Her Shadow

Lynn fit the key to the lock and slowly pushed the door open. It was very late and the room was dark. Mary, her roommate, must have gone to bed hours ago. Lynn reached for the light switch, thought better of it, and stepped into the room, closing the door quietly. There was no reason to risk waking Mary and it wouldn’t be that difficult to get ready for bed in the dark. A crescent moon was out and its pale light angled into the single window, throwing strange shadows about the room.

She stepped further into the room, feeling for the couch, found it and quietly sat down. Lynn removed her shoes and was about to pull her t-shirt off when the hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she had the strange sensation that someone was watching. Looking around quickly, she tried to probe through the blackness in the deeper shadows, but couldn’t make out any definite shapes and the feeling passed. Shrugging, she giggled nervously.

“Quite spooking yourself.” The words sounded hollow and not at all comforting, even to her ears.

She finished getting undressed and carefully crossed to her bed. She pulled her nightclothes on and lay back, letting the soft covers surround her. Lynn always felt safe in her bed, like it was a sacred place and nothing would dare touch her here. It had been a long day. Her eyes closed, and she thought there probably wouldn’t be any dreams tonight.

But dreams did come. In them a shadow slipped into the room. It was a strange shadow, less a shadow and more a phenomenon of colors that changed and shifted in obscene ways. It crossed the dark room and knelt by Mary’s bed watching her for several moments. A shift, and a piece of the shadow reached out and tentatively brushed Mary’s cheek. In the dream Lynn felt the touch and sudden panic coursed through her dream-mind. It made her want to vomit, to get rid of something within. Then the shadow pulled back and the nausea was gone leaving unease prowling panic’s door.

It moved to a dark corner and sat, waiting. Nothing happened for some time, but then Mary woke and went into the bathroom. Lynn sensed amusement in the shadow as it rose and followed. It stopped in the door and briefly Lynn felt the shadow look back at her. Then the door closed cutting of Lynn’s dream-view. Lynn felt she should remember something and she wanted to cry out a warning, but she was confined to a stationary point, only able to watch. After a time the shadow reappeared. It moved slowly, seeming to have finished what it was about. It made its way almost gracefully to the same dark corner where it had waited. It sat, and faded out of the dream.

Lynn woke early, but Mary’s bed was already empty. Mary was an early riser and liked to take a jog in the morning, so it wasn’t surprising. The bathroom door was closed and Lynn decided that Mary must have gotten up even earlier then usual and was already in the shower.

Lynn moved about the room trying to do something worth while. She picked up the few things lying around from the night before and made her bed, but finally there was nothing left to do but wait. Her eyes roved the room, watching the sun’s rays slowly move across the floor and begin to climb the walls. Then suddenly she realized she hadn’t heard the water turn on or off or, for that matter any sound out of the bathroom. And something else….

That’s strange. The rays had made it to the bathroom door and illuminated a dark stain, just barely visible where it had begun to soak into the carpet. She crossed to the door and knelt. Touching the stain she found it dry, but caked thickly into the carpet. She leaned down, hesitated, than put her eye to the crack at the bottom of the door. Her head jerked up, away, as her brain tried to register, then forget, the scene on the other side. The tile in the bathroom had been off-white, but now, just beyond the door, the tile was a shade of dark red, almost black.

The dream suddenly resurfaced and Lynn fell back with the sheer horror and understanding of the returning dream. She wrestled with the nightmare for what seemed like a long, long time. Trying to forget, make it go away… make it not be true. When she finally slide out of the dream again she was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably, but the memory of it remained. It was true. Oh, God no, not again. No, No, No!

She crawled to the couch and buried her face in the cushion. “No, oh please, dear God let me be wrong.”

She knew she wasn’t, though. It had happened before; the dream coming and the horror afterward. She breathed deep and long trying to get control. Then she slowly rose to her feet and reached one shaking hand out. The door swung wide.

There was blood everywhere. It was smeared across the walls, had flowed and puddled on the floor, and was spread in a greasy coat across the bathtub and sink. There were naked foot prints on the bloody floor and a message dripped on the mirror, “Again and again.” The message was something new and a small flame of hope rose in her chest. Maybe it is different this time.

She leaned into the bathroom, careful to avoid the blood, and looked across the floor into the bathtub. Mary lay in it; only bloody meat now. She still wore her nightclothes though they had been torn wherever the killing instrument had gouged into flesh. Her face was pale, a mix of fear and horror shown in her eyes, and something else… revelation, like she had realized something, but too late.

Lynn slowly turned away from the scene, sobbing lightly. There was only one thing left to do, call the police, and let them handle it. They’d get the person this time; he wouldn’t be running away, not this time. Lynn thought the killer would want to stick close to the scene.

She walked stiffly to the phone and slowly dialed 911, each push of a button taking a force of will.

“Yes, I need the police. A murder, yes, that’s right. Ummm, Lynn Weaver. At the college dorm rooms, room 36. I’m….. I was her roommate. No, I’ll be here, yes.”

She hung up the phone and a sudden urge came over her to get away, away from the blood, the horror. To go somewhere where she wouldn’t be forced to answer a lot of useless questions, but she sat down on her bed instead, controlling. Always controlling it.

The police arrived moments later. The whole police department seemed to storm into her room where they found here like that, sitting stiff and unmoving upon the bed. After the initial sweep of the room two detectives took control and throw all the other officers out into the hall. They began to work over the bathroom. Taking pictures, dusting for prints, gathering all the evidence needed for something Lynn already knew. The taller approached her a couple times, but backed off when he saw the blank stare on her face and found she wouldn’t talk. She guessed they were giving her time to get settled into the idea of what happened, but they inevitably finished and came back with their questions.

The tall one knelt by her feet and his face came into her line of view. The other stood back and to the side watching.

“You want to tell us what you saw.”

She did not respond.

Her eyes focused on his face. He was older, maybe forty, and had a mustache. Wrinkles were beginning to form around his eyes. He reminded her of her father. Was he supposed to, was that part of the plan. To play the father figure, get the shocked and scared to see him as someone trustworthy. His eyes looked so determined, so ready to help that she thought the killer might be able to escape, but then someone laughed.

She turned back and forth hurriedly looking for the source of the mocking sound. The tall detective had stood and backed up. Both where looking at her strangely and suddenly she realized the sound was coming from between her own lips.

She laughed. It was a long and throaty sound that rose in the room and turned every eye in the hall toward her. It echoed off the walls and bounced from eardrum to eardrum, finally to die in a soft whisper of sound that flowed like water and died completely away.

There was complete stillness for a long moment as everyone watched her.

Words came from her lips, but she didn’t know how they had gotten there or how they had formed.

“Good to laugh.” She was startled by the scratchy, deep sound, not her voice. “Again and Again, over and over, and yet I remain.” Just like before but this time the killer wouldn’t get away, this time things would be different. Lynn raised her legs slowly, as if against some unseen weight, and turned on the bed slowly, showing all there, the dried blood that covered the soles of her feet.