Jack stared down at the mess on his hands.

They were coated, covered in slick liquid, trailing down his wrists and slipping between his fingers.

Jacks lips twitched, sketching into a smile.

He could almost hear his mother’s voice in the back of his head, gushing at the mess he’d made.

Jack, look at you! You’re dirty; completely filthy. What have you done?

The bedroom door creaked open, Alex staring down at the body, the boyfriend, the mess.

“Oh, God.”

Jack closed his eyes and waited. He knew Alex wouldn’t like the trouble he’d caused; he didn’t like Jack to get dirty.

“What have you done?”