she's under

she'
s under
the stairs
where we keep
the mat
ches.
her hair
is sl
ick against
her f
ace
and it'
s dripping wet like
raining waste.
she has scars. she'
s watching everything i do.
she'
s watching intensely.
i'
ve turned the lights down.
there is only one bulb
burning in the hallway
and the light hard
ly touches the pantry
beneath the st
airs.
i'm knelt down
in front of her.
her ey
es are large.
so large. she hisses.
the sound is unusual
and familiar.
she'
s cut herself on a nail
protruding from a stud
beneath the st
airs. she likes it.
she's laughing
as she sta
res at me.
her ey
es are cold and filled in black,
bloodshot.

it'
s raining.

i can hear
the clock
over my heart.

she'
s staring at me.
she'
s laughing to me.
the front
door is open.
thunder rat
tles a long way off
and the clouds crest past
the dark sky. i can see her
footprints on the porch.
i look back
under the st
airs.
she'
s gone.
i hear her
laughing somewhere
in the house.
there are small drops
of bl
ood.
and i can taste
her smell.