Her name was Lorraine. She was Michael George’s ex-girlfriend. Shortly after their break-up, she killed herself by slitting her wrists in bed with a cutter – no one entered her room until the next morning, which was too late. This story begins after all the frenzy that occurred between her family and Michael, from the day of her suicide until her burial.
If Lorraine were still alive, she’d probably be out of Michael’s head by now. But like anyone who lost someone close to them, Michael was reminded of her almost constantly. She was in his dreams; he’d eat somewhere and remember the last time they ate there; he’d wake in the middle of the night and think she was beside him and everything was just a dream; and almost every long-haired brunette he saw would resemble her.
A few months passed and Michael was practically fully recovered from mourning – he even started sleeping well again. But that was when things started to get peculiar. The first incident was in the subway. He usually ignores the people around him and drowns the noise out with his iPod but for some reason he had an ‘urge’ to look around that day. When he did, he saw a girl from afar just staring at him. He was near-sighted but he could clearly see that this girl was a dead-ringer for Lorraine. She was even wearing a yellow blouse – which was Lorraine’s favorite color. The train arrived and when he tried to take a closer look, she disappeared into the crowd. He disregarded that incident but a few days later, on his way home from work, he took his regular shortcut, which goes through the park. As he did, he suddenly noticed a girl sitting by a tree a few meters away. It was night and the only lights came from the lampposts. As he walked closer, the girl stood up slowly with her head down and her hair covering her face. She was barefoot and was wearing a black dress that looked exactly like the dress Lorraine was buried in. Michael planned to just pass her but then suddenly, the girl pointed at him and slowly looked up. Although the light placed a shadow on most of her figure and her hair now only partially covering her white face, he could plainly see that the girl was Lorraine. He stood frozen while her slender finger pointed and her dark eyes fixated on him. She then took a step forward and shrieked in a long, high pitch, “MURRR-DERRR!” The sound of it sent the coldest chill down his spine and made his knees weak. The park was coincidentally empty that night and all Michael could think of doing next was run. As he ran he heard her cry in the distance once more.
After that night, Michael called in sick from work for a few days, as he was just too edgy to leave the house. The next night, while on the couch, staring aimlessly at the TV, he suddenly heard a loud ‘PWAK!’ from his bedroom. As he went in to inspect the noise, he saw a large crack on his window – as if someone hit it hard but not hard enough to break it. He looked out his window but saw nothing. Another day passed and Michael was still secluded in his apartment. Since that night he still hasn’t been able to sleep and every time there was silence, his heart would beat rapidly and he’d break into a cold sweat. Two nights later, Michael randomly decided to look outside his window and when he did, he saw Lorraine standing outside and pointing up at him – wearing a white long dress that she once wore at her cousin’s wedding. As he took a step back from shock, he tripped over his own feet. He stood up shaking and approached the window again at a snail’s pace and when he looked out, she was no longer there. Michael didn’t call anyone for help since he felt no one would’ve believed him anyway so instead, he drank all the alcohol he had stocked – which was fairly a good amount. He couldn’t help but quiver the entire time he drank.
Alcohol was probably what he needed because from that night ’til the next day around 4pm, he finally felt drowsy and was able to fall asleep on the couch. As he slept, he dreamt of that night he saw Lorraine at the park. In his dream, her eyes were bigger and bloodshot. In his dream, blood dripped profusely from her open wrist while she pointed at him. In his dream, her haunting bellow echoed in the air. And in this dream, she grabbed him by the shoulders with cold, clammy hands, smiled, licked his ear and whispered, “Murrr-derrr”. Michael then suddenly woke from his nightmare but as he opened his eyes, his heart began to beat like a racehorse again. His started to perspire and his sweat felt like icicles coming out of his pores when he realized that Lorraine’s pale face was looking right down at him, practically nose-to-nose while her hair prickled his cheeks.
He reached for one of the gin bottles on the floor and hit her on the head with it and kicked her away.
“No!” Michael screamed.
The living room lights were off and although her hair again partially covered her face, he could see that not only was her face as white as snow, but also bloody.
He then got up off the couch while Lorraine just stood there. She then yelled in the same disturbing, high-pitched tone, “DEEAAAAD!” and launched towards him with open arms. The terror made Michael shed a tear and when she grabbed him by the neck, he plunged the broken bottle he was still holding, into her stomach.
“EEEEEEEEEAAAAH!” Lorraine’s scream echoed as she squeezed harder and sank her nails deeper into his neck.
He stabbed her again with the bottle – thrice. Lorraine’s grip finally loosened and he felt her breath exhale deeply onto his face before she fell to the ground and into the darkness.
Michael reached for the light switch and as soon as the room lit up, he saw Lorraine’s body on the floor. He looked down at her with her eyes still open and appeared to be looking at him. He looked at her fingernails with the black nail polish and bits of skin scratched off from his neck. He couldn’t tell if her wrists bled like in his dream since her dress’ sleeves covered it. He watched while her bridesmaid dress soaked the blood from her stab wounds. He crouched down to get a closer look at her face while gripping his bottle tight in case she’d advance at him again. He looked while blood ran down her from her forehead and as it ran, he noticed that white was also running down her face as if she was melting. He cautiously rubbed her cheek and saw white was on his fingertip. It looked like make-up. He looked again at her face and sees a black spot on the portion he rubbed. He rubbed the spot again but it didn’t budge like the white color. It appeared to be a mole.
“Fuck me!” Michael said and dropped the bloody, broken bottle.
What Michael thought that very instant was: Lorraine didn’t have a mole – her twin Elaine did. Lorraine used to tell him stories about how obsessive and protective Elaine was of her since they were kids. Elaine apparently couldn’t do practically anything, not even think straight, without Lorraine by her side. According to Lorraine, her sister’s behavior often worried her but she let her be since she was still her sister. Elaine moved to Nevada with her boyfriend a few months before Lorraine and Michael met. Michael never got to meet Elaine before and didn’t know when she arrived – but it definitely wasn’t before Lorraine’s burial ‘coz she wasn’t amongst the rest of her family that expressed their contempt to him at the funeral. Scaring the life out of him was probably Elaine’s way of expressing her contempt.
“Oh, fuck me!” was all Michael George could think of saying because not only did he already have Lorraine’s suicide on his conscience, he now has the murder of her psycho twin sister on his hands as well.
Copyright © 2009 by FV Nicolas