SHARED HALLUCINATION

Artwork by Jean Delville         I awoke to pounding at the door. Opening it a crack, I spied Stephanie standing on the porch looking  anxious. Breathing a sigh of relief, I let her in.      “Hey. You weren't answering your phone. I even tried to email you. Jesus, Anabelle,” she exclaimed,  eyeing me up and down. “Are you still wearingthe same clothes from the concert?”       “Yeah. Long story,” I replied, rubbing my eyes and stifling a yawn. “Sorry. I must have forgotten to turn  my phone on.” Glancing over to the far side of the room, I noticed it was still on the charger.      Removing her coat, she sat on the couch. Folding her hands in front of her, she announced, “we have a  problem.”      That woke me up. “What kind of problem?” I asked.      “A porno problem,” she answered. “Haiden's been busy.” “What? But how...?” My heart sank.      “He's ...

  Artwork by Jean Delville           My black motorcycle boots scuffed against the pavement as I rushed up the street. After tossing and  turning most of the night, I hadn't woken up early as planned. Instead, I'd hauled ass to shower and apply  war paint to make the noon appointment Lars had set. At least he'd chosen a nearby café, which was a  small blessing. Catching my reflection in a storefront window, I smiled. In my heavy, black coat, and the  black, hand-me-down dress from Stephanie that fit me to a tee, paired with black tights which hid my  scraped knees, I looked kind of old school tough. But, I didn't feel tough. No amount of fashion or war  paint would dislodge the knot of anxiety firmly embedded within my stomach.      Lars was all smiles and full of Dutch charm when he arrived with Haiden in tow. He kissed me on both  cheeks, while Haiden glowered. Without giving Haiden a second glance, I...

          Standing in the immaculate white bathroom the next morning, I carefully pried my sweater from the  wounds on my arms. I'd been so out of it, I'd fallen asleep in my clothes. Getting the wool unstuck was no  easy task and I bled like a stuck pig. Stuffing wads of toilet paper on the sores, I prayed I wouldn't bleed  all over the alabaster walls and carpet.      The shower shocked some sense into me, and the hot water stung like the seven fires of hell. I almost  welcomed the pain, as it was the first real shower I'd seen in weeks. While scrubbing the mats out of my  hair, I glanced down at the forest growing on my legs, and decided such a momentous undertaking could  wait – they'd have to stay hairy until another day.      After drying off, I went in search of a robe. Hidden deep within the closet of the guest room was a pale  pink satin one. Pretty, but not exactly me, but it would h...