I drive frantically down the street not even bothering to glance up to check if the street light is green. It doesn't matter that much though, I tell myself, because of the time of night. I really see almost no cars at all, one person honked at me when I went through an intersection but I really didn't care. I reach over to the passenger seat and open the compartment and pull out a handful of napkins and press them to my right arm to slow the bleeding. I can't feel the scratch wounds on my arm but I know they must be there because I saw them with my own eyes. My right arm rests across my lap as I drive. I glance in the back mirror and look behind me. I look horrible. My makeup is running all down my face and smeared around my eyes. I don't see any cars in the mirror so I press the brake and feel myself jolt forward as the car comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the road. I reach for the light on the ceiling of the car between the two front seats. The light flashes on and I am blinded by its brightness for a few moments.
When my vision comes back everything is a little blurry and I see the red of my purse and reach across the seats to pull it up. I open the purse and feel around for my phone. I pull it out and press the power button on the side. It doesn't turn on and I begin to panic and press the button a few more times before I smack it on the dashboard. I turn it around and notice a large crack going from the top right corner all the way down to the bottom left. It must be dead or something and I left my charger in the stupid store. I throw the phone back into my purse on the passenger door.
"Fuck!" I scream. I press my head into the headrest and force my eyes shut. Images of the old woman fill my mind the second my eyes close and hear the words she whispered. I hear the footsteps and the force in which she grabs my arm. My eyes flick open and I can not believe what just happened. I reach my hands up and cover my face with them. It occurs to me that I have a gushing wound on my arm and bring my arm down to examine it. As I place my arm on my lap and look at my arm with shock. There is no blood, no wound, not even the trace of a cut on my arm. My arm begins to shake even more than it was as I come to the realization that there is no cut on my arm. The only thing there is a handful of napkins splattered across my lap they are still plain white and unused. I know it was there. I am not crazy. I trace the fingers of my left hand across my arm. The underneath of the fingernails on my left hand are full of skin and blood. I hold both my hands up to the light to ensure I am not imaging either. It doesn't make sense. It actually doesn't make any sense at all. What is going on? Millions of thoughts and ideas run through my mind as I try to comfort myself but all of them leave me unsettled. What am I going to do? I check my mirrors again and see a car approaching in my rear view mirror. I pull myself together enough to drive with a little more sense than a few moments ago. I put the car in drive and go. Go where, I don't really know. I run the idea of going to the cops but they'd probably think I'm crazy... Am I crazy? Am I going crazy? Should I go back and investigate? No that's a bad life choice so that's also going to be a no. I cannot go to work on Monday, but I am so thankful I don't have to go in tomorrow.
I decide on just going home. I need to figure out what just happened before I do something I might regret. I pull into the driveway of my house and turn the car off. I sit and try to get my breathing and heartbeat back to some sort of normal pattern. I pick under my nails on my left hand. I pick them raw until each fingernail is down to the base and nothing is left under them. I reach across the chair into my purse and pull out a makeup mirror and some makeup wipes. I look much worse than I thought I did when I looked through my back mirror. My eyes look tired and makeup is just everywhere across my face. It's more a mix or makeup and tears and probably some snot too. I look away and just use a wipe to get rid of some of the mixture that is on my face before I look back in the mirror again. When I look back into the tiny mirror my appearance has improved significantly and the only thing that remains the same is the tired in my eyes and the terrified look on my face. I have never seen this look before. I can't seem to get it off. I try a fake smile in the small mirror but my eyes still show the terrified expression. I take a breath and pick up all of my bags and open the car door. I close the door and look up at my home. It is combined with a bunch of other houses and the brown paint flicks away. It is a two bedroom one bath. I plan to move out of the house soon with as good as the dress store has been doing, hopefully by late summer early fall. I step up to the front door and put the keys in the key hole. I take a deep breath and try to compose myself before opening the door.
