She was small, both in height and frame. Hunched over and sobbing made it hard to tell, but if I had to guess I’d say she wasn’t much more than fo...r feet tall. She was very thin, almost sickly, and her skin was ghastly pale. She was surprisingly clean for a seemingly feral woman, or ghost, in the woods. I came within an arm’s length away from her and she looked up at me, eyes red and puffy from crying. “Everyone who meets me dies. I am cursed,” she whined, staring up at me with her puffy blue. Reality had slapped me in the face. I stripped off my own clothes down to my skivvies and carried Alex to the shower. The warm water flowing over her head jolted her into partial consciousness. "Wha... What is this? What are you doing?" "I'm cleaning the vomit off you." "Uh... okay," she mumbled, drifting off once more while sagging in my arms. I sat her on the drop down shower stool and pulled up her silky hair, rinsing it out carefully. Afterwards, I took a soapy wash cloth and washed. More

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