“HOLY—” I flail for purchase for a brief slow-motion moment, before we’re both in free fall. “—FUCKING BUCKET SHITBALLS JESUS CHRIST MARY JOSEPH—UGHF.” My profanity stream cuts off with a grunt as I semi-brace against the ground with one arm and slam into this poor girl’s stomach. She screeches like a dying animal.

I push up off her gingerly. As I do, her pale arms fly up to cover her eyes. She’s still emitting a high-pitched wailing sound.

“You can stop screaming!” I tell her.

The sound stops, but she doesn’t lower her arms. Blood begins to bead around her elbow. This girl’s only wearing a towel.

“Shit, dude, are you okay?” I ask hesitantly.

When she doesn’t respond, I gently pull the injured arm away from her face to get a better look at it. There are multiple splotches where the skin is scraped off. “Your elbow’s all cut up.”

I look up to meet her eyes, and the girl’s face knocks the wind out of me like a swift kick to the gut. I gag for a second before finding the air to belt out a scream of my own.

What the actual flippity fudge fork jibbit fuck?!

“Gah!” is all I manage to actually get out before hopping up from the floor and stumbling backward. “Siri?!”

The girl doesn’t respond, just closes her eyes. Small rivulets of water flow down her cheeks. She’s still lying flat on the ground like a corpse.

“Siri?!” I repeat.

I clear my throat from where I’m now gawking at her, six feet away, against the sinks. “Hello?”

My heart’s thrashing so hard against my chest, I feel like it’s going to bust through my rib cage like the alien in Alien.

“Hey, excuse me! I’m going to need you to acknowledge your name. Is it Siri?” I demand.

The girl sucks in a breath. “Yeah, what’s it to you?” she croaks.

I brace an arm against the sink. “Can you get up?” I think I’m having a hot flash. When she doesn’t move or respond, I step forward and offer her a shaky hand.

She’s crying silently like a creepy child in a horror film. “Take my hand,” I instruct.

Without making eye contact, she takes my hand and braces the injured arm against her towel. She slowly positions her feet directly under her torso before standing straight up in one fluid motion.

“Your face,” I breathe.

She’s still not looking at me. She might not have even heard me. Okay, she’s hyperventilating. And staring at the floor.

“Are you okay?” I repeat anxiously.

Siri steps back into her shower stall and pulls the curtain closed.

A sputtering noise escapes my lips. “Are you shitting me right now?”

Her shower turns back on.

“Hey!” I complain.