I squinted my eyes open against the unnatural lighting, groaning out a complaint. I looked across the room at Ada’s bed — it was empty again. Sighing, I threw my covers off and fumbled my way to the door. As I walked past all the uninviting doors of my apartment building, all I could think about were the multiple stab wounds that my groggy, sleep-deprived self was ready to give Liam. Liam was Ada’s alcoholic friend, who could magically produce bottles of that tantric liquid that he called “Liamese goodness”. It was really just rum. Ada was trying to get off the alcohol, but Liam just wouldn’t let her.
I climbed up the last flight of stairs and emerged onto the terrace — only to find her drunken self yodelling out some crappy song. She was teetering on the wall again. I pulled her down to sane flooring, all the while giving her sisterly advice. I might just have been mumbling to myself, though, because it went right through her head. That’s when I heard it. A voice, mellow and honeyed. It beckoned to me, asking me to take a sip of the wine. I shook my head clear and started towards the stairs — but I couldn’t move. It was as if my feet had been cemented in place. I tried to move my arms, but I couldn’t even lift a muscle. I called out, knowing that it would end in a voiceless scream.
Suddenly, I was looking into the bloodshot eyes of a deadly apparition. A woman, her hair flowing out wildly. She wore a loose white gown, the kind that almost every ghost in a movie wears. “How cliche”, I thought. And yet, those eyes. They were familiar. Really familiar. Familiar enough to be…Oh. OH. God.
Frantically, I looked over my shoulders to see if Ada was still there. She was. Her drunken, stupid self was blabbering on about Liam. My mind was racing in panic: Ada was right behind me, but the ghost was also Ada. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, hoping that the apparition would disappear before I opened them. “That’s not going to work, you know”, Ada chimed in from behind me.
“Wh…what?”, I sputtered out.
“Closing your eyes. To make her go away. It’s not going to work. She’s still gonna be here when you open them.” she replied, the nonchalance in her voice hitting me with a chill. “But..I…you can see her too?”
“Of course. Why do you think I drink so much? I can’t handle her when I’m sober. Tell me this : who does she look like to you?”
“She looks like you, Ada”, I replied, my voice nothing more than a whimper now.
“Oh dear. I’m so sorry. I don’t have a choice”, she said, her voice deadpan.
“Why, Ada? Why are you sorry? Who is she? What is she? I don’t understand!”, I pleaded.
“I’m sorry. I really am. But I don’t have a choice.” Ada replied.
“But WHY?” I almost screamed from my sense of foreboding about her answer.
“The person whose face you see in her, is the last face you’ll ever see. It’s the face of the person who’s going to kill you.” she said.
“Oh god. Ada wait! Ada! Stop! Please! Ada I…”
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