Showering on the weekend when parents are out for a dinner party is one of the best things that can happen in my repugnant, disgusting, repeating days. The only time when I truly feel emancipated from all the restrictions, that control. Mist rises with a cozy feeling, as if I’m in heaven, with clouds and the soft touch of angels. My body is relaxed, almost floating. The only thing that was off was a bit of flickering light and constant water drop outside the shower booth. The mist silently fills the space.

…

The light weakens. Something isn’t right. Some old, sick, gruesome building that I’m living in. The water gets colder. Each drop of the angel's kiss now turns into a sharp stab of spears. My focus drifts to the eerie water drop outside, small yet loud and clear like a disturbing emergency siren. Goosebumps come up. With its final dying breadth, the light fades off.

…

The screeching horrible scream erupts from the floor above. I immediately swing open the shower door. The water completely stops and that beautiful mist now turns into suffocating poison gas. Slowly, my breadth gets faster. I panic. I hurry and reach for the doorknob, I slip and fall. Tears fill my eyes. But there’s something more–bloody and damp. Drop by drop, it falls onto my face.

…

Footsteps. It’s her parents, hands tinged with dark red. 

“Honey? Are you there?”

Only silence and the sound of a constant liquid drop remain.