Came Back Haunted (Experiment in Terror #10) - Karina Halle Page 0,65

not thinking properly earlier. At least the walk home is short. I want nothing more than to crawl into comfy pajamas and curl up under the covers, waiting for Dex to defrost.

I quickly strip and then turn on the water, doing that awkward waiting thing, shivering just out of the spray while the water slowly heats up. While I don’t wear a ton of makeup, I’m actually pretty vain about my hair, so I refuse to wash it here considering the shampoo and conditioner they provide is pretty awful and leaves your strands like straw.

Finally the water gets warm enough and I get under the stream, careful not to get my hair wet.

Over the sound of the shower, I hear the door to the locker room swing open.

But I don’t hear anyone walk inside.

Odd.

Maybe it was a janitor checking to see if someone was in here.

I go back to showering, pumping some shower gel into my hand, when I hear the stall door next to me open and then lock. The person has quiet footsteps. Of course, there are four shower stalls in a row, so I don’t know why they had to pick the one next to me.

They turn on the shower, the hiss of their water joining mine, and I start rinsing the soap off of me, watching the suds go down the drain, round and round.

Blood red water flows across from under the stall, almost touching my toes.

I flinch, instinctively backing up against the wall.

For a second I think I might be bleeding, though I won’t have my period for another week, then I realize the blood is coming from the other shower.

I try not to feel disgusted—maybe she has her period—but there is a pretty decent depression in each stall, so there’s no way the water could flow over to me unless their drain is clogged.

And as that thought goes through my mind, I watch as more blood flows over from the other stall.

I gasp and quickly step out of the water, avoiding it just in time, my heart pounding so hard it’s shaking me.

“Are you okay?” I ask the person, my voice echoing in the room.

I listen, but all I hear is the shower running and all I see is the red flowing over from the space underneath the stall, going down my drain.

Oh my god, this isn’t good. What if they really hurt themselves?

“Hello?” I ask.

I’m about to crouch down and look to see through the gap when suddenly a pair of feet appear at the side of the stall, facing my direction.

I stare at the feet for a moment, the sense of dread inside me deepening. The feet are familiar to me somehow, ghostly white with black cracks in the skin, broken toenails. Blood runs down the legs in never ending rivers.

Then one foot disappears.

Then the other.

The metal on the side of the stall pops out, as if someone is pushing on the other side.

I automatically look up to the top of the stall, just in time to see a long white arm reaching over the top and the tip of a black head rising, about to pull itself over.

I scream.

I scream bloody murder and turn on a dime, nearly slipping on the slick floor, my hands flying to the stall door lock.

It won’t open. It won’t unlock.

Of fucking course it won’t!

“Help!” I scream, trying desperately to open the door, banging on it, trying to rip it off the hinges. “Please, someone help me!”

I hear a wet thump behind me.

She’s in the stall with me now.

The water splashes.

There’s cold breath at the back my neck.

I won’t turn around.

I won’t turn around.

Finally, I hear the door to the locker room swing open, footsteps, shouts, and then a woman is pulling the door open and I nearly fall out into her arms, totally naked.

“What happened?” she asks, holding on to me. “Oh dear me.”

But I can’t even form words. Even if I could, it would do me no good to tell the truth.

Because when I look back at the shower, everything is normal, the door slowly swinging shut.

The water is running.

There’s no Samantha Poe.

And there is no blood.

But I know what I saw.

“I…” I say eventually, my panic mixing with embarrassment as another gym member steps into the room, eyeing me with concern. I manage a fake smile. “I’m so sorry. I have panic attacks. The door wouldn’t open…”

“That’s okay, honey,” the woman holding me says, her voice warm. She gives the other girl a