I'm alone.
I'm alive, I'm alone, and my friend who is banging at the door died 20 minutes ago.
I have no idea what to do. I'm scared. All that blood. Black blood crawling under his skin and then purging out. It looked like a road map of veins inking its way up to his head before he threw up blood all over our apartment. It seemed like gallons of it swimming out of him. Black blood and guts. His black bile insides. It smelled putrid, instantly.
This all happened after he had walked through our door desperately palming a neck wound. He said he was bitten. Then he died. I'm sure that he was dead. His heart stopped. That's when his veins turned black from the inside out.
At least I'm sure that I thought he was dead. I'm sure I did not feel a pulse. Whether he died or no, I suppose I'm unsure. Seeing as he is outside our bathroom door right now and I'm stuck inside. Right before he went or changed I heard him say,
They're coming.
I'd only seen one dead body before today. Some homeless guy early one morning didn't make it through the night. I only remember one thing about how he looked. His eyes were open and there was nothing to them. Nothing behind them and certainly they were not recognizing anything in front of them. They weren't recording anything. Just reels that once witnessed and now spin and spin and spin.
When Trevor, my roommate woke up, he had black eyes. That black blood found its way. Those eyes had no more life than the those of that homeless dead man I saw. But he was awake. Awakened and seemed to be drawn to me, though you wouldn't know by his eyes. The empty reels were spinning behind them. But slowly he drew towards me. Clamping those teeth at me. He walked slow and I couldn't stop him from coming after me.
He repelled me. I retreated. Then he threw up so more. Black insides liquefied and dying to get out of him. My eyes watered from the smell. He paced reaching out and I fell into the bathroom. Laying on my back, it was all I could do to kick the door shut and cry while I held off his attempts to get in with my outstretched legs.
I called the cops. Busy. Busy? Parents aren't answering and neither is my girlfriend. The lines seem to be all tied up. I just get an unholy automated woman saying sorry she can't put my call through. But what she is really saying is "you're alone and there is no one coming to help you."
I tried sending some texts and they went through, but I thought the best thing I could do was post on my blog. Someone will see it and they will send help. I'm warding off Trevor's relentless attempts to get through the door with my legs. I'm scared to death and I'm writing for help. I'm too scared to move. Please come.
Are you out there?
Jack
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