“You ok, Katie? You’re lookin’ kinda pale.”
Lauren’s complexion is smooth, unblemished, with a lovely youthful glow. The blush she’s
wearing sparks an image in your mind of the blood rushing underneath her flawless skin. You
wonder what she’d look like if you peeled the flesh off her face. Would she still be as beautiful
as she is now? Perhaps even more so, immaculate scarlet cataracts cascading down her
sun-kissed neck, her deliciously lean body, to pool at her feet thick as liquid chocolate and
just as sweet. You gasp and shudder. You lay your head in your hands as hot tears run down
your cheeks.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Lauren comes around from behind the counter and wraps a tender arm
around your shoulder. You wince as she touches your left arm.
“Katie, what happened?” she demands startled by your reaction.
You feel the heat of her body against yours, hear the pulsating rhythm of her heart, see
the brilliant blue tributaries of veins running from her wrist up her forearm. Once again, your
mouth starts to water.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me!” you choke through your tears. “I feel like… everything
I am is somehow… wasting away!”
Lauren whispers soothing words into your ear as she leads you away from the counter, away
from the worried stares of the other employees and shoppers, to a small, secluded booth in
the supermarket’s café. She offers you some napkins, which you take and use to dry your tears
instinctively.
“Katie,” Lauren says softly. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”
You try to think of something to say but already your mind is sinking back under the sludge.
Lauren sighs uncomfortably.
“I know,” she says hesitantly. “I mean, I know you said that you and Scott have been…
having some problems.” She stops and looks in your eyes fretfully. Suddenly, she reaches out
and takes your hands in hers. “Oh, Katie! Did he hit you?”
You look at her left hand and notice a glint of gold on her ring finger – a wedding band. Your
eyes widen as a memory surfaces out of the murky depths of your mind…
You wait in eager anticipation, watching as your husband eats his breakfast while silently
reading the newspaper. You wait as he takes his keys from the kitchen counter and leaves for
work substituting a half-smile and a mumbled “love you” for what used to be a kiss. You wait
for thirty minutes after he leaves, you feed the dog, flip through a few pages of a book without
reading it, trying unsuccessfully to distract yourself any way you can. You wait for an additional
ten minutes to be certain your husband has made it into the office. Then, after one last
14
The Ghouls’ Review