what is this blood on my hands? it is a sharp contrast to the white walls that have served as my abode for as far back as i can remember. i wipe my hands on my already-darkened smock, dark with age, with time that has not treated it well at all. there is little to do in this place, but much time for thinking. it is nearly time for the meagre entertainment that serves as the only distraction from my own thoughts each otherwise long and tedious day.

i position myself upon my stool, excited with anticipation for the hideous event that has become my daily craving. i face the dark window, i can barely make out my own reflection, vaguely mirrored on the dark surface; my eyes bright with heightening excitement. i am practically twitching with glee, each sweaty hand subconsciously wringing the other. the wait is over: the window brightens before me, and soon i am looking in on a room very similar to my own.

there is a person in there, sitting upon a tattered bed. i cannot see his face, it is hidden in dark shadows. at first i hear nothing, then the trademark scream to begin the wonderful show emits his lips in a strangled, gurgling shriek that bombards my eardrums and courses like electricity down my spine. i break out into a cold sweat, a thin smile ravages my face in exultation. he lifts his head and looks straight at me. i cringe at what i see, as i do every day.

his face is red and swollen. long, dark gouges consume his face and neck, like crimson ravines, glistening and scabbed. he shrieks again, shaking his head miserably from side to side, as if his head were gripped by some taloned beast only he could see. then his hands are up: long thin, almost skeletal fingers with dark and cracked fingernails high upon his face. screaming again, in unison with my own excited chuckle, those fingers are tearing at his face:

relentlessly, skin peeling, scabs breaking, fresh blood rising to the surface in a crescendo of unspeakable agony and my own wicked pleasure and glee! as quickly as it started the window darkens and i am left trembling and panting before its opaque surface, which is now disclosing nothing but the memory of today's marvellous distraction. i retire to bed soon after, falling quickly into dark dreams with scarlet images.

i awake after some unknown amount of time. i rub my eyes wearily, the past event that so dominated my mind is now but a forgotten echo. what is this blood on my hands? i see the stool by the window and feel a tingle of excitement. i sit upon the stool and begin to wait, the anticipation already starting to build in the base of my spine.