by Amy Cross
“Huh,” I mutter, feeling more than a little shell-shocked. After a moment, I look back over at the window and watch as snow continues to fall, and then I glance at the bathroom door.
I blink.
And now the door is open.
I swear, the whole time I was talking to Jude, the bathroom door was shut. I even heard someone splashing about in there, but now the door is a couple of inches ajar. The light is still on, but there's nothing else to suggest that anyone is in there.
I pause, considering whether or not I should go and knock, but finally I lean back against the wall. There's no way anyone came out when I wasn't looking, so I guess whoever's in there is just finishing up.
Several minutes tick past, with not a sound in the entire B&B. The whole place seems completely still and lifeless. Even the bathroom.
I glance at the door again.
A normal person would knock. A normal person would start coughing loudly, to hurry the occupant along. A normal person wouldn't just stand here like a moron, hoping to get into the bathroom.
Still, I should probably just wait. There's no harm in being patient.
Suddenly spotting movement, I turn and see that someone is coming down the stairs from the floor above. A woman steps into view, with long hair hanging down almost to her waist. She makes no sound, not even as her bare feet pad against the thick carpet, but then she stops as soon as she sees me. For a moment, she seems utterly startled by my presence, and I can't help noticing that she looks very pale, with ashen grayish skin and ice-white eyes. And then, just as quietly as she came down, she starts slowly backing up the stairs again.
“I'm just waiting for the bathroom,” I tell her, forcing a smile. “I won't be long.”
Keeping her eyes fixed on me, she withdraws into the shadows at the top of the stairs, and then she's gone.
“I promise,” I add forlornly, but it's too late. I guess she's not the talkative type.
So I wait again.
And I wait.
And I wait.
I don't know how much time passes, but it must be at least ten minutes. I glance at the door a couple more times, hoping to spot some hint of movement, but there's absolutely nothing. More and more, I'm starting to think that maybe someone did come out after all, and somehow I just missed them.
This is silly.
I can't just stand here all night like this, queuing without even know if I'm waiting for anyone. No matter how reluctant I might be to cause trouble, I finally head closer to the door, while still listening out for any hint of movement.
“Hello?” I call out tentatively. “Is anyone in there?”
By the time I reach the door, there's still no answer.
I know gently.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“I'm gonna come in, okay?” I continue. “I'm just gonna open the door. Just be aware of that, okay?”
The last thing I want is to catch someone naked.
I take hold of the door, which thankfully creaks a little. Good. That's a little extra warning. Finally, with a tightening knot of anticipation in my chest, I start pushing the door open. I see the sink, with no-one there, and then I see that the shower cubicle is also empty. Pushing the door further, I see the window and towel rack, and still there's no sign of anyone, and finally I get the door all the way open and I see the bath.
It's empty.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Of course it's empty.
I turn and push the door shut, and then I turn back toward the sink.
And I freeze.
Suddenly there's a woman sitting neck-deep in dark red water, staring at me.
I open my mouth to say something, but the words stick in my throat. It takes a moment before I recognize the woman, with her hair now wet and straggly, as Jude. There's no way she could have made it from her bedroom back into the bathroom without going straight past me, not unless there's some hidden door that I never noticed before. And yet here she is, right in front of me, so obviously she made it in here somehow.
“Sorry,” she says, with a somewhat dreamy tone to her voice. “I didn't think I'd be disturbed this late at night. I promise I won't be much longer. I actually thought I'd be done by now, but it's taking a little more time.”
All I can do is stare at her, and at the calm red surface of the bath water.
“I don't mean to be picky,” she continues, “but would you mind waiting outside until I'm finished? I know it might sound foolish, but I'd like a little privacy for this.”
Still frozen to the spot, I really don't know what I'm supposed to do next.
“Please?” she adds. “And shut the door once you're gone. I don't want anyone else walking in on me. Not during these final moments. I'd like a little peace.”
I pause, before turning and heading back to the door. Once I'm out on the landing, I pull the door shut and stop again, staring down at the rich red carpet. I keep telling myself that I imagined that second encounter with Jude, or that I at least imagined the bloody water, but the image is burned into my mind and I can't force it out, not even when I squeeze my eyes shut. Once I open them again, I find myself still staring at the carpet. Sitting in the bath, Jude seemed so calm and peaceful, and so matter-of-fact about the whole situation. I must have misunderstood.
Yeah, that's it.
Whatever I thought was going on in there, I was wrong. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time I've gotten my social cues all mixed up.
Whatever's going on here, it's my fault.
I lean against the wall again, figuring I should just keep waiting, but the bathroom has once again fallen still and quiet. I can't think about anything other than the red water, and I'm starting to feel more and more convinced that the bath really was filled with blood. I always shy away from any kind of confrontation, but this time I figure that any normal person would go back in and make sure that Jude is okay. Besides, I didn't specifically ask her what she was doing,. What if something's wrong and I could help her? What if she's in trouble and I could save her life?
Taking a deep breath, I head back to the door and knock gently.
“Hello?” I whisper. “Are you... Are you okay in there?”
No reply.
“I just... I saw the water,” I continue, “and I started thinking that maybe...”
I pause.
How should I phrase this? How do you ask someone, politely, if they're committing suicide?
“Do you need help?” I ask finally. “Should I fetch someone or call someone or...”
I wait, but there's still no reply.
The last thing I want is to disturb her, but I'm worried she might have passed out. Reaching down, I rest my fingers on the door handle for a few seconds, weighing up the pros and cons of going back inside. I really, really hope that I'm just misunderstanding the whole situation. After a moment, realizing that I have to at least check on her one more time, I turn the handle and push the door open, and then I step back into the bathroom.
Jude is still in the bath, still staring at me.
“I really won't be much longer,” she says calmly. “I know, it must seem like I'm taking forever. I'm a little surprised myself, but I suppose there's no rule book. If you could just wait outside until I'm done, that'd be grand.”
I stare at the water for a moment.
“What are you...” I swallow hard. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?”
“What are you doing in there?”
“What does it look like?” she asks, as if it's the oddest question she's ever heard in her life. “I'm taking a bath.”
“Yeah, but...”
My voice trails off. I'm starting to feel a rush of panic in my chest, and I think maybe I should just go get someone else to take care of this situation. After all, I've never been much of a people person.
“Life is so tiring,” she says suddenly. “Don't you ever think that? Don't you ever feel like you've been worn down pa
st the point where you can ever go on?”
I swallow again, but this time my throat is dry.
“And don't you ever feel like you've hit a brick wall?” she continues. “Like you're at the end of your tether, and nobody else understands, and you just feel an immense urge to retreat from the world? It's all just too much, too crushing, too destroying, and you're done with it. You want to go away and never have to face all the cruelty again.”
I open my mouth to say something, but still I can't get any words out. All I can do, slowly, is back away to the door. Please don't let this be what it looks like. Please...
“It's too hard,” she adds, with a hint of tears in her eyes now. “It's just too much. Too vicious. Too full of hate. I can't handle the world anymore.”
I shake my head. “This isn't the answer,” I tell her finally, figuring I should say something. “Please... I'm going to get help. I'm going to call an ambulance.”
“An ambulance?”
“Of course,” I reply, even though it's hard to believe she's even conscious after losing so much blood. “Just wait right here and -”
“Where else would I go?”
“I'll be right back,” I add, turning to head out the door, “and -”
“Wait!” she says suddenly. “You don't think I'm -”
I turn back to her.
She stares at me for a moment, then she looks down at the red water, and then she turns to me again and smiles. A few seconds later, the smile becomes a laugh and she lifts her right arm out of the bath, revealing a ragged and torn wrist covered in criss-cross slices. Thick red blood is dribbling from the wound, and I can see hints of white bone deep in the gore.
With her other hand, Jude reaches up and starts tearing at the loose flesh, pulling it aside to reveal more of the bone.
“Well if he did it,” she sneers, her voice filled with anger, “then why don't I get to do it too? I feel bad for the poor boy, but he'll just have to manage!”
“I'll get help,” I stammer, turning to leave the room as she starts laughing. I fumble with the handle for a moment, before glancing back at her. “I'll -”
She's gone.
I stare at the empty bath, but there's no sign of Jude at all. Too shocked to even move, I simply stand completely still and wait for her to reappear, but it's as if she was never here to begin with. My mind is racing as I try to figure out exactly what just happened, but there's only one way in or out of the bathroom and I'm pretty damn sure she didn't come past me. Every explanation I come up with feels wrong, as if I'm hitting dead ends in my mind, and finally I come to the only possible conclusion.
It's impossible.
She can't have been here.
Which means the whole encounter was just in my head. Am I crazy enough to start hallucinating people? I didn't think so, but I guess it's possible that the past few days have gotten to me in ways I never anticipated. Stepping back against the wall, I can't help staring a little longer at the bath, just in case she magically reappears, but as the seconds tick past I realize that she's really, truly gone. Or rather, she was never here in the first place.
I'm cracking up.
“You're cracking up,” I whisper under my breath.
My heart is pounding, but I know I have to get myself back under control. I've been worried for a while that something like this might happen, that the stress would finally break something in my mind. It'd be so easy to panic and run, to grab my suitcase and leave the B&B far behind. I could tell myself that the place is haunted, and I could pretend that these strange apparitions come from the world around me. That wouldn't be true, though. Jude, at least while she was bleeding in the bath, came from my own mind.
I refuse to go crazy.
I want to go back to my room and lock the door, and hide away until morning, but after a moment I realize I should probably make use of the bathroom now that I actually have the place to myself. I'm strong, I'm tough, and I won't crumple at the first sign of madness. Pushing the door shut, I slide the lock across and then head over to the sink, where I set down my toiletry bag and towel.
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I see that I look much the same as I did this morning. I suppose that's a good thing. The day's events haven't taken too much of a toll just yet. I don't look crazy, but I will if I don't pull myself together.
I take a deep breath.
One night, that's all.
I have to stay sane for one more night. Taking another deep breath, I feel my heart slowing something closer to a normal pace. I close my eyes for a moment, counting slowly in an attempt to regain control. Finally, I open my eyes again.
And that's when I see it.
Something's in the bath. Something large. Something on its side at the bottom of the tub.
I continue to stare at the reflection, shocked by what looks like a naked, red-stained male body. It can't be that, of course. I know it can't. The bath was empty a moment ago, and there's no way anyone came into the room. This is just my mind trying again to trip me up.
And yet, as I continue to stare at the bath, I see that there really is a red-stained naked man at the bottom, curled away from me. He's not moving at all, not even shivering despite the coolness of the room. I tell myself that maybe this is some kind of trick, that perhaps he's just a very lifelike model, but something about the body's bloated, pocked flesh looks awfully real to me as I slowly turn away from the mirror and look directly at the bath.
The tub's white sides have been left light pink by sediment from the water, and there's a strong scent in the air, a hint of iron.
Blood.
“This isn't happening,” I whisper. “It's not possible.”
I close my eyes and wait a moment, before opening them again.
He's still there.
I close them again.
I wait longer.
I open them.
He's still there.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes for a third time.
“Go away,” I whisper. “Go... away...”
I wait.
“Please,” I add finally, before opening my eyes again.
He's still there. Of course he is.
Stepping closer to the bath, I lean over the figure until I can see the man's face. His eyes are closed, but the stubble around his chin looks very genuine and I can tell that he isn't breathing. He looks to be in his late fifties at the very least, and there's a faded green tattoo on his upper left arm, although I can't quite make out the lettering. Whatever's going on here, I know I should call the police, but at the same time I can't quite bring myself to do that. Then again, I could just go to the phone-box at the train station and give them an anonymous tip. That way, they could deal with whatever's happening here but I wouldn't have to get involved.
I can't get involved.
The police are already going to be looking for me. The last thing I can afford is to start attracting their attention. Besides, I have to focus on the fact that no matter how real this man looks, he's most likely not here at all. My mind is simply playing tricks on me, and I have to get my thoughts straight.
I take a step back, figuring that -
Suddenly my bare feet slip in a puddle of bloody water. I let out a gasp, but I'm too late to steady myself and I fall back, crashing down to the floor and slamming the back of my head against the tiles with such force that everything immediately goes black.
Three
“Bobbie? Bobbie, you can't sleep here. Bobbie, wake up.”
Opening my eyes, I'm immediately startled by the bright moonlight that's streaming through the window, casting net-curtain patterns across the bathroom ceiling. A moment later, Jude leans over me, still wearing her dressing gown and still clutching her towels and toiletry bag. There's a faint smile on her face, although she also seems a little concerned.
“Was something wrong with your bed?” she asks. “Some of them can be a little lumpy. He hasn't changed the mattresses in years. But you can't sleep in the b
athroom, honey. Other people need to use it.”
She checks her watch.
“It's midnight. Go to bed.”
I stare at her for a moment, before suddenly remembering the man's body in the bath. Sitting bolt upright, I slam my head into the underside of the sink, and I immediately let out a gasp of pain.
“Watch yourself!” Jude continues, taking a step back. “Wow, that sounded like it hurt a lot! I hope you didn't crack your head open!”
Rubbing the sore patch, I get to my feet and look down into the bath, half-expecting to see the red-stained body. Instead, I see that not only is the body gone, but the entire bath and surrounding area appears to have been cleaned, and the smell of blood is gone too. I look over at the window, which remains shut with ice-crystals on the glass, and more snow is falling through the darkness outside. If anything, the weather just seems to be getting worse and worse. Nearby, the shower is still running after I turned it on. Finally, I turn to Jude.
“What's up, honey?” she asks. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”
“Where is he?”
“Where's who?”
“The man!”
She furrows her brow. “What man?”
“The man you left in the bath last night.”
She stares at me for a moment. “I don't have a clue what you're talking about, sweetie-pie,” she says finally. “You didn't bang your head, did you?”
I stare at her, and it takes a moment before I'm able to remind myself that the man wasn't real. He was all in my head.
“Was there anyone else here when you came in just now?” I ask.
“In the bathroom? Of course not. It was just you, silly.”
I look down at the bath again, but there's absolutely no sign that the man was ever here. Even the area around the plug-hole is clear of the red stain, although there are a few flecks of limescale. I honestly don't know how somebody could have cleaned the bath but left limescale behind, especially clean limescale that shows no sign of having been colored red. It's pretty clear that I hallucinated, probably due to lack of sleep.
“So are you done in here?” Jude asks brightly. “Sorry, I just really need to shower!”