Light

The Problem

The living room downstairs, having been cleaned up for a bit. Not everything but the blood on the floor has been wiped away, the bottles and plastic cup, placed in black plastic bags. Everyone who remained in the house for a couple of hours or minutes were able to get everything cleaned up. Could have just left the house as it used to be but their conscious was enough to make them do everything for a man who did a horrific act they will never forget.

Upstairs, going around the hallway. Everything remaining the same as it used to be. No changes at all. Michael still in his bedroom, sleeping in the bed. Still looking unclean from the amount of blood all around him.

It's 8am. The sleep doesn't feel long. Only able to go to his bed for a few hours. The incident happened 7 hours ago before getting hit by his own guitar.

Yawning, waking up, his eyes open. Raising himself up with a headache. He doesn't remember what happened. Thinking it was the hungover setting in. Probably from the intoxication state he was in. Moving away from the bed slowly, still reeling in from the pain in his head.

Getting up, walking to the bathroom, outside his room. Walking barefoot as he walks towards the bathroom, opening the lights and washing his face.

Turning the sink on, letting the water pour out from it before washing his face. Still unaware of the blood around him, until his vision becomes clear after a while. Noticing blood coming into the water. Feeling shocked and confused, worried over what may have just happened. Turning his attention to his hands. Seeing blood.

What the hell. Wondering to himself. Wishing he just remembered what happened last night. Until he looked at himself in the mirror. Seeing himself in his own reflection. Signs of blood spread around his face. Staring at them in horror. The only thing he starts to wonder is what he may have done last night. Or even thinking if the blood is his... or someone else.

Rubbing his face violently in a faster pace. Not wanting to see it any further. Moving away from the sink, wanting a further look at himself.

His expression, his extreme concern, looking at himself. Clothes a mess, the top of his shirt filled with stains of blood. Including alcohol being spilled at him. Smelling at his clothes, he stinks, really badly. But the one that concerns him is the stains of blood. Nothing he doesn't want to see.

The extreme concern, his anxiety, curdling him, raising his hands, looking around them, even seeing blood in his knuckles. What did he do last night.

A party that's supposed to be the best time of his life, his night for being a first timer. But whatever happened, he doesn't know. A part of him wants to know, but a part of him refuses, in case he may be responsible for what he may have done before.

Taking off everything, letting his body be free from the mess, smell and stains. Twisting the shower handle, reaching for hot water. Doesn't care if the water is really hot and boiling, getting himself cleaned is the only thing he could do. Thinking about his clothes, trying to remember what he may have done but the memory being blurred in his mind, causing himself to be more in fear of what he may have done.

Trying not to think about it further, he continues washing himself. Shampoo on his hair, body wash all around his body from top to bottom. His shower would go on for half an hour. Just remaining there, letting the hot water hurt his body and skin. Not giving a damn slight over how he's feeling and the body aches he may endure throughout the day.

Closing the water from the shower pipe, drying himself with the towel. His hair isn't that long, just needs to wipe his hair with the towel, many times till it becomes less wet and more dry to not wet the clothes he will wear today.

Going to his bedroom, putting on a short sleeve shirt, some trousers in his legs. Putting the socks on for later. Grabbing his hairbrush, brushing his hair, make it look straight, look good and a bit stylish for him. In case anyone sees him in this day.