by: Lorelaine Otero Díaz
The taste was very real. That made her even more scared. The warm, wet piece of flesh in her mouth was not as soft as she thought it would be, or should be. Her vision was foggy. She could distinguish figures, silhouettes and shades of colors, but no matter how much she tried, she could not focus. She gasped for air, trying to control herself, and then came the stench. She thought of running away from it, but the putrid smell seemed to come from her, from her nose, her own breath. "What's happening?" She felt something sliding slowly down her cheek and tried to touch her face. Her hands didn't respond. In fact, her whole body seemed to move on its own, out of control. She was out of balance, staggering forward, not knowing where to or what for. She tried to squint and take a look at her hands. All she could hear around her were these animal-like sounds, crunching, chewing, growls and moans. "What's wrong with me?" Desperate and still tasting the blood on her tongue, she opened her mouth to scream and opened her eyes.
The room was still dark and a light breeze was coming in through the window. She turned on her side and reached with her hand under the sheets. She snuggled against the cold body next to her, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and went back to sleep.
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