The Blood Room | Alternate Endings 1, 2, & 3

† ONE †

Book in my oversized jacket pocket, I make haste to the bathroom around the corner. The jacket is my fiancé's, and he'd given it to me while he went up to where his father lives to find a good paying job. I miss him like crazy, but I've learned to block the pain out. Almost two years of long distance out of our almost four teaches you how, especially when all you can do is divert your attention elsewhere to keep calm and okay. And although I've gotten good at it, I can assure you it sucks.

A lady darts out of the outside mall's restroom around the corner, which is actually quite shady at any other hour without daylight. It's like an alleyway sort of structure. I was half tempted to force my little brother to come along in case something happens, but what could he do? He just turned fifteen and all he does is play video games throughout the day. I pray that if something would happen to either of us, he'd have picked something up from them.

I push the door open with the jacket's sleeve, completely aware of the germs and whatnot now infesting it, half not caring, and walk in. The larger, always luxurious stall is shut, and I decide not to take my chances of checking if someone occupies it. Save myself some embarrassment.

I push open the smaller door adjacent of it, hang his jacket on the hook, and... You can guess the rest. I won't spell it out for you. Once finished, the automatic flusher kicks in and the bowl roars to life. I shrug back into the large jacket, the scent I've come to know and love wafting up to me, and mixing in with smells I'd rather not get to know and love. My nose scrunched up as I shimmy out of the stall and over to the sink, the water washing over my hands, again, automatically. Mom would be so proud of this place with is germ-freeness.

A grunt escapes from the large stall as the water shuts off and I begin to reach for the soap.

The noise wouldn't have startled me as much if it were a woman's.

I freeze, holding my breath as I listen for another sound. Perhaps I'd imagined it and I'm starting to go crazy. After all, this was a woman's bathroom. Right? I didn't walk in the wrong one—I think. Maybe I did. Maybe that woman did too! But it isn't plausible. Plus, urinals are nowhere in sight.

Another grunt echoes from behind the door, followed by some shuffling. A cough. It's a man. It's definitely a man. Holy crud...

The bathroom door opens around the corner, pulling me from my trance. My heart pounds inside me and I can feel my head swarming, unable to keep a straight thought moving in one direction. Whatever is wrong with my brain on a good day is way acting up and is making my hands shake. And whatever it is that makes me different than everyone else must be some sort of chemical imbalance in my mind; I don't think like a normal human being, or at least that's what I've concluded.

But all these scenarios pulsate though my head as I shuffle to the door, gripping the folded holes at the end of the long sleeves and trying not to bite them in anxiety.

Because germs.

"Oof—" I utter as my body collides with another. The woman glares at me, her dark eyes glistening with anger. "S-sorry," I stutter and try to weave past her.

There's another manly cough from the stall as I press my back against the wall to brush past her and leave the bathroom. My throat knots as I reach out for the door to pull open, but my fingers never touch the cool metal.

The woman had caught me by the hood, making me choke on my saliva. This is all too strange, all too weird.

"Um." I peer behind me, my heart in my throat. I wanted to say something smart to her, but I was too afraid. My brain tells me to ask her to let go, but my tongue is tied. So I stand there, wide-eyed and unsure of what's happening.

The woman, whose pale face faces mine completely, seems like any normal woman, except for sharp features and deathly inhuman grip on my fiancé's Pierce the Veil hoodie. The last thing I wanted to do was return it to him damaged—and I know that sounds like an unnecessary thought, but my heart aches when I fall short of someone's expectations. Man, I sound completely pathetic and moronic. I'm a sad, sad human being sometimes.

"What's your name?" The woman flashes a smile so pretty it makes me stumble. I wish I had a smile like that.

"Um," I stammer. "Uh, my name..." It's hard to talk, even harder to swallow.

The woman continues to stare at me, her eyes burning holes in my corneas.

"I've got to go." My voice is barely above a whisper as I try to tug myself away from the strange predicament I've fallen into, but the woman hangs on.

She sighs, seeming almost bored with my struggling. "What is your name, girl?"

"K—Kyla. Kyla Vonemben."

Her head cocks to the side slightly, curiosity striking in her eyes.

"Strange name, kid."

Not letting go of me, she begins to walk back into the body of the bathroom, her brown flats slapping on the gray tile floor. Why is she still holding on?

There's a voice now coming from inside the stall, muttering to himself. My heart leaps into my throat as the man calls out loud enough to echo off the tiles. "Leave me alone."

He goes back to muttering. "I won't go back to the Blood Room, I can't go back to the Blood Room. No one will find me in the Blood Room, no one will locate the Blood Room."

"Please—please let me go," I plead, tugging at the woman's hand. Her skin is cold as ice, startling me. My brain flickers to one idea, one strange concept not materialized in this world, but I shake it away, finally writing myself off as crazy. I've read too many books in the fantasy genre.

I push at her hands as she drags me nearer to the stall. "What are you doing? Hey—hey, let go!"

She shoves the silver stall door and it caves beneath her hand, flying to the ground with a loud clatter. It stops me cold. The crazy idea slivers to the front of my mind once again, and this time I'm less adamant about tucking it away to the crevices of my brain. The man stops muttering at the loud noise and all is quiet except for the ringing in my ears and my heavy breathing. My eyes dare to tear away from the empty half of the stall I can see to snap over to the woman. She's at complete ease. Is she even breathing?

The lights shine off the mirror, but I don't dare look into them. I just might find something I don't want my eyes to be opened to.

God, I pray, please, please help me, I beg, hoping my pleas reach through the clouds and to His ears. Please.

"Ernie," the woman coos as if she's talking to a baby. "I've caught you a little snack."