The message on the mirror

I screamed in terror at the sight to which I awoke. I was stripped down to underwear, with my arms, legs and core all covered in small but painful cuts that made moving agony. The bed upon which I laid was soaked in my blood, so much so that I was surprised to even be alive.

My head was also in pain, and my dizziness upon waking told me I most likely had a concussion.

In my frenzied state, I leapt out of bed, some of the cuts still leaking with blood, and ran across the hall to the shower.

The hot water heater was painful on the cuts covering my body, but that mattered little. I had to clean myself of the blood all over me.

By the time I was finished in the shower, I could more clearly see the damage done to my body. While many of the cuts were surface level, a few on my arms were much deeper, so much so that I had no doubt they’d leave horrible visible scars. I became come conscious of my light headedness too, which I guessed was more from blood loss than concussion.

Stepping out of the shower, I finally saw just what Rachel used all of that blood for. Over the bathroom mirror, in a smear of crimson, was an unmistakable message:

“Give me back what's mine”