Blood

The bathtub was overflowing and I realized that I didn’t have any towels. I didn’t have anything. I couldn’t move. Not even my toes could muster a wiggle. My head was itchy behind my ear, and I could do nothing. Water fell in a thin line over the smooth porcelain and I stood helpless as it pooled on the floor. It splashed onto my shoes and dampened the bottoms of my pant legs. All I could do was stand still. My feet were locked in position. I knew what I needed to do. If only I could take a step forward and turn the handle.

I looked down again, and the water had been replaced by the kind of blood that is dark and coagulated. Like it had spent a bit of time in the air before pouring over the edge of my tub. It splashed all over my legs as it bounced off the tiny squares of tile. I felt a rumble. In an instant I was sinking into the disintegrating floor. My body was covered in bloody water and tiny pieces of grout. My clothing was soaked and plastered to my skin. The rough edges of the floor gouged me as I went down. Some of the blood became my own.

The last thing I saw, as I was nose level with the ruined floor, was the cat. She stood in the hall and gave me a knowing look as she pawed the carpet. As we made eye contact, we acquired some sort of telepathic connection. I was aware that she knew I was always headed for Hell. The contact held for a second, until all light was gone and everything became pain. That is when I woke up to the temple pounding nausea of another hangover. My mouth was dry, but my clothes were dry too.