BLOOD SIGN

Charlotte Cane

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𝕀 𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙 𝕀 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕚𝕕.

“For art our Father and Mother in Heaven protect us from all evils. For you are the most high and reverend above all. Praise be to you. Amen.” I gripped my cross and ended my prayer with a bow of reverence.

For a few moments, I kept my eyes tightly locked together as I took in deep breaths.

“Please.” I swallowed hard. “Protect us and keep my mother safe.”

Gradually, I tugged open my heavy eyelids and stood up from my knees. I had to blink a few times to adjust to the blister of light that surrounded my blurry vision.

The sunlight coming in from my windows was harsh. It was a sharp white fiery light that felt as if it was burning the cornea of my weary eyes.

With a sigh, I paced away from my bedside where I normally did morning prayer after making my bed. I squinted as I stood my window and hurriedly pulled the blinds.

For a brief moment, through the sheen white fabric of my curtains, I could see the glow of morning light on the outside scenery. The small colorful neighborhood suburban houses filled every street of my neighborhood. Cars perfectly parked in driveways, were shimmering and house windows were gleaming. The sun was a yellow orb rising from the horizon settling flame to the entire neighborhood from house to the natural landscape of manicured trees and trimmed rose bushes.

It’s beautiful out today, much like it always is here in Lakeland Springs.

It should be a good day.

It’s going to be a good day.

And if it’s a good day, then like Mother used to say, never take it for granted. Be grateful to be alive. To thrive. To exist.

“I appreciate that I’m alive here. I appreciate that I get to see this wonderful view. I’m happy to—.” I have to clench my eyes shut when a sharp ray of sunlight cuts into my weary morning sight.

It stings for a little.

With a smile towards the bright light of day, I turned away from my window and stood in the center of my room.

Everything was just in place.

I made my bed. I fluffed my pillows. I swept the floor the night before. I organised my work desk. I packed my backpack. Everything.

It had to be all clean and neat. I didn’t want Father to get mad at me. He wouldn’t like it if I made a mess of everything. I have to keep everything clean. Just like mother used to say, we must keep everything clean and pure.

My eyes gradually panned around my room before they landed on my wall clock. The sliver clock read an alarming 7:05 AM.

I was going to be late if I didn’t get a move on.

With a yawn, I pushed my arms up, widely stretching them out. My polka dot pajama shorts edged up my thighs as I did. Exhaustion prickled at the corners of my mind. I didn’t really seem to get much sleep. I still feel uncomfortably exhausted. But I suppose that should be expected. Lately these nights, I have gotten little sleep at all. In fact, lately I’ve been feeling…. strange.

Bad, almost.

“What am I thinking about?” I questioned myself with a frown. Just as sudden as the thought came, I pushed it away even quicker.

Like Mother used to say, if you think you’re feeling bad, you’ll feel bad.

I’m feeling bad. No, I feel grateful that tonight I managed to get more sleep the previous night. That’s a good thing. I need to be grateful. I can’t be so ungrateful. What am I thinking? I sound so selfish thinking silly things.

My eyes cut towards the clock again: 7:07.

School. I need to focus before I’m late.

Besides, I’ll be late to school at this rate.

Slightly sluggish, I pulled down my pink heart shorts and yawned again. I blinked a couple times, kicking off my blurry vision.

BRR! BRR!

A familiar buzz of my phone grabbed my attention.

BRR! BRR!

I walked over to my bed and picked up my phone seated at the edge of my bed. With the phone inches away from my face, I clicked it on; the bright light of the screen instantly lit up, making me squint at my beach waves background. There were 2 messages, both from only one recipient—-Megan.

A sour taste seared my drying tongue. A heavy weight rested on my chest, while rocks filled the pit of my stomach. I sucked in the air with a wavering breath. Over and over, I kept reading the text.

‘Don’t forget to bring the money.’

My fingers coiled into a balled fist, my lips trembling.

Money. She needs the 50 bucks. How could I almost forget? I need to bring her 50 bucks. Or less need, and more so I have to.

I darted over to my study desk in the opposite corner of my room. With hasty hands, I snatched up my piggy bank and shook it hard. But only pennies fell against the surface of the desk.

I gulped, my mouth as dry as a desert.

Money. Megan has to have the money. I can’t disappoint her. I can’t… but? I don’t have enough allowance. Father won’t give me any more extra money until next month. I can’t wait that long. But then again, I don’t want to make Megan unhappy. I promised her I would give her the money. I can’t break my promise.

Gradually I brought my hands to my lips to chew heavily on my nails.

I have to get 50 bucks. Maybe I should ask my Father for an early allowance. But will he get mad? He’s so stressed and busy with work. I can’t keep bothering him when he’s trying to support me.

My teeth sunk harder into my nails.

I need the 50 bucks for Megan though. If not at least 50, I need to give her something. I have to.

“Ah!” A sudden realization struck me like lighting.

I may not have 50 but I at least have a 20, don’t I?

My legs hurried over to my backpack. I ripped open zippers and dug into pouches until my fingers grazed a familiar crisp paper at the bottom of my backpack.

“Yes!” My smile jumped as I hopped upwards with a clean 20 dollars in my hand. “At least I found a 20!” I laughed a little as I delicately packed the 20 into the side pouch of my backpack.

I have at least something to give to Megan.

My smile grew as I walked back over to my phone and clicked it on.

“Now I should—oh no!” I yelped, my heart rate bounced as I caught notice of the time. “I’ve got to get a move on!”

My legs pumped as I ran out from my room making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Ouch!” My head went crashing headfirst into the bathroom door.

For a moment, I recoiled, stunned from the pulsating pain throbbing in my forehead.

“Ouch. It hurts.” I winced reaching to comfortingly grab my head.

Plop.

I glanced down at the floor.

Fear was first to stab me, but numbing shock soon followed to electrify me.

Blood. Crimson red blood stained the floor.

Plop.

Something viciously warm trickled from my forehead.

Plop.

My fingers reached towards the throbbing source of pain on my forehead. I could feel blood running down my forehead.

Was my forehead bleeding?

Or?

I swallowed again, fear burned into me.