Short story

Bloody finger

San Diego, Rosecrans Street. Another Friday night I have to get through. It’s midnight and
the pouring rain hitting against my windows is replacing the silence that had consumed the
room since I walked in. My tired frame is scattered across the couch, an empty glass of wine
resting on the coffee table. A loud thunder got me to my feet in a second with my heart
pounding against my chest. Maybe I should' ve stayed at Emily’s just for the night. To try and
distract myself I decided to turn on the Tv and watch something to get my mind off things.
Unfortunately, I ended up putting on a documentary that talked about professional murders-
their lives before and after their criminal acts, what they’ve done, mentioning techniques and
preferences, touching on the psychological aspect of each one of them.
After a while my attention was averted to the now ringing phone. Hesitantly I reached for it
and accepted the call before positioning it beside my right ear.
“Hello?” I asked, trying not to sound too overwhelmed.
All I heard for the first few seconds was a shallow breathing that was able to send shivers
down my spine. Until a husky and unfamiliar voice spoke, startling me a little. “This is Bloody
finger speaking, and I’m in your continent.” As soon as words stop coming out of his mouth I
hang up the phone and shakelly make my way over the couch where I soon try to figure out
what had just happened while I stare blankly at the Tv.
I always believed weird things were bound to happen to everybody throughout their lives, to
some more than others, but I never thought that I would be one of them. I can’t even seem to
register what the hell that phone call meant and if it meant anything, as my eyes pinned off
to the clock on the wall and I noticed that nearly half an our passed by and I was still feeling
apprehensive about every single thing, scare that something might happen to me at any
given moment.
To relax a bit I head over to the kitchen to prepare some tea. While doing so, memories of
my childhood, more specifically of my mom that used to have tea parties with me every
Sunday evening where she would prepare the most delicious and varied types of teas I
have ever had since then, all came back to me, making me a little less distressed. I
continued to smile as I entered the living room to resume what I was doing earlier. Deciding
not to push my mood too much, I changed the documentary to something more light-hearted
for the moment- The Flintstones.
What was probably about an hour and a half later the phone rang again. Not having my mind
remembering the past occurrence, I picked it up and not even having time to say anything,
the same husky voice whispers, kind of mumbling, into his device: “This is Bloody finger
speaking, and I’m in your country.” Baffled that a grown ass man had the courage and
audacity to keep calling someone- a woman at this matter- this late at night, just to say
something creepy like so, was making my blood boil with disgust, anger and subsequently
rage.
“Shut the fuck up. You are ruining my night just because you want to play some sick prank
on someone as a distraction or to even have fun. Go get your mom to take you out on a walk
or something, I heard it helps. You piece of trash!” I yelled and hung up the phone not
wanting to deal with this bullshit any longer.
Now angry at a bastard that I don’t even know personally, I decided to cool off by taking a
long and deserved shower and call it a night. After putting the dirty dishes away, I headed up
stairs and took a cold shower followed by a somewhat long, hot and steamy bath to prepare
me for bed. Putting on my pjs and getting into bed made me realise how tired I was.
Adjusting myself against the pillow and the mattress, I pulled on the comforter till it reached
my chin, and soon began to close my eyes and drift to the unconscious land.
The loud and constant ringing of the phone somewhat brought me back to reality but didn’t
get me to move out of my comfort and hazed state. Ignoring the rings I stayed still waiting for
it to stop so I could resume what I was doing a moment ago, and soon it did. Although, I only
went with two hours of nothing bothering me as more riging started and got me out of my
rest and relaxed state. Getting to the phone while still sleepy was harder than I thought,
there were about 4 times I almost tripped and fell down the stairs. Once again having the
phone against my ear, I heard a shallow breath and that same husky voice that had a certain
strain to it, now talking more clearly and louder than before. “This is Bloody finger speaking,
and I’m in your city.” Now completely awake and confused with everything, getting from what
he said that he is even closer now, I asked: “What do you want with me?” Hoping for an
answer I remained silent but nothing came. As I was about to cut the call, he repeated
himself and warned me: “ This is Bloody finger speaking, and I’m in your city. You should be
prepared for my arrival today.” Now I was the one with the shallow breath as the call seemed
to not be intercepted, I couldn’t hang up. I didn’t know what to do then, I couldn't go back to
sleep feeling my anxiety go through the roof and seeing that it's about to strike 4 am; I
obviously wasn’t able to ignore nor cut off the call and go through with my day as if nothing
was happening. I felt helpless, standing up in the middle of my living room, at four in the
morning, holding the phone that didn’t seem to be working properly and feeling unsafe at my
own home. I just sitted silently on the burgundy colored armchair next to the couch. A few
minutes later the man spoke once more. “This is Bloody finger speaking, and I’m in your
neighborhood.” I closed my eyes feeling it begin to fill up with tiers. Two droplets fell, each
from one eye. Sensing an anxiety attack coming I tried doing breathing exercises to tame it
down, but nothing seemed to be helping and my vision getting more blurry each passing
second. “This is Bloody finger speaking, and I’m in your street.” I got up in an instant and
began to pace around not liking any of these things that led to the present moment. Just to
confirm I anxiously and eagerly ask: “Witch street? What’s the name?” He pauses for a
millisecond and responds with “ Rosecrans Street”. That’s when I lost it. My sanity. My
control over myself and my thoughts. I was going to die. This random man was going to get
here and was going to do God knows what. Was he planning on killing me, robbing, raping
maybe. I had no idea of what was to come and what I had to prepare for so I just got a hold
of a kitchen knife and directed myself towards the front door. I was not going down without a
fight, at least that was what I was planning on doing as he spoke cautiously his next words:
“This is Bloody finger speaking, and I’m at your door. Open up.” Despite the fact that I heard
what was said I remained still, until the doorbell took me out of my trance and I reached for
the doorknob with one hand while the other had a tight hold on the knife. After taking a deep
breath of air I opened the door with one big movement and was about to bounce on this man
but stopped, noticing his hand coming forward and his bloody finger now at sight, his sore
voice much clearer now finally shared his wishes: “This is Bloody finger speaking.” He
coughed but continued “Can you give me a bandaid?” Astonished at what stood before me, I
caught myself wanting to become the murder at that given moment in time.