Picking up the pieces - Part 1

Pain...unbearable, mind numbing pain...it flashes through my body like a relentless lightning storm. I open my eyes and try to breathe in, but no air will fill my lungs. I look down and see red bubbles escaping me around a white bone handle sticking out of my chest. A pale hand, I think it is mine, grabs weakly for the handle and pulls it free. A long blade follows it amid a wet, red gush. I am going to die....

My head crashes back against the hard wooden floor and I stare up at the slowly turning fan on the ceiling. The room feels like it is starting to spin as I watch the fan blades circle around and around. I close my eyes again and wait for the pain to give way to the endless sleep. I feel a stretching sensation, like I am being pulled tight like a rubber band. Is this what it feels like to have your spirit pulled from your body?

I feel a twang of release as the tension snaps. I open my eyes wide in shock as air starts to fill my chest again. I look down in amazement at where the knife had been and see only a red area with a thin white scar in place of the hole that I was expecting to find. A sort of nausea washes over me as my lungs try to purge the fluid that had built up over the past few minutes. I roll over and gag, painfully coughing up blood onto the floor.

I wait on hands and knees for the coughing to stop and for my head to start to clear. Where am I? What am I doing here? I look around and see that I am in some kind of old, run-down bar or lounge. The kind you would find in an old motel. This one must not be actively used, based on the peeling wall paint and the numerous missing or burned out light bulbs. Then I see I am not alone...

I jump back from the other body on the floor next to me. He doesn’t react at all. With my back against a cabinet for support, I try to stand. I inch closer on shaking legs and see that he looks dead. Not stabbed to death dead. More like he had a heart attack or stroke or something. There is no blood on him except for mine. Funny thing though, everything about him looks like it has been laying there for ages except for the vial of clear liquid in his hand. Why would anyone put that in the hand of someone long gone?

A broken vision flashes through my head and I double over in phantom pain as I remember the moment I was stabbed. This doesn’t make any sense...that is the guy who attacked me. I can see his face clearly and remember my hand on his neck and jaw, trying to push him away. How did he get so dusty and partly decomposed. I couldn’t have been on the floor bleeding for more than a few minutes. I search the body and find a cell phone. The time stamp feels right. What is going on?

I stand back up and catch a glimpse of myself in a cracked mirror behind the bar. Wait. Who is that girl looking back at me? I wave my hand slowly in front of me and the reflection matches the motion perfectly. It must be me, but I don’t know that face. I am...I live at...who am I? Why am I here? Aaargh! Work, brain, work! I have to get out of here! If someone finds me like this, I have no answers. I am doomed for sure.

I look at the rest of me in the mirror. Tall and thin. Not much in the way of curves. God, I am going to stand out like a sore thumb in a crowd. To make matters worse, my clothes are pretty shredded and nothing Mr. Corpse has on him will fit me. And of course all his stuff is stained with blood, even if it did fit. Ok what else is here? An old waitress apron, ok I can work with that. There has to be something else...ah, a coat room! Well, this old coat is an out of date style and smells like mothballs, but it is better than nothing.

I walk over to the sink to wash up as best I can. There isn’t much water pressure and the thin stream that does come out is a nasty orange-brown in color. The pipes in this place must be rusted up solid. I don’t dare drink from the faucet, but I am able to at least use it to replace the blood on my face, hands, and hair with rusty grime instead.

I pull on the outfit I scavenged as best I can and I suppose I look like a waitress after a long day at work. I will need to find something else fast though. That story won’t hold up for long. I check the dead man’s wallet. No ID, but he did have a decent amount of cash on him. I shove the money into my coat pocket and look around one last time. Nothing else here that stands out as a clue. I walk out the door.

I walk into the sunlight and find that my disguise is not going to work at all, at least not in this town. There is nobody here. It is all run down and abandoned buildings. No way anyone with any sense would live or work here. There is a small highway though and a sign pointing to New York City. Something familiar about that place, but I don’t know why. It is a start at least. Ugh, it is going to be a long walk, but I don’t have anything else to go on. Placing one foot in front of the other, I start walking to where I hope I can find more answers.