I stumbled from the bar my head aching. A blurry screen covered my eyes. A woman stood across the way from me. Her clothes were all black save the pale blue surgical mask that was secured behind her ears. She noticed me almost immediately and her eyes worked me over. With the setting sun, it wasn’t good to be out alone. It was impossible to know what kind of person was lurking in the dark.
I approached her a buzz of alcohol inhibiting my movements. “Do you want to walk with me, ma’am? It’s not safe to be alone this time of night. We could walk to the station.” I said.
She watched me meticulously not answering for a moment. “I’ll walk with you,” She said. Although her mouth was hidden, she seemed to be smiling by way of her brightened eyes. “I’d love to walk with you.” A bag swung by her side as she took a curt step toward me.
I stared at it as we stood face to face. “That’s a large bag, ma’am,” I said. She started toward the station. “Will you be alright? It looks heavy.”
The woman was uninterested in my concern. “It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Her reply was abrupt as she looked at me. Her eyes were ghostly as they met mine; for a moment she didn’t seem human. “I can handle it.”
The alleyway grew dark as we walked. The only light was the thin rays that shimmered from bedroom windows. People safe in their beds. I longed for the light as I walked alongside the woman. She daren’t make a sound as her heels clicked in the emptiness. Even more unsettling was her glances that came in shorter intervals as we walked. Her eyes appeared to be glowing as we made it to the block before the station. Perhaps it was the reflection of the moonlight.
She stopped before reaching it leaving our destination a mere 100 meters away. It was close, but not nearly close enough. “Am I pretty?” The woman asked.
Her question caught me off guard. “What was that?” My hands shook. “What did you say?”
“Am I pretty?” She repeated. Her hands seized my shaking ones. I couldn’t pull myself from her eyes. “I want you to tell me if I’m pretty. It’s not a hard question.”
“Yes, you’re pretty.” What was I supposed to say?
“I want you to answer me and be honest this time.” She placed her fingers on her mask pulling it from her mouth and nose. As the mask fell to her chin my eyes grew wide. “Am I pretty?” Her mouth had jagged slits that drew nearly to her ears. The flesh was raw and red toward the edges with a trickle of blood slipping from the corners. “Tell me if I’m pretty. It’s no worry, right?”
“No… No worry, ma’am.” I said. My hands tightened on her tensely. I was afraid of what the woman might do to me. “You’re pretty ma’am.”
“That’s good.” She said. The woman unsealed the bag at her side procuring a large pair of shears. Each sharp edge was coated in a sheen of red. “I’ll make you just like me.”
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