The Shower Stall

I suppose I've always been quite a paranoid person, but not while in the shower. When I'm in the shower, all my cares vanish instantly, and I often lose track of the time. Even the move from a private shower at home to a public shower in the dormitory has not changed this fact. The experience is almost like a dream.
My shower last Friday morning began no differently from before. I stepped into the bathroom sleepy-eyed and cranky, awaiting the moment I would re-enter sweet bliss in my shower stall. I knew no one else would be in the shower room; Thirsty Thursday night almost guarantees that no one wakes up before 10:00 a.m. on Friday mornings. I entered the stall and closed the door. The stall was perfectly clean, just what I needed to relax. I undressed and set my shampoo and soap in the shower, then turned on the water, almost all the way towards the red side.
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I tested the water with my hand. It was just the temperature I liked, almost hot enough to cause pain, but not quite. I slowly placed myself into the stream of falling water and closed the curtain. There is nothing quite like this feeling, as I described before. All my cares seemed to disappear into the warmth and the soothing sound of the shower. …But then, I felt something. It was an unusually cold spot on my shoulder. I realized that a cold drop must have dripped from the ceiling, remembering that my dormitory had been having some water leaks lately and would have them fixed by the end of the day. Because of this, I paid no further attention to the cold drop but attempted to place myself out of its inevitable path.
A few minutes passed, and I felt another cold drop. This one landed on my foot, probably a few inches from the place where, I assumed, the other drop came. I looked down at it, only to see that the drop was red. … It took me a moment to come to the conclusion that the residents on the floor above must have drunk some kind of red wine the night before and must have spilt it on the ground. It made sense that wine could sink through the floor, considering that the water from the leak could as well. I again attempted to disregard the drops and take my shower in peace. After all, I had a test that day, one I would need to take without the usual stress that my morning showers relieve.
As I washed my face, I heard a terrible bang from above that startled me! Wiping my eyes, I found a small dent in the ceiling tile, facing downward and appearing to sag under some weight. Surely, I thought, there is too much liquid for the ceiling to hold, with the wine and the water both pressing down. But I needed to complete my shower; I had to. I resolved to wash my hair as quickly as possible and then to get out of there before the ceiling tile gave way. I was very swift in getting the shampoo in my hands and was just starting to wash my short hair when there was another bang.
I don't think that I've ever felt so cold in my life. It felt as though a torrent of wine or water or whatever was falling on me was assaulting my head and shoulders with ice cold muck, and it was so sticky and gross that I nearly vomited. But that's not the worst part. As I put my whole body into the shower stream to wash off the mess, something struck the top of my head and pulled at my hair. …It was a hand, a human hand! All of a sudden, my childhood fear of hands falling from the ceiling came rushing back to me, and my knees temporarily gave out.
I struggled frantically just to wipe my eyes off, but it was too late. The ceiling tile gave way and fell on my back, and it was much heavier than I anticipated. No, the ceiling tile wasn't bearing the weight of a fluid. The thing that fell on me was… it was a body, sticky and gross and smelling like it had been bathed in blood for hours. I slammed it against the wall and finished wiping my eyes, to find that it was the naked corpse of a female, appearing to be the age of a college student and having bloody stubs where her legs should have been. She had several cuts all across her body, some stretching across her stomach and others lining her face with red gore. I pushed her away from me and exited the shower stall to go get help…
I told the police what had happened. I told my friends and family, my roommate and floormates, everyone that I assumed would believe me when I told the truth. However, there was one crucial piece of evidence that made me a suspect of the crime, one glaring truth that I couldn't even attempt to deny or to explain. …The deceased person whom the police recovered from the shower was determined to have been alive until shortly after I began to take my shower, despite having had her legs completely removed from her body before being placed in the ceiling space. My fingerprints were also all over the body, but of course they were! I was a victim, just as that poor girl was a victim of a horrific crime against nature. I can deny having touched the body before it entered the shower, but I can't deny the look on her face when I first opened my eyes. I can never forget how terrified she appeared, that was shown by the desperate look in her fearful, wide-open eyes.
When you take a shower, what do you expect to happen? You don't expect anything to happen, do you? I tell you that if you ever feel cold drops fall on you from your shower ceiling, you should vacate the shower immediately and just skip it for that day. You'll be far better off missing your shower for one day than facing the horror and condemnation that I faced by simply looking at the face of death.
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