☰ James Knew

James knew he never should have slept with that woman. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something had been off about her when she’d decided, (without any “convincing”), to go home with him Saturday night. James wasn’t a good looking guy by any means, but the girl he’d left the bar with, Kate, had been. Oh, she’d been so beautiful, James knew in his heart of hearts that somehow, there would be a catch. A price he would pay for actually getting what he wanted without any “extra help”. But, beggars can’t be choosers, and if James knew anything, he knew that.

Sunday morning, when he woke up alone in his bed, he wasn’t surprised. Actually, he was relieved. He didn’t know if he could’ve faced the look of regret on Kate’s face once the beer goggles were off, among other things.

He was hungover from the night before, so the first thing he did was make his way to his kitchen for a bottle of water and several aspirin. James rubbed his temples and when he ran his hand through his hair, his fingers came back red, gooey and coated with what little hair he had left. James yelped and ran to the bathroom at once, praying that he was hallucinating. He wasn’t. His hair was falling out in chunks. Some patches were still attached to his scalp, and that was falling off too.

James stood there, looking in his bathroom mirror, hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with fear as his foggy brain tried to figure out what to do. He decided to get to the hospital as soon as possible, but as he was grabbing his car keys, he lost two fingernails. He coughed out a molar (that he nearly swallowed) on the elevator down to the parking garage of his building.

When he got to his car, his reflection told him that his nose was bleeding, along with his eyes and ears. All he could taste was copper. James ignored this, holding out hope that he could make it to the emergency room before he completely fell apart, but for James, there was no such luck. He struggled with his car door handle, his fingers numb and swollen, bloody and peeling; when a feminine voice rang out behind him.

“James!” Kate cooed behind him. “Do you need some help?” Her silky voice mocked him.

“No!” he bellowed, his words echoing off the cement walls of the car garage. “You did this to me! You’re making me fall apart! Why?!” James snapped, losing a few teeth in the process of yelling at her.

James tried to use his wrists to open the driver’s side door, but it was no use. Kate seemed to glide closer to him with every passing second. She held up the bag of roofies from his nightstand and dangled them in front of James’ face.

“I think you know why.” She said with a smile.

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My novel, Trigram, is in the works, but in the meantime, I'll probably be working on short stories such as the ones on Wicked Shorts. (Wink)

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