Anja faced the hall again. Opposite of the bathroom, a shadow grew upon the wall. Taller, closer, splash, splash. The shadow of the figure curved up onto the ceiling.
“Six foot three,” the file had read.
The tall lady.
Out from around the corner, the figure slowly strode into the hall in a long dress and high-laced boots.
Anja’s eyes enlarged as she gaped at the woman.
“Those little bastards. Always calling me, always crying, always making sound.” The tall lady stared at her shadow on the wall, mumbling to herself. “Always calling me, always crying, always…making…sound.”
A shiver up Anja’s spine prickled her skin with goosebumps.
The tall lady slowly turned until she saw Anja.
Anja gasped, thinking maybe if she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, the tall lady would resume her residual chanting. But the tall lady cocked her head as she side-stepped to acknowledge Anja.
In the bathroom light, Anja made out black sockets for the tall lady’s eyes, pale white skin, dark hair pulled up into a bun. She wore a handmaid’s dress that was white from the shoulders to the waist. At the waist, bloody stains smeared down to the ripped bottom.
“You’re not a child. But you can see me.”
Anja gripped her dagger.
The tall lady revealed a steak knife.
“Do you have children?”
Here she comes.