Primitive

Nightmares?

I stood before a large wooden house. The paint was peeling and termites had probably started on the floorboards. It was large and old. I didnt like coming back here, but this was home to me. I didnt have anywhere else. I walked up to the door and unlocked it. The door creaked shrilly. 'God damn it! The bloody door needs oil again.'

I closed the door and ran up to the bathroom, dumping my bag on the top of the stairs. I took the plastic bag with me and rinsed it along with the scarf. Dark red blood mixed with the translucent water. I hung my scarf on the railing in the bathroom away and splashed water on my face. I wiped the water off with a towel and looked in the mirror. 

'What the hell is wrong with you?' I felt like vomiting. It occurred to me to go see a doctor but then i remembered that if I told a doctor what happened it would spread like wildfire and somehow reach school. 'No, you just can't. You'll be fine, you probably just imagined it all. Maybe this is all a dream and you'll wake up and everything will be "normal" like it was before!' 

I tried to convince myself this wasn't real, it was just a bad dream, maybe even a bit of a nightmare. I guess it sort of worked because I was able to move myself away from the mirror and into my room. It wasn't any better there. It was basically empty apart from a dresser, a bed and a few clothes and books strewn here and there.

I closed the wooden door and sat down, my back leaning on it. I put my head in my hands and drew my knees towards my body. 'Please let this be a dream, please let it all go away.' I started to rock back and forward gently. 'Maybe this is what a cannibal feels like while they are still sane. Or maybe when they realise something is wrong with them.' I could still feel the metallic and supposedly disgusting yet satisfying taste of my own blood.