2|Morning Aftermath

Sunlight crept into the room and bathed the walls in a buttery glow. The light exposed a chamber that was far gloomier than it appeared at night. Pencils, stencils, pens, markers, and stickers fanned out from an ochre-colored cup that fell on the floor the night before. Several sheets of paper lined the wall. Some of the pages fell into the gaps between the baseboard and the floor. These voids were large enough for any insect or small rodent to come and go as it pleased.

At the door, one half of a Trapper Keeper leaned against it with a single page fluttering off an open ring. There was a hardy knock at the door that closed the Trapper Keeper. When the knock went unanswered, the door pushed open as far as the hook-lock extended. The thick brow above the eye glaring through the door raised sharply when it spied Emily lying face down. When Emily shifted subtly, the brow relaxed. “Girl, you could see this mess from outer space. Put that culo in gear and come open this door.”

There was a deep groan from the bed as Emily slowly sat up and looked over her shoulder. Struggling to see beyond her crusty eyelids, she sighed. “Give me a minute,” she said while rubbing the guck from her eyes. The state of the room only made Emily moan louder before she collapsed again. She rubbed her head, trying to knead out a throbbing headache. “Damn...what the hell happened here?”

“That type of language will buy you a first-class ticket to hell. Now open this door, playtime is over.”

“As you can see–I just woke up! Give me a minute for the feeling to return to my legs before you start barking orders.”

“I got your bark right here,” said the woman as she kicked the door.

“That type of attitude will get you nowhere in life, Sister. Will you look at that, my arm is all wet. Now that’s not good.”

Emily found herself lying in a large crimson stain. She brushed two fingers across a damp spot and drew back red tips. There was nothing odd about the smell when she sniffed her fingers. Emily’s tongue slipped out as her fingers dropped to her lips for a taste. Before the tip of her tongue lashed her fingers, the door nearly burst off its hinges, ripping the crude lock off the doorframe. Emily’s eyes dragged over her shoulders, glaring at the woman that just broke down her door.

The woman was five-foot-nothing with good shoulders, a stout neck, and large breast perched on a boxy frame. Her face was round and kind with eyes shaped like matching sunsets. She wore a veil over a purple jogging suit with kneepads. Everybody got a kick out of those infamous kneepads. They were the subject of countless discussions and theories.

“Sister Silva, you’re knee pads are dirty,” Emily said as she began picking papers off the ground.

“Oh, don’t you start with me. Don’t think I don’t know what you girls are giggling about. The only man I service is the Lord above, thank you.”

“I know that’s right Sister,” Emily said while snapping her fingers in S-formation.

“You know I don’t play that. Now, hurry it up with them papers, I’m on the clock. What the hell happened here anyways...? An was you about to lick that red stuff...? Look up es-stupid!”

Emily looked up and saw an exposed pipe. It was so badly corroded that the rusty water that dripped from it looked like blood. When she looked past the stain on her bed, she noticed bits of pocked plaster scattered across her tattered sheets.

“You’re going to lick that?! You’re too cute to act like we don’t feed you, puta!”

“You kissed your mom with that mouth?”

“Every damn day,” Sister Silva said. The two laughed as Emily stuffed some pages in her Trapper Keeper and tossed it on the desk. She ran her fingers over the splintered gouges where the hook-lock was.

“Guess I’ll get out your way so you can start my room service. Maybe you can even fix my lock.”

“Oh, you madre pu—”

Emily pecked Sister Silva on the cheek and the nun lost all train of thought.

“Thank you, Sister. If nobody says it, thank you for everything you do.”

Sister Silva’s shoulders eased as she hugged Emily.

“Thank you, dear. I better see your ass at mass.”

Emily crouched down and picked up the hook-lock then placed it on the desk. “Don’t forget to fix my lock,” Emily said before leaving the room.

The unforgiving floor sent a bolt of ice up Emily’s leg as soon as she stepped into the hallway. Walking on downturned bridges, she waddled down the hall with arms folded. Her vigorous arm rubbing could spark a fire and Emily would gladly welcome flames over this. She only took a few steps down the hall when a door opened and snatched her inside.