Cafe La Morte

I woke in the morning in terrible pain. The adrenaline of the previous night had worn off.  Every cell of my body wanted to double over, but that only made the pain worse. There was definitely something wrong with my belly. Pulling back the covers I found they had stuck to me in the middle of the night. Dried blood was everywhere. What the hell had happened to me! I tried to sit up, but was too weak to move. Once again I would need to rely on Erica for help. Calling out at the top of my lungs, I winced in pain again as the effort proved too much. I passed out. When I came too Erica was next to me on the bed.

‘Bloody hell! What happened to you?’ She exclaimed as she walked through the door.

‘Oh you know just the usual night…. Horror movies, bit too much wine, open fire, sleep… Freddy Krueger,’ I smiled back.

‘Well it looks like you tried to sacrifice yourself to the Gods.’

‘Really? What the fuck happened to me?’

‘Well for a start you have some weird picture carved into your stomach.’

‘Right,’ I replied.

‘Aside from that you have an awful lot of bruising.’

‘Thanks a lot Freddys,’ I mumbled.

‘I would say it has all the hallmarks of La Morte.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘and I know just how to stop it.’

‘OK, how?’ She seem skeptical.

‘I’m going to hang some paintings.’

‘Oh, right, what? Wait but Luke told me…,’ she said.

‘Yes I know, and La Morte will not like it one bit.’

‘Fine,’ she sighed, giving up on trying to speak to me in this condition, ‘well then my dear curator, I think we better clean you up first?’

‘Yes, yes please,’ I smiled to myself. In my mind I was all ready to fight fire with an atom bomb.

Erica wrenched open a big black medical bag that had been sitting next to her on the bed. I looked at it dubiously, but what choice did I have but to trust her. As she started pulling bits and pieces out of it, I was actually surprised. Not only did she have pain killers, but local anesthetic and everything she needed to stitch me up. She seemed to have done this before. Perhaps she had? But I would leave my questions for another time.

‘You’re a mess,’ she said again injecting me with the local.

‘Yes,’ I agreed, wincing again.

Erica sighed.

‘I need hot water and towels. I have to get rid of this dried blood, so I can see what I am doing. I don’t know why the house is being so rough to you, I certainly never experienced anything so … Destructive,’ she said getting up slowly and walking out the door towards what I assumed was the bathroom.

‘OK?’ I called out to her as she left.

‘I’m serious!’ she exclaimed on her return, arms laden with towels, disinfectant and a bowl of hot water. Pulling on some surgical gloves we prodded my side gently.

‘Can you feel that?’

‘Thankfully no.’

‘OK, I’ll get started, but let me know the minute you feel pain OK? After I’m done I’ll leave you some pain meds and let you get some rest.’

‘Thank you,’ I said again, I mean what else was there to say?

‘Look, I’ve been here 9 months,’ Erica said suddenly, her brow creasing as she worked, ‘and I’ve seen many …. attacks by the house in my time, but I have never seen her ever be so severe as she has been with you… so who are you?’

‘I’m literally no one, but I guess this means she … it must fear me. It is the only explanation. It wants me out of here bad.’

‘You’re starting to scare me a bit.’

‘Look, don’t worry. You’ll see. By the time I am finished this house and I will be best friends,’ I said with a confidence that came from I know not where.