"There's a woman sitting on my window ledge," I said quietly and calmly into the phone.

   "What?" Bryan responded with confusion in his voice.

   "You heard me, there is a woman sitting on my window ledge," I repeated.

   "A real one?"

   "No, a fake one.  Obviously it's a real one!"

   "Then how come you're so calm?"

   "I don't know… She just doesn't seem like a threat."

   "There's a woman sitting on your window ledge, and you don't think she's a threat?"

   "Yes."

   "You are by far THE craziest person I know.  What if she's stalking you? Or getting ready to rob you! Or... Or… To KILL you!"

   "Oh don't be such a drama queen.  She looks too innocent to do any of that."

  "Oh man, I don't know why I even bother.  When you return to reality and become sane again, call me back.  No, better, call 9-1-1.  Jesus."

   "But what should I do about the --" click.  Great, just like Bryan to go and hang up on me when there's a woman sitting on my windowsill, I thought to myself.

   I wandered back into my room, where the window lady was sitting.  She obviously hadn't tried to move.  She either didn't hear me come in, or just didn't care that I came back.  
   I was contemplating talking to her, but she just seemed so happy and peaceful sitting there, basking in the sun.  But at the same time something else radiated from her.  It wasn't sadness exactly, more like she was longing for something.  Actually, if she were a bird, I would have said she'd lost her wings.  Just staring at the warm open sky wishing she could go back.

   I snapped myself out of one of those thinking gazes I get sometimes.
You know, the kind where you look like you're staring at something, but really your mind is just in an alternate universe, or something.  Then I suppose the reality of the situation dawned upon me – there was a strange woman, sitting on my window ledge, and she obviously wasn't going anywhere anytime soon – and if she were it would be more than likely into my home, which is
something I didn't exactly want.  So… What do I do about it? I thought to myself.  Should I just ignore her and hope she goes away?  Should I try and talk to her?  Or do what Bryan said and call the police?  Well, the first option would have probably drove me crazy with curiosity, and the last still seemed a little too drastic.  So, I decided I might as well go out on a limb and talk
to the mysterious woman.  I just hoped curiosity wouldn't "kill the cat" this time.

   Slowly, I walked towards the large window, took a deep breath, and
lightly rapped on the it.  The woman didn't budge.  I knocked again, slightly harder this time, still, she didn't move an inch.  So I figured I'd take an even more direct form of trying to talk to this woman.  

   I reluctantly opened the window and said, "H-hello?"

   The woman turned around enough so that I could see her face.

   I screamed, ran, and fell down the stairs.  I could feel a searing pain in my
side as I tumbled down, but I didn't care, I just wanted to get out of there. As
soon as I'd gotten up, I'd realized something.  "Shit," I said out loud, "I forgot to close the damned window."

   Discarding that thought, I ran into the kitchen – I figured I could
escape out the side door. That… Thing probably figured I'd take the front entrance, considering it would have been a lot quicker and easier for me to escape.  

   Or so I thought.  

   As I'd entered the kitchen I thought I was going to puke on the spot.  All I saw was blood… Blood everywhere.  It was disgustingly horrible.  Blood on the walls, the ceiling, the cupboards.

   Suddenly I felt this icy cool grip on my arms.  I looked quickly at
the hands that grabbed me and saw them gloved in beautiful lace… Except covered in blood.  I screamed again and tried to run, but I slipped and fell into a crimson red puddle.  As I was trying to scramble to my feet again, that thing pushed me back down onto my stomach as I banged against the
floor once more.  I felt its grip again and then… I don't know… I woke up here… But I could have sworn that thing bit me.

   "Hmm… I see… But you still insist your name is Helen Walker, and you
live on 246 Baker Street?"

   "I already told you this, yes, that's me."

   "Well I'm sorry Miss… Baker.  But we've already been in contact with a Miss Baker of that residence, and family, friends, and the neighbours insist that's her"

   "But… What do you mean?"

   "Oh you know what I mean.  If you insist on lying you're going to have to come with me."

   "But… But…"

   Then, I looked down at my hands.  Laced, blood-stained gloves...