J.C.

Part One

The tiles of the bathroom floor were cool to the touch of my cheek, and minty-green in color. I assumed they were the original tiles, from when the house was built. They looked very 1950s. I’d always liked that look, kinda kitsch. A simpler time, maybe. It hurt too much to move my head or my eyeballs, or even to close my eyes, so they stayed frozen on the corner where the ceiling met the wall and the mirror.  The light outside the window was fading, into darkness. I was already completely encompassed by the darkness, it’s where I lived. I wondered if I would die. I couldn’t really see the point of being alive anymore.  How I got here this time was irrelevant, seeing as no matter what I did, I always ended up back here, on the bathroom floor, living out the purgatory that my catholic-school religion teacher had promised would be my fate. My body rotted from the inside out. That sweet, apple-y smell, like cut flowers in a vase, way past their due, hung around me, aura-like.  If you’ve e…