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Our semblance of merriment carried us no further than West’s room in the boardinghouse, wherein we collapsed into shivering wretches the moment he shut and locked the door. With that indescribable cry still echoing throughout the very essence of my being, I clawed my way onto West’s bed, curling into myself against his pillow like a frightened cat. Though he was in a condition little better than my own, West managed to push his desk and chair against the door, forming a barricade to protect us from whatever unimaginable creature we had wrought into being that night. He then proceeded to burrow under the covers, worming his slight figure into the space unoccupied by my own, more gangly frame. Our faces were scarcely separated by an inch, causing me to recall the way my elder sister and I had passed countless prairie storms in our childhood. Our close proximity caused a shiver to run through my belly, and my heart nearly stopped altogether when West clasped my trembling hand with his own. I imagined that I could taste his very breath as he began to speak of ruptured arteries and damaged vocal chords, his words breathed onto my neck in so intimate a fashion. While my fear of our nightmarish escapade had struck me into a nearly catatonic silence, West seemed conversely unable to stop the flow of his words, and I listened with dull but unwavering attention. I began to calm as his ramblings continued on, his rationale for the cause of the evil sound soothing me into a stupor that resembled languor more than shock. My only contribution to the conversation was a delayed and garbled comment on the body’s freshness, which was quickly waved away for a lengthy explanation on our failure to consider that such a brute and unlearned specimen might not react as rationally as we may have expected or hoped.
When the first muted light of morning began to lift the shadows of the room, I felt the strong urge to pull West’s comforter over our heads so that he might ignore the passage of time and instead continue his monologue beside my prostrate form. When the matter did come to West’s attention several minutes later, he disentangled our hands and slipped out of bed, muttering on about the futility of attending another of Dr. Hill’s lectures as he snuffed out the gaslight and removed his shoes and spectacles. His bare eyes seemed sharper when not encased behind the thick lenses, and my chest grew cold as those eyes roamed across my disheveled face. I rolled onto my side with a shudder, facing away from West under the reasoning that it would allow him to reclaim his pillow. Instead, a hand that was chilled despite our hours huddled under thick bedclothes rested itself upon my arm, and I became aware of West’s chin resting upon my shoulder. I know now that it was not the memory of our terrible creation’s wail that caused a shiver to run through my belly at the innocuous brush of his skin as his narrow frame fitted itself tightly against my back. It was not long before West’s breathing grew even and the warmth of his body settled around me, dispelling from my mind any images of crypt-cold beasts long enough for me to pass into slumber.