Out of the Teapot Blood Flows

Thud. Thud. Thud. The thick warm fluid, colors the purely white washbasin red. Red like a bouquet of roses romantically being handed over by a gentleman to the love of his life. Red like the sweetest, most longed for strawberries you taste in the summer. Red like the grand leaves dancing in the chilly autumn winds. Or simply, red like the blood circulating through your veins. For that's what it is; blood, and it's coloring the innocent white of the washbasin, polluting it with the color of sin.

A girl in her mid teen years with a doll like face, that suits the victorian frilly dress she's wearing perfectly, is intensely staring at the mess with sparkling blue eyes. Her skin is beautifully pale, with exception of the delicious pink blush spread across her cheeks, and the honey brown silky hair curls down to her collar bones. The sight, the scent and the sound of dripping blood is to her hypnotizing. It glistens and it sparkles so beautifully in the florescent light that she almost starts to wonder why something as beautiful should be hidden beneath the skin.

Suddenly she snaps out of her trance, opens up the water tap in order to wash away the sinful colored substance and reaches out for a bunch of paper towels to put on top of the gaping wounds. The blood is quick to leak through the layer of paper and she lets out a frustrated sigh as she reaches out for another bunch.

Then it hits her, like lightning out of a clear sky, how will she be able to hide it? Oh well, if she's quick enough and with some luck, she might be able to make it into her room and avoid being, in the literal sense, caught with blood on her hands.

She hardly even reacts as she hears a male gasp followed by a low curse, and it becomes quite obvious that she's exposed. With a cocked eyebrow she turns to look at the sturdy man, who happens to be the same height as herself, with a carefree expression. He is the newest addition to the nursing staff, having only spent a day or two working at the Conroy Mansion. The girl's pale lips even curls up into a brief smile as she holds out her mutilated arm, from which blood now is dripping onto the wooden hallway floor. In a soft voice she speaks the words “fix me, I'm broken.”

The male nurse just stands there motionless in a brief moment as he's slightly taken back, before he with a quick nod motions for the girl to follow him down the broad hallway, whose reddish brown walls are decorated with old paintings. The lamps in the ceiling are casting a weak light to the long corridor.

Another nurse, also male but taller than his co-worker, appears and suppresses a deep sigh at the sight of the bloodstained paper towels, which the doll like girl still is holding up against her damaged arm. “Dolly,” he sounds dejected as he speaks to the girl, with a slight frown upon his forehead and a hint of concern in his hazel eyes. “Are you broken again? Let's get you cleaned up and see what we can do to make you feel better.” His low voice is full of kindness and the way he says it so casually makes it clear that this is a recurring event in the Conroy Mansion. The girl, apparently nicknamed Dolly, agrees to his proposal with a barely noticeable nod and the trio continues to walk down the hallway in silence.

“I'm sorry you had to see this, it happens sometimes,” the taller, more experienced nurse, explains to his workmate, throwing him a sympathetic glance before he unlocks a door leading to an office. The room is bright and spacious, different from your ordinary nurse office, with plenty of space to fit the necessary nursing supplies and medical equipment.

“It's okay,” the shorter man assures and quietly shuts the door behind them.

“Johnny, would you like to dress the wounds?” the taller man offers, as the girl casually jumps up to sit on the examination table. After a short glance at the leaking cuts the shorter man looks up.

“That requires stitches, right?” he asks the more experienced man who smiles kindly back at him.

“Yes, it usually does, but this young lady is very defiant when it comes to that matter. She doesn't want stitches, she always plucks them up by herself. So we don't bother doing that anymore,” he explains with a weak smile and short shrug.

“I see,” the man called Johnny mumbles and starts to clean the wounds with alcohol, his movements very soft and gentle as he does so. The girl doesn't move a muscle during the whole procedure, just sits there calmly watching his every move. Finally the taller nurse breaks the silence.

“Dolly, where's the razor? You know that I can't let you keep it now that I know you possess one,” he speaks carefully, but in a serious tone. Dolly finally turns her head away from the poor new nurse, to look at the other one, with narrowed eyes. Then her pale lips all of sudden curls up into a scornful smile.

“I swallowed it,” she replies, looking him straight in the eyes. He looks at her face carefully, frowning as he concentrates on trying to make out wether she's telling the truth or not. After about a minute's staring contest he shakes his head, with relief painted all over his face and states shortly “no, you didn't. Now, give it to me.”

The smile has disappeared without a trace from the girl's face and it's now reflecting nothing but deep sadness. Her voice is hollow as she speaks, she's utterly calm but she seems terrified at the same time. Her skin tone is now one shade paler than before and her face resolute. “I'm afraid that's impossible, Matt. Now I have to be quiet.”

Matt lets out a deep sigh and groans, he had a feeling that this was going to happen. Whenever the girl claims that she has to be quiet, he knows far too well that he won't be able to get one single word from her until the following day. It's something she just does sometimes, acts like someone has forbidden her to make a sound and that something really bad will happen if she doesn't obey.

“I'll make a note on this in the journal and we'll continue on this conversation in the morning, Dolores,” he declares in a low, serious voice. The use of her real name, instead of Matt's nickname for her, means that he's utterly serious. “Then you can also explain to me why you're not even changed for bed at two in the morning. Now it's time for you to get some sleep, I'll tuck you in,” his voice becomes softer as he speaks the last few words. It's pretty obvious that he knows the girl quite well and cares for her, even if doesn't agree to some of her actions.

“Johnny, could you check if you can find a razor or any similar object in the bathroom you found her in? I'll accompany you soon,” Matt whispers to the other nurse, who's clearly confounded by the whole event, but he nods shortly in response. He's planning on taking a look in that girl's journal later, since she's now made him anxious to find out what's up with her, and he figures that Matt will have some information to share as well.

As he reaches the bathroom the man's thoughts wander to that blond girl with the extraordinarily green eyes he had bumped into earlier that night. She had also worn an old fashioned elegant dress as she passed him in the hallway. But she had ran off into her room, before he had even had the chance to introduce himself.

He kneels on the tiled bathroom floor in the search of an harmful object, but he can't seem to find any. In his view is only the white tiles and a few dark drops of coagulated blood.