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I take a few steps and pass an open window, the cool breeze causing goose bumps to spread across my naked body. What? Why I am nude? I never sleep without my pajama bottoms, red plaid, i remember being teased about them, because I never spent the night anywhere without bringing them along. I know, it is rather silly for a thirty-seven year old man to have such a security blanket, but nonetheless they bring me comfort. I wish I had them now. I quickly move away from the open window, hoping no one happened by and saw me in my birthday suit.
I look around for any trace of my clothing, nothing, there’s not even a misplaced sock lying about. I spot the dresser and begin to dig through. Hopefully whoever lives here wont be too upset that I am borrowing their clothes. The first drawer was filled with women's undergarments, some plain some skimpy. Did I meet someone last night? I open the drawer next to it and find it full of men's boxers. I prefer briefs, but at this point I am not going to complain. I grab a pair and slip them on, then pause. If I met someone last night, why are there men's clothing here that are obviously not mine. Is she married? Has a boyfriend? Am I the boyfriend? What gives?
I let out a sigh and run my fingers through my hair, it’s short. What happened to my long hair? I've been working so hard at trying to grow it out, it was down to the middle of my back and I always kept it in a pony tail. Did I drink too much last night? No, that's not like me. I don't even like to drink, much less get so drunk I cannot remember the night's happenings.
My heart is pounding in my chest, my breathing short and rasping. Oh no, my asthma. I search the room for my medication. Where is it? I never leave home without my inhaler. Okay, something must have happened, just calm down and try to take deep breaths. That's it, just calm down. My heart begins to settle as the panic attack subsides.
I suddenly feel sick to my stomach and race towards what seems to be the bathroom door, luckily I was right. I just barely made it to the toilet just as my stomach heaved out its contents. Feeling better now. I head to the sink and rinse out my mouth. Something catches my eye. I look down at my left hand and the gold band encircling the ring finger. What the hell happened last night? I am not a married man!
At this moment I catch my reflection in the mirror. Panic and horror set in. Who is this person looking back at me?! That is not my face! Those are not my brown eyes looking back! That is not my short, curly black hair, that is not my nose! I claw at my face, desperately trying to tear off this fake flesh. My finger nails dig deeply into this false image, trails of blood flow down in rivers. Good, I will bleed this image! I want my face back! I want myself back! Who the fuck are you?! I smash my fist into the mocking image staring at me. The glass shatters, the shards slicing the hand. That's it! That is how I will rid myself of this terror before me! I grasp a long piece of the mirror in my hands and begin to carve away the face of this impersonator. I know that it is fake because I feel no pain as I peel flesh from bone.
Suddenly my vision begins to blur. I feel dizzy, tired. I try to continue with my task but fall to the cold unfamiliar floor. I can no longer see anything, everything is black. I can still hear though, but that too is fading fast. I hear soft footsteps entering the bathroom, followed by woman’s scream. Then nothing.
Stranger
My eyes open to strange surroundings. Where am I? The mattress I lay in feels foreign. The air I am breathing tastes out of place. Neither sight nor smell triggers anything in my mind. I pull myself from the blanket strewn bed, those colors; blues and tans mingling together in striped patterns confuse me further. I would never choose those. I prefer deep reds and blacks to wrap myself in while resting. My feet touch the floor and recoil at the feel of soft carpet. My own house has hardwood floors, slightly rough. I need to sand them when I get back, but first I must figure out where I am and how I even got here.
I take a few steps and pass an open window, the cool breeze causing goose bumps to spread across my naked body. What? Why I am nude? I never sleep without my pajama bottoms, red plaid, i remember being teased about them, because I never spent the night anywhere without bringing them along. I know, it is rather silly for a thirty-seven year old man to have such a security blanket, but nonetheless they bring me comfort. I wish I had them now. I quickly move away from the open window, hoping no one happened by and saw me in my birthday suit.
I look around for any trace of my clothing, nothing, there’s not even a misplaced sock lying about. I spot the dresser and begin to dig through. Hopefully whoever lives here wont be too upset that I am borrowing their clothes. The first drawer was filled with women's undergarments, some plain some skimpy. Did I meet someone last night? I open the drawer next to it and find it full of men's boxers. I prefer briefs, but at this point I am not going to complain. I grab a pair and slip them on, then pause. If I met someone last night, why are there men's clothing here that are obviously not mine. Is she married? Has a boyfriend? Am I the boyfriend? What gives?
I let out a sigh and run my fingers through my hair, it’s short. What happened to my long hair? I've been working so hard at trying to grow it out, it was down to the middle of my back and I always kept it in a pony tail. Did I drink too much last night? No, that's not like me. I don't even like to drink, much less get so drunk I cannot remember the night's happenings.
My heart is pounding in my chest, my breathing short and rasping. Oh no, my asthma. I search the room for my medication. Where is it? I never leave home without my inhaler. Okay, something must have happened, just calm down and try to take deep breaths. That's it, just calm down. My heart begins to settle as the panic attack subsides.
I suddenly feel sick to my stomach and race towards what seems to be the bathroom door, luckily I was right. I just barely made it to the toilet just as my stomach heaved out its contents. Feeling better now. I head to the sink and rinse out my mouth. Something catches my eye. I look down at my left hand and the gold band encircling the ring finger. What the hell happened last night? I am not a married man!
At this moment I catch my reflection in the mirror. Panic and horror set in. Who is this person looking back at me?! That is not my face! Those are not my brown eyes looking back! That is not my short, curly black hair, that is not my nose! I claw at my face, desperately trying to tear off this fake flesh. My finger nails dig deeply into this false image, trails of blood flow down in rivers. Good, I will bleed this image! I want my face back! I want myself back! Who the fuck are you?! I smash my fist into the mocking image staring at me. The glass shatters, the shards slicing the hand. That's it! That is how I will rid myself of this terror before me! I grasp a long piece of the mirror in my hands and begin to carve away the face of this impersonator. I know that it is fake because I feel no pain as I peel flesh from bone.
Suddenly my vision begins to blur. I feel dizzy, tired. I try to continue with my task but fall to the cold unfamiliar floor. I can no longer see anything, everything is black. I can still hear though, but that too is fading fast. I hear soft footsteps entering the bathroom, followed by woman’s scream. Then nothing.