This is my attempt to serialise a book... I will be writing a chapter every week (probably) and I will be posting it here... I also need a title for the book.

Sunday 31 January 2010

01. The Morning After

Morning… He slowly opens his eyes and takes a quick look out of the window. He wished he could say that the bright sunlight suddenly blinded his eyes but this morning was just as grey and colourless as the one the day before and the one the day before that.
Still, the light is a bit too much for his sleepy and hangovered eyes. He quickly closes them and his hand reaches across the bed.

He feels something wet and sticky. “What the hell did I do last night?” He wonders as the toll of last night is starting to manifest itself as a blinding headache “and more to the point with whom?”

He starts to open his eyes again, very slowly, to have a look. Flashes of last night’s events slowly flood his clouded and smoke filled brain.

A bar, well that’s not that unusual. There have been many bars lately. Flashes of a blonde woman. Now that is a bit unusual. It’s a well known fact that he preferred brunettes but it’s also quite well known that he is anything but a ‘hair-colour’ racist so he doesn’t worry too much about that. A few drinks, a few tequila shots, which obviously explain the throbbing noise in his ears he just noticed and of course goes some way to explain the discarded underwear he sees hanging from his drawer handle. It looks expensive. “Moving up in the world…” he thinks and he smiles.

He finally turns around, still smiling, to see who it was who kept him company last night and he just freezes, a look of absolute horror wiping that smile of his face.
The bed is empty! Well, empty, as in no one in it but himself. Him and what looks like a pool of blood. He looks down his own body. He is naked and covered in wet, sticky, warm blood.

Panic now takes hold as he jumps out of his bed screaming.
-"No, no, no! Please God, not again…"
Why he asks God for help? He doesn’t believe in Him and in anyway it’s got nothing to do with Him.
He looks around the room. He’s in there all by himself so he quickly checks in the mirror. He’s covered in blood but it’s obviously not his. No one can bleed that much and be able to walk around, which brings home the question. Whose blood is it and more to the point where he or she is? Though something tells him it’s a she.
He turns around scanning the room, scanning for a clue of what happened or maybe looking for a body. His eyes quickly focus on the wall above the bed. There, written using the only liquid in plenty supply in the room, are the words:

Hi, babe thanx for last nite!

xxx

He feels his knees buckling and he just lets himself fall to the floor clutching his head in his hands as he starts to murmur
-“No, no, please don’t let it be that again. Don’t let it be her again!!”

An hour passes and he’s still on the floor. He finally finds the strength to get up and he heads for the bathroom. First things, first! He needs to get cleaned up and he needs to clean the room. There is lot of blood in there but most of it is on the bed, except of course for what was on him.
-“Fucking bitch!” He bursts as he steps in the shower, the water now running down his body, washing away the blood.
He watches as the blood goes down the drain, swirling and making beautiful patterns on its way to nowhere.
-“She’s back, I can’t believe that fucking bitch is back!” Anger is slowly taking over his panic and as he tries to remember what happened last night!
He steps out of the shower and he walks in the room. The sight making him stumble, as he stares at the bed in utter disbelief. Sadness and desperation try to overwhelm him but he doesn’t let them. “I’ve been here before; I know what must be done!”
HE gets dressed, an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He will not be using these again, so no need to worry about what to wear.
Gathering the bed sheets and stuffing them in a black garbage bag, he looks at the mattress, it’s also drenched in blood. This will take a bit more thinking. So much blood! “Maybe if I let it dry and then cut it up I will be able to move it easier”. He lays some plastic bags under it to stop any blood dropping on the floor.

He heads out of the room and makes his way to the kitchen. Some coffee and some time to sit down and think.

“So, she’s back and she’s not going to hold anything back.” He’s got to think and the pounding in his head, although now a lot less profound, is still there; so he pour a shot of whiskey in the coffee.

“Where was I last night? I mean obviously I was at a bar but which one? Did anyone see me leave with…” who was he with anyway? He must remember to check the house for her bag, though he doubts he will find anything. She’s always been very careful in the past and it’s a long chance a lot has changed since the last time she crossed his path.
It sounds cold but at least he's almost sure he doesn’t have to worry about the body, she’s obviously taken care of it. The only reason for the blood bath was for his benefit, to let him know that she’s back. He just needs to take care of the cleaning up. It’s how it always was anyway. She had her fun and he cleaned up the mess, the good old days.