I remember the way my eyes stung as soon as I opened them, as if they couldn’t bare to rest after what has been seen. They were bloodshot, almost like the man I found laying on the floor that Summer night two years back.
Two years back… And my eyes are still bloodshot. I can recall the thickness of his blood, there was so much of it that it started to look like a black pool, maybe his soul was filled inside.
Not knowing who or what had caused this, my curiosity drove me closer to the lingering cold dense energy that surrounded his body.
I didn’t know his name, but I touched his arm. I remember being fond of how stiff his body was.
For some reason, I stayed. Maybe he needed company, maybe it was I who needed company.
My eyes are still bloodshot and I can feel my soul in his black blooded pool. Being in cell #8165 is warmer than that memory.
Charged with the murder of Harrie Buldow. Just for having a lingering curiosity of a strangers rotting corpse and black blood I found two Summers ago.