Scars Bleed Gold

Questionable Ethics

I didn't get any sleep. How could I? My heart couldn't stop pounding. That damned moment when I realized what I had done was all my mind could conjure, stepping back and seeing his mangled maw. The empty eye socket, dripping blood like a faucet. His eyeball is probably just sitting on my front lawn. Their bodies, too. Their bodies especially.

Because of little ol' me.

Dragging a hand down my face, I tried in vain to once again push those thoughts away, however, all that did was make my face feel funny. Another flash of the soldier's face. The knife was covered in blood, as well as my hands. And that blood has now been wiped on my face.

I moved to sit up, trying to get to the bathroom but met resistance. Mal grunted in her sleep as she tried to pull me closer. I needed to get up, but I couldn't wake her. Carefully gripping her arm, lifting and folding it against her chest, I extracted myself from her and stood. Mal grunted again as I left the room, stumbling down the familiar path to the bathroom.

The bright fluorescent light made me flinch as I flicked the switch. My reflection did too, a smeared handprint covered my face. I turned the faucet on and scrubbed my hands. The blood didn't come off. I squirted some soap into one hand and scrubbed some more. It stung the open cuts in my palms but that didn't matter right now. The suds rinsed away, and the blood was still there, bright red as if it were fresh out of the vein. I needed more soap.

I kept scrubbing, and scrubbing, scrubbing until the flesh was raw. Blood still remained on my hands. I cupped my hands under the flow of water and splashed my face, intent on at least ridding myself of something. I scrubbed. Added more soap. Scrubbed harder until every bump and bruise on my face felt new again. I grabbed a towel and dried myself off, tossing it back onto the counter.

The handprint was gone. I looked down at my shaking hands. Red in color, but free of blood.

I'm seeing things.

"I've lost it..." I muttered as I shut off the light and trudged back to the guest room. Mal was curled up on the floor still, however now clutching the bag tightly in my absence. It almost made me smile.

Knowing that I wasn't going to get any sleep I decided I should head downstairs, maybe watch some TV to try and take my mind off of things. Although, I couldn't just leave Mal on the floor.

Doubling over, I scooped her lanky form up and set her down on the bed. Just doing that was a struggle as she was heavier than she looked. I pulled a blanket up and over her, but before I could turn and leave, her eyes caught my attention. Her glowing orbs were materializing into a dull glow before vanishing again, blinking in and out of existence. Like she was simply drifting in and out of consciousness.

"There's always something new with you, huh?" I whispered. Mal mumbled something I couldn't understand in reply and hugged a pillow. With that I went downstairs, taking special care to step over the creaky step.

The second I touched the landing I heard a helicopter pass overhead. One had been in the area making constant passes, probably for the weather channel. I shook my head and hunted for the remote, finally finding it and plopping down on the couch, tuning in to whatever was on.

If I was asked what I watched, I wouldn't have been able to answer. The sun was up before I could even realize it, and Meghan was marching down the staircase to the kitchen. A few minutes later Gannyn followed her lead, hair plastered to one side of his head. I shut off the TV and followed, sitting down at the table while they milled about. Meghan was making coffee while Gannyn made cereal. They were apparently in the middle of a debate about how edible coffee was when I entered, their talking faltering.

"Hey, dude. You're up kinda..." Gannyn glanced at the microwave's display. "Kinda early. It's barely six."

"Yeah, didn't sleep. You're up too. Last I checked you weren't a morning person either."