Restless Whispers

Blood Stained

"There are many advantages in puppets. They never argue. They have no crude views about art. They have no private lives." - Oscar Wilde

The rain pitter pattered on the window pane in a soft rhythm. I had already been awake for hours, but hadn't moved from my bed, instead staring up at the ceiling, memories and embarrassing stories from years before flooded my mind.

My body ached and I hadn't known why. Nightmares kept me awake, one's I'd experienced for so long. Rolling over I stared out the window, grey light pouring into the room, rain drops streaking the window.

It was entrancing.

So entrancing I almost forgot about the nightmares that had kept me awake and the ache in my bones that even Advil couldn't help.

A couple more minutes passed before I finally swung my feet over the side of the bed touching the cold wooden floor. I squeaked from the shock of it but got over it quickly. Stringing my fingers through my thick, black, tangled hair I sighed at the thought of it's maintenance and just put it up into a high ponytail slouching my shoulders as I looked around in the dim lit room. It looked like it's usual neat self, nothing out of the ordinary unlike other days.

I casually looked down and noticed my shirt had blood stained blotches on it.  I gasped, pulling at the shirt, it took me a minute before even realizing the blood was still wet and immediately took it off throwing it on the floor.

I had to go and say something.

I waved my hand like a cat does when they get their paw wet and just stared at the goo for a moment. My gaze went back to that of the shirt laying on the ground before finally snapping out of it, my hands shook unsure what to do, only knowing to never call the cops.

Once I was finally able to move, I collected the shirt, throwing it into the sink and lighting a match dropping it on the shirt and watching it burn silently. I didn't know where the blood came from or how it had gotten there but on days like this, I learned to not ask questions. I had to collect my thoughts, and the best way I knew how to do that was showering. I quickly headed to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror as the water warmed up, I noticed the small bruise on my cheek and a cut on my lip. It was as if I was fighting myself in my sleep. I knew I hadn't fought anyone, I wasn't one to be confrontational. In fact, I was quite well-reserved. I preferred to be left alone, just like I left others alone.

Or so I thought anyway.

I had to remember to cover that bruise up, I didn't need any questions asked at the fashion show.

Noticing the steam seep out from behind the curtain and cloud up the mirror, I snapped out of my trance and stripped off the rest of my clothing getting into the shower. Right away, hot water pounded on my back soothing my tense and sore muscles. Rolling my neck and shoulders, I let myself become more and more relaxed. Thoughts escaped my mind of everything that had happened so far this morning.

I was finally starting to feel refreshed and move on from another strange occurrence.