“Deathknell”

Rayelle said to me, “it’s a ten-hour drive — ugh, I don’t know that I can wait that long. Hurry up and get here already,” all of the anticipation, and more, in her tone. We always go back and forth like this; but no need to focus on that now. You know how some things go…

Blood poured from my mouth. I think, some in my eyes; my head was wet; I touch where the throbbing persists. I stagger to the body mirror in between the kids’ jack and jill bathroom set-up. I don’t need to bend my head too much to see a chunk — a literal piece of skin hanging — which was blurring my vision.

Her familiar, hysterical laugh. Another voice. Then, another. A man and a woman. Rayelle kneels in front of him; Pamela lays back across the griddle. Rayelle is hungry. I yell.

Rayelle wipes her mouth, looking at her finger before putting her lips to it; sweat beads on her nose and underneath her eyes. “I thought you were dead?”

I can’t speak

“Why are you here? Go die already,” as the masked man ate what was hot on the griddle. My mouth opens, but still, nothing comes out. Rayelle takes off her shirt while walking toward me, putting her breasts in my face; holding skin to my piece of scalp to skull, she pulled back, slapping me across the face, before taking a couple of steps up.