Black Christmas by Lee Hays

for a minute and then said, “I guess I was having a nightmare. I thought someone was coming into my room. The door seemed to open and I heard someone moaning. Probably dreaming about the sex maniac who’s been calling. I guess it was the scare that brought on the asthma attack.”
    “Well, it’s all right now. Just relax.”
    Barbara stared at the ceiling before she said, “I should be so lucky as to have a stranger come into my room.”
    Ignoring the last remark, Jess asked, “Feel better?”
    Nodding, Barbara answered, “How did I get so drunk? I was really bombed. I don’t know what I’m trying to do to myself. Boy, I really wiped out tonight. I can’t remember a thing.” Beginning to cry she added, “God, sometimes I really wonder what I’m doing, what the hell I’m trying to prove.”
    “Don’t, Barb.”
    “I don’t know why I act like that. The girls here are the only family I’ve ever really had and all I do is drive them away. Always some loud-mouth, smart-ass remark, and usually dirty, too.”
    “Barb, don’t do this to yourself.”
    “You think I don’t know why you said you’d go skiing with me? You knew I was going to be alone for most of the holidays. So you said . . . And just because Clare wouldn’t, or couldn’t. Why do I always drive people away? That’s not what I want to do.”
    Not knowing what to say, Jess sat silently for a few minutes while Barbara, although she had stopped crying, closed her eyes tightly. At last just when Jess thought she had gone back to sleep, she asked, “What happened tonight? I thought I heard someone yelling.”
    “Peter was here. We had a fight.”
    “What about?”
    “Oh, it’s not worth going into. Just one of those things. He was screaming by the time he left, but he’ll calm down. He always does.” She smiled at Barbara. “The temperamental, artistic type.”
    Drowsily Barbara replied, “Well, maybe you should call him just so things aren’t left in such an unfriendly state. Remember, it’s Christmas, the time to forgive . . .”
    Her voice trailed off as she fell back to sleep. Because her breathing was still heavy Jess sat with her for a while. And it was the breathing of Barbara that kept Jess from hearing the other, heavier breathing from out in the hall where a man stood, watching the door from the vantage point of the dark shadows of the stairwell.
    In there. Two of them. Oh, God, maybe I should. No, they wouldn’t understand. She’d laugh at me. Say something awful, like she did on the phone. Dirty. I hate dirty. It’s bad. Nasty Billy does dirty things. Wash his mouth out with soap. Take down his pants. You were bad. That’s what you did. No I didn’t. I wasn’t bad. You were! Say you were! Admit it or I’ll keep hitting you! Admit it. Say it. Say ‘Nasty Billy.’ Bad! Bad! Dirty. Dirty.
    A chorus of voices from outside broke into “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen” and Jess, sure that Barbara was asleep started for the door. Down the hall, a figure moved further into the shadows as she came out of Barbara’s room and went down the stairs to greet the carolers.
    The man slowly moved toward Barbara’s door once Jess was out of sight. He paused when he heard the front door open and the voices from outside became louder, then slowly, as though against his will he made his way to Barbara’s room.
    Jess went out without a coat and smiled at the shiny, red-cheeked faces that were ranged across the snow-covered lawn of the sorority house. A child stepped forward with a sign that had the letters UNICEF on it as the children raised their voices joyfully. From the front steps Jess watched and listened, oblivious to what was happening upstairs where the muted sound of the singing came through the closed door of Barbara’s room. In a deep sleep Barbara was unaware of the shadow that passed across her face as it lay peacefully on the pillow, unaware of the raspy breathing, the sickening sound of the demented voice.
    Quietly, as