EMBER

ALTHEA

I look into her eyes while she gazes at me. We don't move. Just stare at each other. Her long raven hair is somewhat braided but most of it is trailing out messily.

Her penetrating eyes are obsidian black, they remind me of the void of a cursed night. Her jacket is severely ripped like she'd passed through a shredder to get here, she looks almost comical but that isn't why I am frozen in terror.

It is her.

The constant torture from my visions and dreams standing right before my eyes in her demon Jedi princess glory, right here in my bathroom.

She takes a step from the shimmering entrance she was standing in which looked like a mirror or kind of the sort to me. Now I very clearly should be running and screaming but no, my curiosity and idiocy get the better of me. I am so wrapped up in the possibility of her being here that I don't realize she is hurt.

She is bleeding a foul smelling black blood. I think the likely hood of an infection is high. She is really hurt. Maybe she indeed had battled a dozen tigers to get here, and stumbled through a shredder too, I mused to myself.

She stumbles forward her obsidian eyes turning white as they roll back into her head. I snap out of my daze and I run forward to catch her out of sheer reflexes because I wouldn't have done this in my right mind at all.

I sense this girl or whatever she was is extremely dangerous and deadly, just call it intuition. I gently lower her on the cold white tiles, she's kind of light.

I should be calling mom who would kill me if she saw the bloody mess the girl was making of the bathroom. She likes everything squeaky clean. I curse inwardly.

But I stop short, no one would believe me, mom would say am being dramatic or worse, crazy but who would blame her.

I was seeing things. I have been seeing weird things for as far as I can remember.

She's going to ask if I have taken my pills. Hallucinations maybe?

But this girl is real or at least my eyes think so but my mind is not so sure. I feel compelled to her in a way I can't even begin to understand but also revolted too by the gooey substance of her blood, definitely infected.

I feel like I know her, like a dream that is there, so near but I can't quite reach it.

But of course my psychiatrist would say it's because she's a mere figment of my imagination, I created her, for months now.

I laugh cynically as I rake a hand through my silver curls and mutter to myself all over again that am not crazy. I need to try to make sure I preserve the little sanity I have left.

My blue jeans and sneakers are completely messed up, this time I swear and cuss out loud and surely I would have been reprimanded for it if my parents were here but to hell with it. I hardly give a damn at this point.

I gently adjust the laying position of the fallen Jedi princess demon girl on the floor. I really should stop thinking of her like that.

I turn to go get my phone from my bedroom but something renders me immobile as realization dawns on me.

It couldn't be, though I have seen her like a million times but it could not be. Unless dreams count.

Apart from the obvious difference between her raven curls, blacker than night, actually the blackest I have ever seen and my silver lone red streaked ones, my grey eyes and her completely black ones, the rest is exactly identical.

Her chalky pale skin, her slender body, tall frame, and the bone structure looks exactly like mine under her now sullen face, she's fading away, fast.

But by visual measurements I calculate we were about the same height. Shakily, I kneel besides her rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans.

I was handling this and being extremely calm despite all this.

Am not sure if I am going to dread what I'll see but I flip her left hand anyways and there it is, a little triangular birth mark in the exact same place like mine.

I flip my left hand and put it aside hers just to confirm. The same.

I push her pale hand away as shock washes over me completely go into panic mode.

Did I die? I hope not am too young.

I think am dead. But how am I sure I am alive? I take in shallow breaths walking backwards slowly to create as much space between us never taking my eyes off her.

I run out of the bathroom when I reach the door my heart pounding and grab the purse off my bed dumping the contents till I get my phone. Well that's a good sign I might be alive. Ghosts don't keep phones.

My hands are shaking so badly and I feel the blood pounding in my ears but luckily Karim's number is on my speed dial.

I tap the screen and the call is put through. After seconds of agonized pacing an impatient voice replies from the other line.

"Hey I have been waiting for fifteen minutes outside your house, what's keeping you? " Karim demands.

I forgot we were supposed to hang out. The situation suddenly got critical.

I take a deep steadying breaths to collect myself, I can't lose myself and Karim immediately feels my panic. He's silent for a minute.

He doesn't ask more. He lets me breathe. He just tells me to open the gate lock for him. One of the reasons I love him, he doesn't badger me. I quickly rush down the steps practically jumping over some not caring if I fall and throw the front door open dashing to the gate.

I yank it open and there he is, my desperation and panic quickly ebbing and I find my voice again. I notice my hands are still shaking but I don't even care. Am too wired up to even mind.

I can't even afford to be scared. I look at him pleadingly. He's the only one who can prove my sanity right now.

"She's upstairs, she's dying Karim" I let it all out in that single sentence my voice sounding low, shaky and raspy, very unlike me at all.

He looks at the bloody mess on my clothes and rushes past me.

Who isn't afraid of blood? If you don't get squeamish at the sight of it you deserve a star.😏😏😏