It started off with just a dot in the middle of my palm. A dot so red it was almost black. The color of blood. I woke up to this stain.
No matter how much I scrubbed, scratched, or peeled, it stayed. With each scratch, I could feel my body begin to heat. The kind of heat that emitted from within when you were terrified.
Why won’t it leave?
With each rinse, that crimson speck stayed the same and showed no sign of fading.
Make it go.
I could feel the bile rise in my throat and the tears spill from my eyes. Why won’t this damn thing leave me?
I had no choice but to continue with my day but that feeling and speck stayed with me throughout.
Days passed and I had begun to accept it. What more could I do? It didn’t hurt nor did it emotionally disturb me anymore. It had become a part of me, like a scar obtained in battle. What battle though, I wouldn’t know.
Within weeks that mole sized dot had expanded to the size of a quarter. With that, my dread returned with such force it left me vomiting. My knees buckled and my anguished cries filled the empty house.
Whats happening to me?
I fell asleep on the floor. My hand as far from me as possible.
Soon after, the palms of both hands were covered with that sickly color. My mind was in turmoil. I couldn’t sleep, eat, or talk. My bloodied palms consumed my soul.
I sat there and watched it as it slowly dripped down to my fingertips and crawled up my arms like a steady stream. Within months it had reached my neck.
This cardinal color glistened as blood would.
Soon it reached my chest.
I could feel it moving.
It seemed giddy.
That stain had covered my chest completely.
Night had fallen and the moon glanced through the window.
Like a lover wanting to play
I stripped naked and laid on my bed
Watching my skin gleam in the moonlight.
It started to trickle into my eyes.
I wept in pleasure.
I wept in pain.
I wept as the crimson liquid burned a trail inside me.
It seeped into my heart.