Blood On My Hands
I'm sorry that I lost my mind.
She stands there. Alone. Breath fogging the window. Fingers grazing her lips and the skin on her cheek. She’s anticipating his arrival. She’s praying that at any moment he’ll speed around the corner in his car, ready to escort her to the most magical night of her life. It will be perfect. It has to be. She anxiously taps her fingers on the cold window, staring blankly into the street where she lives. She inhales slowly and closes her eyes. And then, just like magic, when she opens them again, he’s there.
She dives behind the curtain, straightening out her dress and checking her hair in the mirror in her hall. Her stomach flips and she smiles to herself. As she turns, she sees his silhouette in the frosted glass of her door. She takes one last look at herself, and then opens the door in one fluid movement, giggling at what she sees. His mouth is open and his finger lingers over the doorbell. Yes, perfect. He laughs too. She smiles as he takes her hand and kisses it softly. From behind his back, he produces a flower. A rose. He hands it to her. Hands intertwined, they begin their descent down her driveway. It’s the beginning of a night neither of them will ever forget.
_____
Twenty minutes later, they’re sitting inside the huge hall which has been transformed from a gymnasium into the setting of their high school prom. He sits close beside her, clasping her hand in his. Pushing his glasses up his long nose with his free hand, he anxiously looks around at everyone else in the room. The boys are all in tuxes, like him, but they look so much better than he does. His tux hangs off his scrawny frame, making him look like he’s a child dressing up in his father’s clothes. He runs his fingers through his hair for the tenth time that night and glances at the girl sitting next to him. She’s so beautiful; how could he be so lucky?
She turns to him.
“I’m super thirsty. Could you go get us some drinks?” He nods quickly and kisses her on the cheek before disappearing into the crowds of people dancing and socializing. As she watches him leave, she smiles disappointedly. It’s such a shame. He’s such a lovely boy. Such a lovely, stupid boy. Stupid stupid stupid.
Moments later he’s back with two cups filled with red liquid. She smiles gratefully and takes a sip of hers. It’s sweet and slides down her throat like honey.
“I need to go to the bathroom; I’ll be right back,” he tells her. She nods and puts her drink back down on the table. As soon as he’s out of sight, she reaches into her bra and pulls out two little pink pills. She drops them in his drink and watches, fascinated, as they fizz and bubble in the liquid and then disappear completely. All gone.
_____
The drinks are finished, and they’re dancing now. Her head is on his shoulder and his clammy hands are nervously clutching her hips. They sway slowly to the music. He’s not much of a dancer, but she doesn’t care. It’s nice to just stand here together, in the middle of everything. Just the two of them. Like there’s nobody else in the world. The song finishes too soon, and she leans up to whisper in his ear.
“I’m super warm. Could we go outside for a while to get some air?” Obediently, he nods again. She pulls him through the heaving crowds of people until they reach the door. Opening it, she sighs as a cool breeze washes over her. It’s beautiful and she relishes it, closing her eyes and smiling. They walk for a few minutes, around the building. She stops and turns to face him, her arms sliding around his neck. He looks down at her. He’s the luckiest guy in the world.
“Dance with me,” she whispers.
He does as he’s told.
It’s so perfect. The sounds of the prom are so faint out here you can actually hear the insects and the breeze whistling through the trees. The moon is their spotlight and they’ve taken center stage. He holds his arm out and she giggles and twirls, and then he pulls him back into her. She’s still laughing when he begins to feel... weird. Things are moving around and drifting away from him. He loses control of his arms and legs and falls to the ground.
She’s still laughing when he passes out.
_____
He wakes up with two black eyes and his hands covered in blood. He gasps as he realises that its his own, and that it’s coming from the deep gash in his abdomen. Cold. That’s what hits him first. Before he can feel the pain, before he can begin to worry what the fuck is going on. It’s bitterly cold, and every inch of his skin is prickling. His eyesight is blurry, and he curses as he realises he isn’t wearing his glasses. Looking down again, he sees that he’s naked. Completely naked. Coiled around his torso underneath the huge cut is what looks and feels like thick, heavy rope. He’s tied to something. Feeling the rough bark with his fingers, he sighs when he realises it’s a tree. Someone has brought him here and left him. Left him to die.
But he’s not alone.
Something is wrong. A feeling, starting in the pit of his stomach, effervesces and bubbles its way into every cell in his shivering body.
Someone is watching him.
And then she appears out of nowhere. She’s blurry and distorted, but he knows it’s her. In one hand she holds the rose he gave her. In the other she brandishes something much more sinister than a flower. He sees it glint in the moonlight. Hot tears leak from his eyes when he realises that it’s an axe. He watches as she delicately places the rose on the ground, stroking the petals, admiring the deep red colour. And then, she lifts the axe over her head and brings it down, cutting the head from the rose. He wonders if this is a preview of what’s going to happen to him. She composes herself and begins slowly walking towards him. Her features become clearer. Her dress is ripped and covered in blood. His blood.
She knows he doesn’t have long left. He’s lost so much blood. She can see her reflection in the pools of it at his bare feet.
“Why are you doing this?” He sounds drained. He’s searching her eyes for guilt, remorse, sympathy. Anything.
“Because,” she smiles. “You gave me a rose.”
“Yeah... so?” Confusion distorts his features, but her smile only widens.
“I wanted a lily.”
She dives behind the curtain, straightening out her dress and checking her hair in the mirror in her hall. Her stomach flips and she smiles to herself. As she turns, she sees his silhouette in the frosted glass of her door. She takes one last look at herself, and then opens the door in one fluid movement, giggling at what she sees. His mouth is open and his finger lingers over the doorbell. Yes, perfect. He laughs too. She smiles as he takes her hand and kisses it softly. From behind his back, he produces a flower. A rose. He hands it to her. Hands intertwined, they begin their descent down her driveway. It’s the beginning of a night neither of them will ever forget.
_____
Twenty minutes later, they’re sitting inside the huge hall which has been transformed from a gymnasium into the setting of their high school prom. He sits close beside her, clasping her hand in his. Pushing his glasses up his long nose with his free hand, he anxiously looks around at everyone else in the room. The boys are all in tuxes, like him, but they look so much better than he does. His tux hangs off his scrawny frame, making him look like he’s a child dressing up in his father’s clothes. He runs his fingers through his hair for the tenth time that night and glances at the girl sitting next to him. She’s so beautiful; how could he be so lucky?
She turns to him.
“I’m super thirsty. Could you go get us some drinks?” He nods quickly and kisses her on the cheek before disappearing into the crowds of people dancing and socializing. As she watches him leave, she smiles disappointedly. It’s such a shame. He’s such a lovely boy. Such a lovely, stupid boy. Stupid stupid stupid.
Moments later he’s back with two cups filled with red liquid. She smiles gratefully and takes a sip of hers. It’s sweet and slides down her throat like honey.
“I need to go to the bathroom; I’ll be right back,” he tells her. She nods and puts her drink back down on the table. As soon as he’s out of sight, she reaches into her bra and pulls out two little pink pills. She drops them in his drink and watches, fascinated, as they fizz and bubble in the liquid and then disappear completely. All gone.
_____
The drinks are finished, and they’re dancing now. Her head is on his shoulder and his clammy hands are nervously clutching her hips. They sway slowly to the music. He’s not much of a dancer, but she doesn’t care. It’s nice to just stand here together, in the middle of everything. Just the two of them. Like there’s nobody else in the world. The song finishes too soon, and she leans up to whisper in his ear.
“I’m super warm. Could we go outside for a while to get some air?” Obediently, he nods again. She pulls him through the heaving crowds of people until they reach the door. Opening it, she sighs as a cool breeze washes over her. It’s beautiful and she relishes it, closing her eyes and smiling. They walk for a few minutes, around the building. She stops and turns to face him, her arms sliding around his neck. He looks down at her. He’s the luckiest guy in the world.
“Dance with me,” she whispers.
He does as he’s told.
It’s so perfect. The sounds of the prom are so faint out here you can actually hear the insects and the breeze whistling through the trees. The moon is their spotlight and they’ve taken center stage. He holds his arm out and she giggles and twirls, and then he pulls him back into her. She’s still laughing when he begins to feel... weird. Things are moving around and drifting away from him. He loses control of his arms and legs and falls to the ground.
She’s still laughing when he passes out.
_____
He wakes up with two black eyes and his hands covered in blood. He gasps as he realises that its his own, and that it’s coming from the deep gash in his abdomen. Cold. That’s what hits him first. Before he can feel the pain, before he can begin to worry what the fuck is going on. It’s bitterly cold, and every inch of his skin is prickling. His eyesight is blurry, and he curses as he realises he isn’t wearing his glasses. Looking down again, he sees that he’s naked. Completely naked. Coiled around his torso underneath the huge cut is what looks and feels like thick, heavy rope. He’s tied to something. Feeling the rough bark with his fingers, he sighs when he realises it’s a tree. Someone has brought him here and left him. Left him to die.
But he’s not alone.
Something is wrong. A feeling, starting in the pit of his stomach, effervesces and bubbles its way into every cell in his shivering body.
Someone is watching him.
And then she appears out of nowhere. She’s blurry and distorted, but he knows it’s her. In one hand she holds the rose he gave her. In the other she brandishes something much more sinister than a flower. He sees it glint in the moonlight. Hot tears leak from his eyes when he realises that it’s an axe. He watches as she delicately places the rose on the ground, stroking the petals, admiring the deep red colour. And then, she lifts the axe over her head and brings it down, cutting the head from the rose. He wonders if this is a preview of what’s going to happen to him. She composes herself and begins slowly walking towards him. Her features become clearer. Her dress is ripped and covered in blood. His blood.
She knows he doesn’t have long left. He’s lost so much blood. She can see her reflection in the pools of it at his bare feet.
“Why are you doing this?” He sounds drained. He’s searching her eyes for guilt, remorse, sympathy. Anything.
“Because,” she smiles. “You gave me a rose.”
“Yeah... so?” Confusion distorts his features, but her smile only widens.
“I wanted a lily.”