When the Blood Smears- Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Lost & Found

Normally the alarm doesn’t bother me. The high pitched beeping noise often drowns in my dreams and to be honest, I’m usually up before it goes off anyway. Today is not a normal day though. I figure since I was up all night, digging, puking, showering, you name it; I might just give myself the day off.

I can hear mum’s footsteps pacing up the stairs. The rhythm is gentle. I wait patiently for the shadow beneath the door, before calling out.

“Mum…” I stop realizing the lack of energy I have.

The golden knob turns and half her body enters.

“Yes Marcy?”

“Mum, can I stay home today? I don’t feel so great.”

She smiles warmly.

“I know that dear. You didn’t flush the toilet last night.”

My face steams with embarrassment. I start to mumble something but she stops me.

“It’s alright. I called the high school already.”

Without another word, she shifts back out the door and closes it. I want to call her back, tell her what happened. The thought nearly crosses my mind before I come to my senses. I remember the box and how empty it was. I’m sure that I buried him, no mistake there. I haven’t taken much consideration until now and I’m sure it won’t be far from my dreams. Something isn’t right, and worse, I know it.

If at all possible, a mirror should only be used when glancing at one’s self. However, mine has a different custom which includes staying put and staring at nothing but the wall.

I do imagine that as I dozed off not too long ago, someone could have moved the mirror, but nevertheless, I’m a skeptical person.

No longer against the closet door, it’s now sitting up on my dresser. I sit a moment, locking eyes with myself. There are distinct reasons why I don’t use a mirror in the first place, my reflection being one of them. Besides the dark ragged layers, my hair was never the soft type. Always getting in my way, felt more like a horses tail. The green eyes staring back hated me and I knew it. Besides that, my figure isn’t all that awful. No extra weight hanging over my jeans, hips wide enough to get attention, nothing extraordinary. I sigh deeply.

After stretching, I force myself to stand, wobbling the way I do every morning. Peering down, I find a towel at my feet, must be from last night. No matter, I’ll use it.

The water is hot, steam clinging to the window. When I step out, I’m surrounded by a cloud of warm air. It’s almost soothing. That is, until broken. A shriek so loud, only one person could be behind it. Without thinking, I race to the window, cringing as it creaks open. A rush of cold air sends me back the other way rummaging for a new towel, then back to the window.

At first all I can see is the neighbor’s daughter, Francine standing square in the middle of her front lawn. I glance to the door, waiting for Mr. Freddick to come rushing out in hysterics, but he doesn’t. That’s when I notice a figure, too hard to make out, walking into view, a tall man, thin, and yes, the outline of glasses. It’s him. But that’s not all. He’s carrying something, something warm and cuddly. Before my heart can sink any further, Francine screams.

“Daddy, where did you find him? Where did you find Skittles?!”