Blood Stains Don’t Wash Off

Lifting, covering and carrying an adult male body was a tiresome ordeal. And a very messy one too. It took all of Naleen’s and Ayla’s courage to get the job done. They left the body lying on the concrete floor in the blackness of the basement and closed the door. A continuous mantra of stay calm, stay calm, stay calm played in Naleen’s head, and Ayla’s seemed to be doing much the same. She excused herself to her room. Said she wanted to change her clothes because they made her queasy. Of course, she understood, she herself hurried to the bathroom to wash off her hands. Some blood had made its way onto her own clothes, and it was a ghastly reminder of what still needed to be cleaned up in the living room. Or the dying room. Or the murder room. 

No, Naleen knew in her heart that Ayla had a very good reason for it. She had yet to tell her what the hell happened, but with how shaken up she looked it was no wonder she would need some time. She would respect it. 

It wasn’t much, but she took the towel off the hanger and returned to the crime scene. The blood had started seeping into the furniture, there was no way it would ever be clean again. Still, she got on her knees and began patting down the rug. The whole situation was bizarre. And somehow she managed to keep her cool in front of Ayla. She had to be strong, and she had to find a solution to this – quick. Who was that man anyway? What was he doing in her friend’s home and, now that he was gone, would people start looking for him? A shiver ran up her spine as she imagined the police knocking on the door at any second. Her blonde hair surrounded her vision as she stared at the once-blue-now-turned-brown towel beneath her. Again her hands were red, and again her heart sped up. She looked positively incriminating at that moment.

She didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her until a warm pressure pushed against her back and she screamed. She fell to her side as she twisted her body to look at – Ayla. Dressed in freshly washed clothes paired with neatly tied-up hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”. She offered a sad smile. “What are you doing?” she asked as her gaze landed on the towel. The answer to that seemed pretty damn obvious; maybe the small talk was an effort to make Naleen feel better. But she couldn’t answer. Instead, she asked incredulously “Ayla, why didn’t you throw on something dirty? We have to clean this”. And, shouldn’t she completely discard her bloody clothes? 

“That’s okay, I’ll go pick up some cleaning supplies from my father. I’m more worried about… Y’know”. The fear that was so clear on her face before had returned. Right. Her father would have everything they’d need to clean this mess. It’s what he did for a living anyway. And maybe she shouldn’t be getting more items bloody. Ayla was right, she lived alone and no one would see this. But the body… “Are you going to tell me what happened? Who is that guy”? She leaned against the armrest of the couch that was thankfully unstained, and looked expectantly up at Ayla. “He – he broke in. And when he saw me. He came straight at me”.