The Blood on His Lips

As I had thought, I’d been chewed out by none other than Suzy last night, wondering where I’ve been and what’s kept me until after dark. My dad had come to my rescue though, saying that I was probably at the diner again and talking to Zoe. After a glare from the women, she gave in, nodding before heading off, and I had taken that as the cue to go upstairs.

And now, I was still here, in my bed, staying home from school because I didn’t feel like going. I did this a few times a month, whenever I didn’t really feel like getting up and moving around. Today just happened to be a day, so I laid there, music playing softly in the background as I tried to go back to sleep. Or rather, get some sleep. I’d had another nightmare last night. Weird as hell too.

It was the same, with the screams and the blood. But this time, I actually got a look at the guy who had made an appearance one way or another in these dreams. He had short hair, nearly non-existent, but it was there. His eyes were hidden by a pair of aviator sunglasses, and his—
SLAM!

Hey wait a minute! What the hell just happened?!

I was just describing the guy that was in my dream, and then it feels like some… Some kinda wall just slammed down in my head. Now I can’t even remember the damn dream besides the blood and the screams. And that’s the shit I don’t want to remember. To be honest, the screams terrified me. The vocalized fear sounded like it was coming from my friends, my family, people I cared about. Of course, as a guy, I had put up the front that if something bad was going to happen, that something was coming for the people I loved, then I’d do whatever I could to stop it.

I had to put on the brave front. It would hide the fact of how truly scared I was.

So there I lay, for the rest of the day, trying to think about what this guy looked like, until I couldn’t even remember what I was trying to think of anymore. When my head started to hurt I took something for it, and when I walked back into my room, a shiver ran down my spine, and I got an urge to draw. I grabbed my notebook and pencil, sat on my bed and began to work.

I wasn’t even there half the time I was drawing, and I didn’t know exactly what it was until I finished.

I gasped at the fully shaded pair of lips on my page. They seemed to be perfect size, the bottom lip a bit more plump from the top, and from this I could just tell they were a man’s pair of lips. It appeared to be smirking, and an elongated canine revealed itself to me. A small, dark spot decorated the bottom lip, along with the pointed end of the tooth, and I quickly labeled it to be blood.

As freaky as this drawing was, this was one of my best, and I tore it out of the notebook carefully, heading to my wall and sticking it up with a thumb tack. I let my tongue slide over my bottom lip, looking at the drawing. I don’t know what it meant, or if it even meant anything at all.

What I did know, however, was that the lips were hauntingly familiar.