Chapter 10: Queasy I don't understand. My life went from rom com to horror in five seconds flat. It started as a romantic afternoon with Luke. We were kissing and reminiscing about our childhoods and Al the ice cream truck driver. Now the only ice cream I see in my future is when I-scream. OK, this is not the time for jokes Millie, I scolded myself. I may be going crazy. Or I may already be crazy... That would explain so much. I squeezed my eyes shut, counted to three, and opened them again. Bloody jersey still there. So I'm not hallucinating. Damn. I was frozen in the hallway. My bag had slipped from my shoulders and landed with a thud next to my feet. This was a real situation. I'm not dreaming, I'm not hallucinating. This is real. My eyes zoned in on the jersey. It was scrunched up and hanging over my brass doorknob. Blood dripped from the shirt to the carpet like teardrops. I could recognize the basketball jersey as one from our school team – I've seen Luke in it enough times to recognize it. "Breathe," I told myself, speaking out loud now. Now that reality was the only option, I realized just how long it takes me to react. I mean, my reflexes have never been my strong suit. I forced out all the scary thoughts. The whose blood is this? Is someone hurt? Is someone about to hurt me? I need to move. I need to do something. Time has been rolling and I have not moved an inch. Instead, I'm having the longest conversation with myself in my head. "Help," I squeaked. Maybe a pigeon would've heard me. They have really good hearing, right? Not the point. I took three steps back and my legs felt like lead. Ooh boy, was I in trouble. With shaky hands, I knelt to the ground and unzipped my bag. I rummaged for my phone while my eyes stayed fixed on the jersey and ultimately pulled it out. There was only one person I could think to call. I just hoped he'd pick up. The phone rang. On the fourth ring, he picked up. His voice breezed through the phone: "Changed your mind about knocking boots?" I... He could sense the tension on the call. "Minnie? What's wrong?" "There's..." I exhaled and tried again, "I..." I don't know why the words weren't coming to me. I guess I was scared to verbalize what I was seeing. It would make it infinitely more real. "Stay there. I'm coming over," he said and hung up. Thank you. I exhaled a sigh of relief. I felt better already knowing that Luke was coming over. This situation had made me scared and vulnerable and I feel like he's a source of confidence and strength. Then I remembered something. Flora was here. I stood up and left the contents of my backpack sprawled across the hallway. My hands gripped the banister as I peered downstairs. Flora was sitting on our green sofa, with her laptop on her lap and the TV on in front of her. Her hair was wet and wrapped in a towel on top of her head. She was eating Cheetos. "Um..." I coughed to clear my throat, "Flora?" She didn't respond. Her head bobbed and I realized that she had earphones in. With the sound of the TV and the music in her earphones, there was no way she would hear me. The front door knocked – and I knew who that was. I was about to run downstairs when he realized that our front door was unlocked and strolled in. Seeing Luke at the hallway of our door sent the bag of Cheetos flying out of Flora's hands. Her laptop flopped off her lap and onto the couch and she whipped her hair out of the towel. I've never seen anyone react so quickly to anything before. Luke was taken aback. He kept his distance as he walked round the back of the couch and towards the staircase. "Luke Dawson!" she exclaimed, following him around the back of the couch, "You're in our house! Do you want to stay for dinner? We can invite some of your-" "Minnie," Luke exhaled, seeing me staring down at them from the second floor. "Oh, wrong house," Flora sighed sadly, "No Minnie here." We both ignored her as Luke bolted up the stairs, two steps at a time. He wrapped his strong arms around me, and I buried my head into his chest, wishing, wishing that I never had to look up. Being with Luke was like a dream. Why did reality have to be this way? "Millie? Luke? What are you up to?" Flora asked, running up the stairs after him. Her music was playing in the background, so was the TV and whatever else she was doing. There was so much noise. "Luke," I whispered, and slowly raised my finger. I pointed at my door. My bedroom door, the room where I slept every night... was violated. Luke was staring intently at me, trying to understand what had made me this way. Just ten minutes ago, we had been laughing and kissing in the front seat of his car. Now... He looked down at my finger and then followed where it was pointing to. The. Blood. On. My. Doorknob. "AHHHHHH!" A high-pitched scream startled us. We both spun around, and Luke's arm gripped me tighter. Who the- Flora was staring at my bedroom door, screaming an octave higher than eagle's screech. So she didn't know then. The jersey dripped blood. How much blood does this thing have? Will it ever stop dripping?! Each drop terrified me because it was one more drop out of someone's body... "Please tell me that's ketchup," Flora leaned against me, feeling very faint. Oh yeah, she gets queasy around blood and needles. Luke let go of me and went towards it, "What the f-" The door slammed against my bedroom wall as Luke kicked it open. Both my sister and I jumped. Luke walked into the room without any fear. If anything, he looked p*ssed. "Be careful," I warned, running forwards to help him. There could be an axe-wielding murderer in my bedroom! Or a psychotic criminal hiding behind my stuffed animals. And he just strolls in- "Millie!" my sister screamed. Honestly, her screams are worse than a key scraping against a car. I realized why she was screaming. I had just stepped into the pool of blood. Oh! No, no! I hopped around, trying to shake my shoe off me without touching the blood. My sister looked even more queasy now and hurried towards the nearest window. She shoved it open and stuck her head out to breathe fresh air.