Lewis
Lewis got up off the floor, his hands are stained red from the blood he had mopped up and scrubbed off from every surface his mother had seemingly come into contact with. He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand and sniffed a couple of times. Sighing, he wandered into the kitchen, discarding the dirty rag he had used and went over to the sink. Turning on the hot water he thoroughly washed his hands. Frustration took over as he rubbed his skin, trying to get the stains off his hands. Hot tears welled up in his eyes and run down his cheeks. He wiped them off with the sleeve of his shirt. He needed his mom, back home, in her room where she should be, not at the hospital. The water run out of the tap over his now reddening hands, the stains had almost gone but they were now red for a different reason. Sighing, Lewis turned off the tap and wiped his hands on his jeans. He needed to be strong, even though he felt as if he had been ripped at the seams. A strange feeling crept over him, a sense of longing. Not for his mother, not for his best friend, not for his ex-girlfriend but for Karla. He shuddered at the weird sensation but he just couldn’t seem to shake it off. Running his hands over his face he flipped off the kitchen light and headed off to bed. He needed to escape reality for a while, leave to a place where the world was at his feet; his dreams.
