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I cannot believe the day I've just had. It's like a dream.
I was at the fairground, people-watching. I was enjoying the smell of popcorn and candy floss, and the soundtrack of screams and musical beeps from the rides.
Then, through the scattered crowd, I spotted a naked woman walking towards me. That was strange enough, but then she walked right up to me and said, "I am your brother."
I'm not joking, that's how it happened.
I panicked, I didn't know what to do. I wasn't wearing a jacket or anything that I could cover her up with, and she was just looking at me. I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the back of Crazy Daisy's raffle stall where we were out of sight.
She sat down on the grass and didn't say anything else. I was dumbstruck too. I remember patting my pockets, as if I had something in there that could cover her up. I was embarrassed about the part of my brain that was enjoying the sight of her breasts. I took off my T-shirt in the end and put it on her, trying not to touch her.
At this point a couple of onlookers had poked their head around to see what was happening. I'm a guy, by the way, which must have made it look even weirder. I engaged my brain enough to ask a sensible question:
"Are you alright, lady?"
She didn't say anything, just sat there staring at me with a kind of determined look on her face.
"You're freaking me out, lady. What do you want me to do?"
No response. A couple of guys were staring at her and I noticed that my shirt wasn't really long enough to cover her lower half.
That's when I saw it - a little river of dried blood on the inside of her thigh. Not much, you wouldn't see it unless you were close, but unmistakeable.
I suddenly felt disgusted at the onlookers, and I felt protective over this strange woman. I picked her up off the floor and told her that everything would be alright. We pushed through the small crowd that had gathered, and I escorted her away.
Unbelievable, isn't it? I mean, why did she say she was my brother? Not even my sister, but my brother? I remember what went through my head when she said it - I'd narrowed it down to three possibilities:
She'd been possessed by an alien, like Invasion of the Bodysnatchers or that Faculty film. The alien was trying to engage with me in some kind of misdirected, unsettling way so that it could suck my brains out.
Or, my brother had undergone an instant sex change operation and this was his way of telling me. I pretty much eliminated this one because if my brother changed sex there's no way he would look that good.
Finally, I had entertained the obvious possibility that she was not telling the truth. In which case, why had she said it? Was she mad? Maybe. Had she been traumatised and wasn't thinking straight?
If she had said, "Help me," or something more grounded like that, I would have helped her, wouldn't I? I don't know, maybe I would have shrugged her off, or not taken her seriously, and let someone else deal with her.
I certainly would have ignored her if she'd said something else bizarre. If she'd started reciting Jabberwocky I would have assumed she was an insane attention-seeking streaker, and I would have backed away quietly.
But she said she was my brother. It may still sound insane, but it fired up some deep-rooted protective instinct in me, not to mention an underlying curiosity. And, to be honest, it was a little humiliating as well, that this crazy stranger was associating herself with me in front of a crowd of people. If she wanted me to take her aside and not get anyone else involved, it was somehow the right thing to say.
I took her to my house. I couldn't think of what else to do. We walked four blocks to get there, with her leaning on me, without saying a word. All the time I was conscious that her naked bottom half was on show (and my naked torso), but for some reason I was even more paranoid that people would notice that little trail of blood.
She was quite beautiful, I suppose. She was curvy and solidly built - not obviously muscular, but not at all fragile. Her young face looked worn, but her expression was impenetrable. At times she seemed distracted, lost; but the next moment curiously purposeful.
My brain replayed the memory of her appearance. I imagined the fairground like a circus, with hideous freaks on display. And then I saw this naked woman draw up with dangerous eyes, her body marked with blood:
"I am your brother."
I had to restrain myself from humming silly circus music. Suddenly I had an image of that freaky clown from the Stephen King film. I think I was struggling to digest the bizarreness of it all.
I'm not sure if there's any sense to be made of it. That's how it happened, and I don't think analysing it will help, except maybe to get it out of my system. I've been bursting to tell someone - to talk it through and piece it all together. But how do you bring up a subject like that? That's why I had to write it down here; to get it off my chest.
As soon as we got to my house she spotted the bathroom and disappeared into my shower. I was at a loss as to what to do next. Eventually I poked my head around the door, which she had left open, and called out to her:
"I'm going to call the police, okay? Are you okay?"
I noticed through the frosted glass that she was sitting hunched in the corner of the shower, hiding in the steamy water. I wasn't sure if she'd heard me.
"I'll get you a towel."
I was reluctant to call the police. I don't know why. I rooted around in my girlfriend's drawers for some clothes she wouldn't miss, and I folded up a towel. I brought all of it to the shower.
"I'm going to call the police," I said again. "Okay?"
"Why?" came her plaintive reply. That really took me by surprise. I pretty much ignored it. I think I was pretending to take control of the situation; actually, I had no control at all. I called the police. I told them that I had found a woman that may be hurt. It felt like it wasn't my own voice talking on the phone.
I wonder what all the other people at the fairground thought. Could I be implicated of some terrible thing? Had they seen me as a threat, an abuser? That was an uneasy thought. I had acted automatically without thinking of the consequences. I hadn't seen how others might jump to unwelcome conclusions. That made me quite nervous.
I tried to think of other things. I'd been looking forward to today when I woke up this morning. It was a sunny Saturday with nothing to do. My girlfriend had gone to visit her parents all weekend and the fair was in town, so I was looking forward to enjoying some alone time. Little did I know what awaited me. Couldn't I have stayed home?
I wonder how the woman in my shower felt when she woke up this morning.
Now you see what I mean when I said I'd had a crazy day. And I guess it's not over yet. What am I going to tell the police? If I tell them the whole truth, they won't believe me - it sounds too unreal. If I don't tell them the whole truth, they'll know I'm lying. It's a trip down to the police station for me either way.
She's been in the shower about forty minutes now, and it's been twenty minutes since I called the police. I feel like a criminal awaiting trial. I resent her a little bit for dragging me into this. She can't think she's my brother, that's too ridiculous. Maybe I should go and check on her. How much longer before the police arrive?
I've just gone to check on her and she's gone. The shower was still on, but she's not in it. The towel's been used - she even hung it up. And she left the clothes behind! I checked every room in the house, I even checked outside, but she's definitely not here.
Where the hell would she go? Why didn't she take the clothes I left? Shit! What did I do wrong? Shit shit shit the police are here…
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