Green Desert - Chapter 2.1.6 - Fírí

“Don’t worry. I was just leaving.” I spun on my bare heel and walked out of the room.

Behind me, the old woman feebly said, “But dear. . .”

She hadn’t even asked if I was vegetarian. She just expected me to eat meat. Welcome to Hicksville, population clueless and backwards. What did I expect? You ain’t in Narakamíníkı anymore, baby.

I threw open the bedroom door. I’d left it open. On the newly-made bed sat my jeans, sweatshirt, socks, panties––folded and stacked. I picked them up. Clean. I flipped open my suitcase and tossed the clothes inside, but stopped before shutting it. The burgundy sweatshirt had a dark patch––a stain. I unfurled the shirt and held it out with both hands. Several dark blobs in a tie-dye sort of pattern. Blood? My forehead, my elbows––not even a scratch. But the stain was reddish. I held it up to the light and to my eye, scratched it with a chipped-paint nail. But that did nothing.

“I’m terribly sorry.” I turned my head. Vata stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of her red skirt. “I was unable to remove the stain. Blood sets very fast, you know.”

I glanced at the sweatshirt. “But where’d the blood come from?”

The gray-haired woman smiled, accentuating her wrinkles. “We will not turn you in to the police. Please do not leave so quickly. You had a traumatic experience. You need to rest and recuperate. We only want to help you however possible.”