November Rain

Surreptitious glances, uncomfortable mannerisms, suspicious sniggers inviting mutterings of discontent, the four people sitting opposite staring with curiosity and uncertainty, inquisitive eyes searching for answers, a playful smile lifting the corners of the teenagers mouth shamelessly informing him that his passion for cunnilingus hadn't gone unnoticed.

Then it registered. A hemorrhage of memory clearing the fog....The Tampon....Kath Evans must have started her period during their night of passion. It was always dark and in his haste to get away he never got the chance to look into a mirror. Just then something else crept into his thoughts. Christ....My face....If there's blood on my hands.....There has to be blood on....My face.

The weight of dread plunged like a brick into the pit of his stomach, a cold wave of fear sweeping over him, torturing his mind and clouding his vision, finding himself in that uncomfortable situation of not knowing where to look.

The reality, the embarrassment, the madness weaving its way inside his head, a body giving into submission, lowering his face in his hands, peeking through the narrow gaps between his fingers, gazing nervously into the nightmare, the older woman with a child shuffling uncomfortably on the seat, a worried and nervous expression on her face, turning the child's head, averting any contact with the scary man with the red face.

The sound of a bell and people lifting from seats signalled the bus was coming to a stop.

Impulse suddenly fed his panic, jumping to his feet and ignoring protocol, leaping from the moving vehicle, his footfalls splashing in pools of water on the pavement, his legs almost buckling beneath him, eventually coming to a halt, leaning forward with both hands and clutching his knees, his head hanging in humble despair, sucking in precious air, trying to calm his erratic breathing.

'Fucking rain... fucking public transport... fucking periods...how do women still live after bleeding every month without a blood transfusion,' he muttered to himself as he jogged along the footpath, the cold November rain thrashing with an unforgiving force against his back, quickening the pace in his step as he approached 'The Royal Belvedere Arms Hotel.'

The heavy door creaked on its rusty hinges, opening just enough to avoid the bell chimes hanging overhead. A deep intake of breath and a careful maneuver, squeezing his body through the narrow gap in the door, cursing under his breath and bending down on one knee, picking up a button that had sprung free from his jacket.

The entrance foyer was deserted but the smell of bacon and eggs and the humming of an electric floor sweeper informed him that the early morning staff weren't too far away. Walking on tip-toes and holding his blood stained hand across his face, cautiously scanning the room for Beverly Jackson, taking the stairs two at a time, his shoes thudding in rapid succession on the thin carpet, making sure he avoided the treads at the top of the stairs that always creaked, brushing quickly past one of the cleaning staff, avoiding any eye contact, her early morning greeting smothered under the bedroom door slamming in his wake.

He rushed to the hand basin and looked into the mirror. The face of a stranger stared back.

A crimson tide of menstrual blood coated his teeth and decorated his face like a circus clown, and waterfalls of red marks smeared his neck and shirt collar and his wrinkled mohair suit sagged from his body like a wet rag.

The reflection in the mirror threw him into a panic, splashing hot water on his face and inside his mouth, washing away all traces of dried blood from his hands and face, staring at the whirlpool of red water disappearing down the plughole, grabbing the scented soap and vigorously scrubbing his finger nails with a brush, easing slightly when he realised he was nearly taking the skin off his fingers, applying paste to the toothbrush, brushing the taste and the memories from his mouth.

He hung his wet suit on a coat hanger, grabbed a towel and headed for the shower.