Strange Baby part 5

Leaning, breathless, with her back against the door, she pulls the cord of her dressing gown tight.
Dressing gown!?
Angelica cautiously looks around.
This my bathroom, my shower, my wash basin with the big mirror above it, my towel with my initials on it, that stupid sponge shaped like a crocodile; all my things in my bathroom.
She runs her hands over everything making sure it’s real, ending up before the mirror, clutching the creamy white wash basin, gasping suddenly. Her reflection is naked, moving as she does, staring back incredulously, swaying, reaching up with its fingertips to meet hers at the cold glass surface, melting into each other. At that moment a yellow sheen flashes over her second face and a familiar chuckle fills her ears. Something moves inside her, deep in her womb, something slippery oozing from her. She opens her dressing gown. A thick trail of blood smeared green slime trickles from her knickers; trembling fingers ease them down her thighs, revealing a fat slime-slug hanging from her vagina, creeping down her legs.With horrified curiosity she touches it, gasping as she feels it pulsating. The slug slowly bulges out, forming a jelly skull; two intense black eyes stare up at her, while a sickly odour penetrates her nostrils, making her dizzy. Suddenly a rubbery mouth gapes open, sucking her hand inside. Angelica screams, snatching her arm free as whining laughter pierces her mind. The mirror image grins back at her, fingers against the glass, as if frozen, eyes slanted menacingly. Angelica’s legs buckle, forcing her onto the open toilet seat, the slime now flowing freely into the water, as if everything inside her has become liquid; life draining away, her second self laughing still louder.
‘Am I dying?’ she whispers, closing her eyes in answer...body crumpling...
head bowing...hands sliding from her legs...

‘Careful!’ Gail’s voice startles her. ‘You almost spilt your drink.’
Angelica shivers at the sudden appearance of people all around her.
‘It’s busy tonight.’ Gail moans, sitting down.
Angelica slowly recognises her surroundings; the pub which she and Gail go to in the evenings.
‘You were right about the seance, it was an absolute rip off.’ Gail sucks in a mouthful of gin.
‘It was?...well...I mean...I did warn you.’
‘Yes I know. You can say I told you so after your drink.’
‘Christ!’ Angelica splutters after one sip. ‘What is this?’
‘A triple as agreed. Honestly, when I see Sandra I’ll give her such a piece of my mind. The whole place was full of false doors and trip wires I reckon; and what about that weird lot sitting with us...borrowed from the local undertakers if you ask me!’
‘I told you Sandra was unreliable.’
‘And you were right. Did you feel something brush past us when the lights went dim and Madam Gorgel said, “The Spirits are with us” ?’
‘No.’
‘Well I did and by the smell of it, it certainly wasn’t supernatural. Whoever heard of a ghost with body odour!’
‘Wow,’ Angelica gasps after another mouthful. ‘A few more of these and I can float home.’
‘Don’t get too legless or I’ll have to keep prodding you awake tomorrow.’
‘It’s my day off.’
‘Oh yeah, I forgot. Well then, get as ratted as you want. I’ll get Big Josh behind the bar to carry you home.’
‘If you let him near me I’d better be unconscious.’
‘Oh he’s all right.’
‘Yes, if you like Neanderthals in check shirts.’
‘He’s a gentle giant.’
‘Well he can go and save some other damsel. If I’m incoherent just bundle me into a taxi.’
‘I just can’t believe that Sandra wound me up like that?’
‘Forget it Gail. Here’s a fiver, it’s my round. You can have one of my triples to soothe your injured pride...while I go and powder my nose.’

Angelica dabs her face with water, feeling strong arms caressing her bare shoulders. ‘May I say,’ a male voice purrs behind her, ‘that you look incredibly sexy in that night-dress.’ Toby presses close to her, moving his hand slowly, deliberately to her breasts. She is in her bedroom, standing before the tall mirror of her dressing table, in a short satin night-dress, her face glowing in the fuzzy light from a small table lamp.
God knows how and God knows why, just let it wash over me, I’ve no control any more...the jigsaw is jumbled forever...I can only stumble through it piece by jagged piece.
Toby’s crotch is becoming insistent. Angelica smiles at him in the mirror. ‘I suppose that hard bulge you keep prodding against my bum is your way of telling me that you’re in the mood for something?
‘Could be...depends if your mood matches mine.’
‘I may be open to persuasion,’ she replies, turning round. ‘I mean, if that incredibly hard thing in your underpants should happen to rub up against that incredibly wet thing in my knickers...’
‘Which can easily happen when two consenting adults are in the same bedroom.’
‘Exactly. And if, for some unexplainable reason, our underwear should fall down...’ her breath was hot in his ear. ‘I’d naturally hold onto your cock to stop it getting cold.’
‘N...naturally.’
‘And the movement of my breathing would, of course, make my hand go back and forth like this,’ she sighs, licking his earlobe.
‘Of...course,’ Toby gulps.
‘And if I should get an uncontrollable desire to lie on the bed with my knees apart...still holding you, of course.’
‘Yes...of course.’
‘Toby.’
‘Yes.’
‘I think this is what they call getting serious. There’s only one thing in the way.’
‘What’s that?’
‘We have to think of a word that begins with F and rhymes with duck.’ Angelica chuckles as Toby feigns confusion. ‘You might be more inspired if you lie on top of me,’ she says, pulling him towards the bed. ‘Turn out the lamp...I want it to be dark.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to feel you, hold you,’ she pants hotly, drawing him onto her and guiding him inside. ‘I want to feel every fuck you make in me.’
‘Christ Angelica, you know it drives me crazy when you talk that way.’
‘Yes I know, just the way I go crazy when I feel your cock inside me.’
‘Is that why you’re so tight around me?’
‘Mmmmm, push it deeper Toby, bury it in me!’Angelica reaches down, pulling on his buttocks.
‘Wow...ease up Angelica, you’re a bit too tight.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I can hardly move...stop clamping on me.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You are...you’re...OW. What the fuck are you doing Angelica, that hurt!’
‘I’m not doing anything Toby.’
‘You are, you are! You’re...aahhh...you’re tearing into me, aaahhh!’ Toby shudders, crying out as Angelica feels something flood over her belly.
‘Toby what is it?’ she cries to the shadows. Toby can’t answer, the pain is excruciating. He writhes and bucks on her in agony, ‘Let me go, let me go!’ But Angelica can’t. The same strange force that had taken hold of her at the seance now clamps her arms around her lover’s body.
‘Let me go, you’re killing me!’
Angelica can’t let go, can’t stop the pain, or death devouring him the way it had Gail; can’t stop the blood, the screams, the crash of his body as it smothers her!

Still in the bathroom, on the toilet seat. All around beige tiled calmness.
Another dream...any more like that and I’ll be put away. What is real, what is fantasy? I don’t know any more. Why these horrible, hateful dreams...is that me...is that who I really am? They say the dark side of you, the true side, comes out in dreams. Do I really hate the people I think I love? Life, death, love, hate, in dreams they can happen at the same time, all mixed up. Are dreams just sleeping madness then, and lunatics simply people who dream when they’re awake?
Something presses against her, between her legs. She looks down sleepily, then screams in horror! Toby’s blood soaked scrotum is jammed up against the toilet seat, his penis still plugged in her vagina.
‘No...no!’ she wails, sliding in panic from the seat, grasping his genitals in her hand, pulling, with a despairing moan, his cock out, holding the dead organ up before her disbelieving eyes
‘This can’t be real...this can’t be real!’
A groan from the bedroom freezes her hysteria. Listening, breath stilled...yes another moan. Forcing herself up, forward, shaking, nightdress smeared with gore, leaving a blood trail dripping from Toby’s penis still clutched in her hand. In the dim bedroom light she can make out Toby on the bed, his back towards her. She moves dizzily to his pale grey body amidst the blood soaked sheets, almost fainting at the sight of a gaping hole in his groin. ‘Toby,’ she whispers tearfully, touching his shoulder, prepared for death, prepared for grief, but not prepared for Toby’s fist slamming in her face.
‘Bitch!’