There was blood on his hands. Seeping through his fingers.
It was his own blood.
The cause? Obviously the stab wound in his stomach. He should have just handed over his wallet. He would have, maybe, given time. Instead, the mugger got impatient. Now, he was going to be down his wallet and his life.
He was never going to see his friends again, although that wasn’t much of a loss. He would miss his job researching at the university more. Sometimes, though, that wasn’t worth it either.
He felt that he might not miss his life much. He would have liked it to be longer, but he couldn’t do anything about that now.
He collapsed onto the ground. It was wet. So much blood. It hurt so much. Now he was just going to die here, on the ground, in a pool of his own blood.
The puddle of blood stretched from his feet to his head. Wasn’t that too much blood?
That was his last thought.
When he woke up, he was surprised by many things.
First, that he woke up. He’d seen an awful lot of blood. It had been a pretty bad wound, too.
Second, where he woke up. This was not, as he had expected, a hospital room. It was instead a bedroom of some sort. There were no windows, so perhaps it was in a basement. The bed he was in was comfortable enough, but not a hospital bed. To his right was a bookcase full of books that appeared to be on the occult, from the titles.
He looked down at himself. He had bandages wrapped around his stomach, where he’d been stabbed. They were bloody. Not just a little bit, either. They were soaked with blood, and wet. The blankets on the bed were also soaked with blood. He leaned over to look at the floor. That hurt, actually, when he moved his stomach. He pulled his head back.
The floor was bloody too. It couldn’t have all been his, though. He knew that. After all, he likely had about 5 liters of blood. He’d seen at least that much on the ground… after he’d been stabbed. On the floor, there was even more. Well, he thought so anyway. He thought about spilling a big bottle of soda, and it seemed like this was more. He didn’t know exactly how much blood a human could lose and live, but more than half seemed unlikely.
So… Perhaps some blood had already been here. If so, that meant someone else had been bleeding in this bed. Then, the sheets hadn’t been changed, and he’d been placed here. So, the other person was either better… or dead. He thought probably dead. Then, he’d been brought here by someone. He could only assume it was someone crazy who liked to watch people bleed to death. He didn’t particularly want to die, or be around someone crazy, so he felt he should get out of this place.
However, it hurt too much to even sit up. He didn’t want to swing his legs off the bed, and fall onto the floor, face down in a pool of blood. So he lay back in the bed, propped up by pillows, and stared up at the ceiling. Somehow, he didn’t feel tired. Losing blood should make you tired, right? Well, it’s not like he’d never been seriously injured before, so maybe not. He looked at his bandages. The blood would have taken a long time to soak them so thoroughly. Yet, it still wasn’t dry. For some reason, he found himself unwinding the bandages. It hurt a little, and was quite stupid. He knew that, but he did it anyway. Maybe he just didn’t believe it was real. Or, maybe, the blood loss was clouding his judgement. Or, maybe, he was stupid. He secretly felt it was probably the last one.
Contrary to what he thought, based on the amount of blood, his wound had actually been stitched up. Not perfectly, since some blood still oozed out of the wound, but it was still stitched up. He thought it should have stopped bleeding by now, though. Maybe formed a scab. Well, medicine wasn’t his area of study, so maybe he just didn’t know as much as he thought about the subject.
He couldn’t get up without it hurting, and even if there was some serial killer who wanted to watch him bleed to death, he didn’t feel motivated to do anything about it. He didn’t want to die, but remembering bleeding in the alleyway, he didn’t particularly not want to die either. So, he chose the least painful path, lying still on the bed. Eventually, he fell asleep.