5 Drain

She woke suddenly, and for a moment she couldn't identify the strange noises coming from the bathroom. A low growling cat-curse was followed by the scrabble of claws on porcelain. "Rowl!" her cat shouted angrily, and then fell silent.

She threw the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She intended to leap out of it, but a wave of dizziness slapped her down and it took her a moment to stagger to her feet. She stumbled toward the bathroom and almost fell when her cat twined around her ankles.

"What's in there?" she asked him as she bent to scoop him up.

He didn't resist, but she struggled awkwardly, trying to get him up and into her arms. He seemed twice as heavy as usual, and his sleek soft fur was slippery against her hands. He neither answered her question, nor complained about the awkward lift.

She finally got him up and hugged him beneath her chin as she peered warily into the darkness beyond the doorway. It wasn't the complete darkness of the shadows during the evening. She could make out the fixtures and the counter, and the different shade and texture of the rug laid between counter and shower.

Nothing moved, and the cat in her arms showed no reluctance toward being carried forward. She had to lean against the door frame in order to keep him supported while she reached for the light.

The light dispelled the darkness, but didn't reveal anything obviously out of the ordinary. She walked forward, full of unexplainable trepidation, and peered around the edge of the shower.

She was relieved to see that it was completely empty, until she spotted the streak of blood in the bottom, trailing into the drain.

She ran away.

She didn't run very far away, just as far as her bed. The lights blazed, and her cat complained with a soft "meow" as she turned him over and ran her hands all over him, looking for any trace of a wound.

There was nothing, no place that he flinched when she touched him, no dampness in his thick fur. He seemed perfectly fine, except for being annoyed by her handling. She released him, and he walked exactly three steps away from her, and then sat down to wash his fur back into place.

A wave of exaustion weakened her, but she grimaced and pulled herself back to her feet. She walked the miles that her small living space suddenly seemed to stretch to contain, and collected the last of the salt, scrubber, rags, and towels.

By the time she finished scrubbing the tub, taking special care with the drain, and clensing every crevice, she felt like she'd gained a second wind. She didn't stop there though, she went around and scrubbed every drain, vent and outlet.

Dawn had already lit the sky, with a clear pale light, by the time she finished. This year's Halloween began with a crisp clear fall morning. She warmed a mug of cider and then sat beside the window.

The world outside the glass seemed cold and strangely distant. Clearly separated from the warm room and the sweet scent of the cider in her hands. She felt like she could almost see the border that defined what was out, and what was in.

The tree that had snatched up the bird, stood still and calm. No one with a red cap, or brown, passed by as she slowly sipped the warm sweet liquid from her favorite cup. The irregular hand crafted knobbles and curves fit against her fingers, comfortingly familiar.

The sky brightened into a pure clear deep blue, that stretched into infinity, and called out for the possibility of flight. Later in the day, cheerful trick-or-treaters frolicked throughout the neighborhood, in their colorful and outlandish costumes. Candy passed from hand to hand, and colorful lights lit the night.

Nothing strange happened over the next few days. She didn't see anything that she could not recognize. Maybe it was silly superstition, but it was too easy to imagine that some mythical monster had been denied entrance to her home.

It took a couple of days before she didn't hold her breath and listen for strange sounds if she woke during the night, but the last traces of apprehension faded surprisingly quickly. She half expected herself to be fearful of going out, but she wasn't. Instead, she felt oddly invigorated.

She hadn't really been conscious of feeling drained all of the time, until the feeling went away. And the memories faded as quickly as though she'd spent a week dreaming. Although, to be fair, she didn't put much effort into trying to remember the faces, but the recollection never presented itself unsought for either.

She didn't cancel the vision testing, just in case, but she slept well at night. Safe and warm, with her cat curled up in his usual spot behind her knees.