Split

Blood

The day dragged as I paced the room, waiting to hear from Patricia as to when she was planning to let the beast kill my classmates. I don't know what time it was when I woke up, but it seemed like three lifetimes before she came to my room with food. She was looking especially happy, maybe trying to keep me calm, and she set the tray on the bed.
"I know you must be on edge, but we will keep you locked safely in here and I've brought you some books to take your mind off of it all."
She put them on the bed too, "we will be in first thing in the morning to see how you are. You don't need to be afraid. I must go now, I have a lot to prepare for. I will see you in the morning."

She left the room quietly leaving me, once again, to fret about the events that would take place that night.

It was a long time before I heard movement around the building and I sat in the corner of my room, trembling as I heard the sounds of a struggle not far away. Just when I thought it was over someone screamed and I clamped may hands over my ears, closing my eyes as I cried. How could this be happening?
When I built up the courage to take my hands away from my ears, the screaming had stopped and all was quiet.
I shivered on the concrete floor, wishing that I wasn't alone in the cold little room.

I waited for Patricia to return and I thought about all he things I'd say to her... how she was a monster and that I'd rather die than spend one more second with her, and that I don't want to have any part in what she was doing. The more I thought about it the angrier I got, and I psyched myself up for a fight.

I was ready to scream at her when I eventually heard the lock turn in the door, but it wasn't Patricia that entered.
Dennis burst into the room, panic clear on his face, and slammed the door behind him. The anger was quickly replaced by fear when I thought that maybe something had gone wrong... maybe they had misjudged the situation... maybe the beast was coming for me after all...
Dennis didn't face me, just stood with his palms flat on the door and breathing heavily.
"Dennis? What's happened?" I tested, surprised I could say anything at all, but he didn't acknowledge that I'd spoken.
"Dennis?"
He turned to face me, almost stumbling as he leaned against the door. He wasn't wearing his glasses, or a shirt for that matter, and he stared at me through vacant eyes.
"Are you okay?"

"I..." he swallowed hard, "I don't know..."

"What's happened?"

"It's happened."

"They're dead?" I asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

He nodded slowly and I went over to him, "what's the matter?"

"I... There's... the blood... it's..." He lifted his trembling hands and looked uneasily down at them, "it's everywhere..." he wasn't wrong, he was covered in blood... but I was more concerned that it was on his face too.
He must have seen me staring at his crimson lips and wiped his mouth, nervously bringing his hand away to stare at the new coating of blood on his fingers. He swallowed again and, pushing past me, ran to the bathroom to be sick.
I followed him in, not sure what to do and stood in the doorway.
When his stomach had stopped lurching he looked into the toilet and immediately reeled back, sitting against the wall opposite with a shocked expression. I didn't want to imagine what he'd just thrown up, but I could take a guess, and he covered his face with shaking hands.
"Oh god.." I took the hand towel hanging near the sink and ran it under the tap, then knelt in front of him. He was reluctant to uncover his face, so I gently put my hand on his and lowered them so they rested on his lap. He didn't look me in the eye, just stared through me while I wiped the blood from his face.
"Talk to me," I looked into his eyes but he continued to look past me.

"They're out there... they're still out there... just laying there... Patricia wants me to get rid of the bodies but... I can't do it. I can smell the blood... I can taste it..." he covered his mouth and grimaced, trying not to let his stomach start churning again.

"I'll get you some water," I was about to stand when he let out a shaky breath.

"I..." he closed his eyes, "I can feel it on me."

"You can use the shower, I'll wait out there and if you want to talk, then we'll talk."

He nodded, still not meeting my gaze, and I helped him to his feet. I left the bathroom and listened to the water run.