Drabble no 7

Blood has such a distinctive scent. Its hard to describe being somewhere between burnt metallic scent and death. You barely detect it at first but soon it overwhelms your senses, you wish you could pluck it from your memory. Now the sheets are bathed in blood, the screaming reaches a fever pitch. Oh the blood.
You’ve never seen so much of it. Never smelled something so horrid.
Dread creeps up slowly, you inhale sharply. You go through the motions. You reassure the injured person and 400 random people who have shown up to panic or watch.
You reassure them. Its okay, you say, its not that much blood. You swallow back vomit, you send them to the ER. Just a precaution, you warn. Nothing serious.
You blink back the tears as the manager lowers the flagpole at noon.
You’re a liar. And a saint.


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