the headlights. She was getting closer; I was all of the sudden tongue tied. My heart was beating a mile a minute and my palms had begun to sweat. She was less than an inch away from me. She just stood there studying me, like she was trying to memorize me. Her scrutiny was making me uneasy; her eyes remained locked on me for several minutes. Suddenly her eyes darted up, connecting with mine. She leaned forward and with one swift motion, she pantsed me. I didn’t even have time to react; my cheeks were scorching with humiliation. Not that you could see them under the road burns though. She’s laughing now, like, hysterically. It’s kind of scary actually, but it’s amazing. Her laugh is so strong, so beautiful. It’s contagious; I’m laughing now too, and I have no idea why. We sit there and laugh together for what seemed like hours, but in reality only a couple minutes. She snorted when she laughed, making her sound nothing short of an autistic piglet. It was adorable, though. She was adorable.
She ceased her laughing fit abruptly, and smirked at me. It was a sarcastic, yet somehow welcoming smirk. It made me knew her next words were meant jokingly. “Are you lost?” she giggled, her voice was more beautiful than her laugh. “Judging from what I see now,” She said, once again examining me, “You’re in the wrong place, aren’t ya?” She grinned at me, exposing her surprisingly white teeth.
“Uh.” Was all I could make out, what is wrong with me?
“Uh?” she questioned, searching me for weaknesses.
“Uh, I-I fell and uh I needed t-to wash out my cuts and I couldn’t see where I was uh going and now I’m here.” I finished the sentence hastily. My eyes scanned the room awkwardly. “Uh, I should probably go.” I made a B-line for the door, but she stepped in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.
“You aren’t going anywhere until that mess is properly cleaned.” She gestures towards my face, and forces back into my original position at the sink.
“What if somebody walks in?” I ask her, paranoia starts to kick in. She smiles slyly at me.
“Don’t worry,” she says reaching for her bag, “I’ll keep them out.” She digs through her messenger bag until she finds what she’s looking for, which turns out to be a pair of thick, steel handcuffs. She quickly cuffs one end to the door knob, and the other to the handicap railing, which is conveniently located directly across from the door, now nobody could open the door more than 3 inches.
“Where did you get professional handcuffs?” I ask, slightly suspicious yet insanely amused.
“Don’t worry about it,” she turns back to her bag and starts searching for something else. “I know a guy.” She winks at me. She pulls out appears to be a makeup bag, but inside are medical supplies.
