Link Dane

FIFTEEN

| dedication: dewyzouis - for that amazing cover |

FIFTEEN

My hands were bleeding by the end of the night. Some of the blood my own, some belonged to what was covered in my room.

The bile that had risen up my throat hadn't disappeared, although it did well to nearly block any air from coming both in and out. The metallic stench filled my whole head, leaving me dizzy several of times but I fought with little strength I has buried to keep going.

I was on my hands and feet, following the trail of red liquid, scrubbing with an old pair of trackies that I snatched out my closet. The walls were covered in the same blood and every time I looked up, I swallowed down a sob. Droplets of blood fell to the ground and when I titled my head up slowly, I saw he even had reached the ceiling.

The colours swirled in my head until it was the only thing I saw. I started scrubbing, washing the blood off everything it covered. I pushed myself up and quickly stumbled to my closet, ready to pick out another piece of clothing that would help me clean this all up.

I threw the blood-soaked track suit bottoms to the side and turned back around to my room. The state of it was still the same, except the small corner I had started on. "Oh my god," I sobbed, one hand covering my hand so my cries didn't wake up my parents but this avalanche of emotions became hard to sustain. I bit down my hand, tears streaming down my eyes as I kept scanning my whole room.

"Oh my god," I kept breathing out repeatedly.

I managed to calm myself down and get back to cleaning it, my bare feet soaked in the cold liquid and fear aroused in my mind. If he managed to get in my room, when I was helpless, God knows what he was capable off.

I had a robe in my hand, and a few towels and I carried on scrubbing. I plucked the picture that sat in the middle of the wall and scrunching it up in a tight fist. When that wasn't enough to erase the image out of my head, I started tearing up the picture into pieces.

"Shit shit shit," I spat, throwing the pieces down on the floor before dropping down to my knees again. I picked up the towel and swiped the floor clean, all the while, chanting incoherent words to myself.

I stood back on my feet and reached for the walls, scrubbing so hard until the motion of going up and down disappeared and I stopped feeling anything. I tilted my head upwards, a small cry falling out of my tongue when I saw that the ceiling was covered in red splotches and I didn't know how to get up there.

"How how how how," I cried out, throwing the wet towel on the floor.

I quickly had a plan and hurriedly escaped out my room, dashing into the nearest bathroom. I picked a clean towel off the shelf and soaked it with water before dragging myself back in my room.

At the door, I nearly lost my footing but I caught myself before I slipped. With the wet towel in my hand, I pushed my desk in the middle of my room, directly under the part where the most splotches were. With the wet towel draped over my shoulder, I hoisted myself up my desk and nearly cried out in relieved when my hands reached the ceiling.

I started cleaning up there, my heartbeat picking up because I was finally getting somewhere.

When the ceiling was clean enough, I jumped down and ran back to the bathroom again. Doing the same thing, with wetting a clean towel, I raced back to my room and managed to clean up everything.

By the end, I stood in the middle of my room with just my bra and underwear. I had a whole pile of clothes and towels that were red stained, including my pyjamas and I had no clue what to do with them.