The Floor

I wake up to a pool of my own blood gory and chunky with a smell that only serves to remind me of my regrets. I’m covered head to toe in the blood of my mistakes the colours stained on my best jeans. I’m only a child. There are flashes of yesterday. The cold stills of my begotten fate harbour mistakes I’d rather not know. But I will. A man walks in the door he greets me and I know him a friend. He bends over me my plight a joy to him. He offers me secrets I know in exchange for satisfaction his sultry smile is seething but I’ve lost the right to seethe. She was here you know. The words burn a hole in my chest as the demons in my nights burrow begin to reveal themselves. “You’re a mess” she said. As she washes the blood from my hair.