Blood Ink

Flamenco

Eyes followed Martina as she walked the hallways. Whispered conversations surrounded her and followed in her wake. In class, people would turn and stare at her openly. But no one said anything to her; when she asked them questions, they wouldn't answer. 

Martina's lunch was always the same: a chocolate energy bar and an orange soda. She always ate it in the same place: a stall in the second floor bathroom, the one that was farthest from the cafeteria. It was clean-ish; more importantly, it was private. Once in a while, people came in there to get high or to fuck, but they never bothered her. She would eat with her backpack on her lap and her feet propped up against the door, to prevent anyone from barging in. She was eating there, on her third day back, when the conversation happened.

"You're kidding," one girl was saying as a group came into the bathroom. Their high heels  clicked against the tile; with the big cubic echoes off the bathroom tiles, it sounded like a stampede.

"I'm not," another voice said. "Scout's honor."

"She was really drinking blood?" the first girl said, and laughed a scandalized laugh.

"Wait," a third voice said. "Who are we talking about here?"

"Martina," said the second voice, the one who had said "Scout's honor." "You know, that girl who had a breakdown last week. Mark Geoffrey had a class with her, and he said she was, like, ripping at a scab with her teeth––"

" – Ewww!"

Martina tried to place their voices, but none of them sounded familiar. She couldn't see them through either slat in the bathroom stall; they were probably at the mirror, checking their makeup.

"And when it started bleeding? She starts drinking from it! Like a cat, you know, lapping – thpp thpp thpp thpp thpp." 

Horrified laughter rang out and echoed through the room.

Blood rushed to Martina's cheeks. I never did that, she thought. That sounds like something Connor Jensen would do, not me. Who do they think I am?

"Did any of you guys see her big freakout last week?" one of the girls said.

"Nuh uh. But Ryan Aronson saw some of it, sort of towards the end?"

"What was she doing?"

"Ugh. She had blood all over her face, and was just screaming her head off. I could hear it down the hall."

"How do you get blood all over your face?"

"Maybe she went off with her girlfriend, got a little carried away."

They all started laughing again. Martina closed her eyes; she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. The tattoo was lazily spinning on her right shoulder in a spiral pattern. This horrible moment would pass; she wanted it to pass sooner.

"I can't believe they let her back into the school," one girl said. "After that freakout? What if she kills someone next time?"

Open the door, the tattoo commanded. I want to talk to them.

Martina was so startled by this command – the tattoo hadn't spoken since that incident in the closet – that she dropped her feet to the floor. Her backpack banged against the metal dispenser, sending a huge clang through the room.

"Is somebody in here?" one of the girls yelled, after the clang subsided. Martina didn't dare speak.

"She can hear us," Scout's Honor said in a mock-spooky voice, and started laughing.