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Read parts 1 and 2 here and here...
Her mouth gaped open as she saw the bloody hand-prints covering the
wall near the light switch. Her head swarmed as she looked to see his
hands covered in blood, to his elbows. He didn’t seem to be the least
bit shocked or concerned, and she wondered if this was how it was
supposed to be. Behind her, the bed lay rumpled with a pool of red
blood where she had been only moments ago.
She looked at him as he cracked the door open to talk to the voice
on the other side, and unable to make sense of any of it, she gathered
her things and pulled the door open enough for her to slide out between
them. But the boy on the other side had already seen. His eyes became
large and his mouth turned into a snarl as he pointed to her, demanding
to know what she’d done and how she could possibly bloody up his room.
It was then she looked down and realized that the blood was all
hers, and for the first time she could feel it dripping down the inside
of her pants leg.
The other boy, the one with blood on his hands, told him to be
quiet, to let her go. And, she ran. Out of the room, and into the
bathroom - unrolling as many squares of toilet paper she could off the
roll, sticking them inside her panties. She stuffed extra tissue in
her pocket as she quietly peaked out the door. She could hear the boys
arguing in the other room, one of them angry because his mattress had
been “soaked through.” She quietly ran down the stairs, and softly
told her friend they needed to leave NOW and her friend promptly
complied at hearing the urgency in her voice.
“What happened?” Her best friend asked as they drove silently
against the black town. “We…had sex. I’m bleeding.” She said, her
voice distant and steady.
They arrived at her best friend’s home and she went straight to the
bathroom to change out the tissue paper she’d carelessly rolled and
stuffed into her panties. The whole lot had soaked through in the
matter of only a few minutes, so she grabbed a panty-liner from her
friend’s bathroom vanity. As she sat on the toilet, she could hear the
blood slowly trickling into the clear water, turning it red. She
shoved the panty-liner back and opted instead for an overnight maxi pad.
Slowly, she got up and washed her hands - believing this was nothing
but normal. When she opened the door, she could hear the soft giggles
of her friend as she sat, talking on the phone to the boy she’d just
met. Her friend paused, looking at her - searching for a clue to
explain the expression that had taken residence on her face. “I’m
going to bed,” she said, pointing to the bedroom door that they
shared. Her friend nodded, and then she walked away, leaving her
friend on the couch.
Suddenly, she was awake again - as if she’d been startled, but the
room was dark and quiet. She felt the bed beside her but her friend
hadn’t come in yet. Trying to see the clock, she squinted to make out
the red numbers. It’d only been an hour since she’d laid down. She
tried to get comfortable, twisting and turning, but she couldn’t get
rid of the aching that spread through her down there. It throbbed
just enough to keep her from falling back to sleep.
Slowly, she stood back up and walked the few steps to the doorway,
where her own hand shot out and grasped the door frame, keeping her
from falling. Her best friend put the phone down, cautiously eyeing
her “Are you…alright?”
Silently, she shook her head. “I think I’m going to pass out,” she added quietly.
“I have to go, I’ll call you back,” Her friend said into the phone, hanging up.
Her friend was beside her, helping her back to the bathroom where
she sat again. This time, though, there was more blood. It steadily
streamed into the toilet in small amounts, occasionally with a slight
“plop” as it hit the water. She looked at her friend, embarrassed, and
asked, “Are you supposed to bleed like this…after…you know?”
Her friend, deep in thought, shook her head. “I’m not really sure,
but I don’t think so. You should call the hospital or something.”
With that, the phone was handed to her and she began to call her
gynecologist, although she had no clue why since they would definitely
not be open during the wee hours of the night. The answering service
answered, and was barely helpful, telling her that some people bled
more than others and if she was concerned to go to the hospital.
