It was the dripping that woke me. The wet slap on my carpet invaded my dreams. At first I thought I was still dreaming. I knew what it was before I looked. In fact I didn’t want to look. Truth is, I was scared to look.
In the dark, everything is grey. Grey and black. When I looked around he was nothing more than a big, black blob at the foot of my bed. His face was grey. Though I couldn’t see it, he was soaked from head to toe. That’s where the dripping was coming from. I could tell he was staring at me but his eyes were black in the dark so I couldn’t be sure.
He was crying, or at least it seemed that way. When I sat up in my bed he stepped back and his face became part of the room. His hands were still on the end of my bed and his grey fingers dripped water down onto my sheets. He had come here before and I didn’t know what to do. I was too frightened. This time wasn’t much different. I got up and walked towards him and every step knocked my knees together. When I walked toward him he flinched. My hands were shaking when I reached out and grabbed for his shoulders. His skin was wet and cold and terrible. His muscles stiff. I pulled him in toward me and held him in an embrace and I felt the cold creep into my skin. He started to shudder with sobs and then he embraced me back. I told him it was okay, I told him not to cry. His tears were as cold as his body and though he never said a word I knew exactly what he wanted.
He wanted not to be dead anymore.