Tori

“Tori! Victoria!” I screamed, running down the dark, damp hallway. At least two feet of water had flooded in. From where, I didn’t know. Sharp raindrops stabbed at my skin, but in the hallway I knew that was impossible. I couldn’t think about that though. All I could think about was finding Tori. As I ran, I created little images in my mind of Tori; to be sure I could remember what she looked like. To be sure I would recognize her when I saw her. I felt certain she would find Tori behind the door at the end of the hall, if she ever made it there. But thinking like that never helps desperate situations so I replaced the thought with an image of Tori and I standing side by side, but the last time we’d been that close was almost two months ago, before Tori went missing. We look so much alike, Tori and I. I suddenly stopped, frozen.

“But I am Tori.” I whispered to myself. I stood perfectly still, but the door seemed to move toward me. The hallway, the water, the piercing rain, all faded as I stood staring at that door. Confused, yet curious, I placed my hand on the doorknob. I felt a bit of panic well up inside as she slowly turned the doorknob, hearing it click. Gently, I pushed on the door, but it flew open with so much force it blew off the hinges. I stood, staring at the unexpected scene before me.

A body was sprawled out in the center of the floor, surrounded by a pool of deep crimson blood. The body, a girl of maybe 19 or 20, looked oddly familiar. Light brown hair, green-gray eyes, pale skin. I stepped closer, my panic faded into a calm feeling I was almost certain I should not be able to feel when staring at a dead girl. Slowly I knelt beside the body, placing my hand, palm down, into the blood. It was cold; almost as if it’d been refrigerated. I raised my other hand and carefully ran my fingertips across the girl’s face. I imagined the girl was only sleeping and tried not to wake her.

As I stared, I started to recognize things, similarities between myself and the dead girl. Her eyes were the same blue-gray color, and her hair was the same length, and may have been the same color as well. I couldn’t quite tell, because it had been tinted red with blood. I noticed a line of stitches on the girl’s face. I traced them with my fingers, following them down the side of her face and neck, where they disappeared under her shirt. Even though I felt it was wrong, like I was violating the girl, I ripped the front of her shirt open. The stitches continued down her body and disappeared just under her belly button. The stitches seemed to disintegrate beneath my fingertips as they followed them, leaving the open wounds, which began to bleed. I drew my hand back, not understanding how a girl who was so clearly dead could bleed. I stood, and to my surprise, she stood as well. But the eerie calm didn’t subside. I knew this girl. I’d met her before, but couldn’t remember when.

I raised my left hand, to touch the girl again. My action was mirrored exactly. I dropped my hand. Staring at the girl in front of me, I finally recognized who it was. Victoria. That girl was me. I turned to run, but the bloody version of myself grabbed me, pulling me down to the floor. We fell hard, straight through the blood stained floor, into a blue-black spinning vortex that made me dizzy.

I looked at my dead self, stared into her eyes. Watching them turn from blue-gray to red. Her face twisted into a crooked grin and a sadistic laugh broke through the eerie silence. As we fell, I felt sharp fingernails dig deep into my arms. Fresh blood oozed out around the nails. A hot, painful sensation ran through my arms and I fought back a scream. The pain grew as the nails dug further into my arms. They dug in so deep that her fingertips slipped into the wounds. She seemed to get a bit of pleasure from this, so she pressed harder, forcing her fingers into my arms. I screamed in pain, wanted to rip the fingers out of her hard and lean off the hands holding me. But I couldn’t move. I glared into those red eyes for a moment, thinking. I needed to get free. After a moment, an idea crept into my head. Staring at those red eyes, I twisted my arms around and grabbed her arms and pulled my nails down hard across her skin. More blood bubbled out.

I had hoped this would hurt her, but her smile proved otherwise. This didn’t hurt her, it pleasured her. I closed my eyes, almost ready to admit defeat. I didn’t know what else to do. My head filled with images of this girl, this dead version of myself, letting me go, pulling apart. When I opened my eyes, what I saw surprised me. As I envisioned this girl pulling apart, bit by bit, she did. Her skin tore away from her body. Her smile faded, eyes filled with fear. I felt the pain she felt, but forced myself to concentrate. Kill her, if that was possible. All at once, she blew apart, pieces of flesh and bone flying in all directions. I screamed. Then I woke up.