Magic Stains

Nothing was supposed to have happened.

His hands touch at the rug, its fraying pattern. His mind touches the words. Matra. Proverb.

Nothing was supposed to have happened.

One. A party. the smell of frosting on hands, the rims of cups. The hidden magic, a drugged brownie drizzled in tinfoil chocolate lies. A cup of water weighed down in red plastic and smiles, invisible illusions blooming. One drop- a single bite-

The spiraling magician would wave his wand.

Nothing was supposed to have happened.

There was the party, there was the girl. The way she stumbled onto the stage, all loosened eyes and blurring curls. Clutching a microphone and giving crowds incoherent giggles instead of the lyrics splayed behind her.

Nothing was supposed to have happened.

Him. There. In the crowd. Him, watching the girl. Him seeing- his house, his living room couch used as her platform, his money spent on cups and magic, his hands typing the invitations, His eyes, watching as she fell-

Hit the ground.

The stain of red is a bit like magic, inviting in its own special way. another magic trick. Another white rabbit and shrinking cookie and buzzing wonderland.

The stain of red in the fraying pattern of the rug.

"You didn't have to invite me."

A memory. An afterthought. The boy is on the ground even as his mind stays on the then. The walking bodies and then the running bodies as the party drew its line of blood and the girl was left on the other end. No more loosened eyes, dirty curls focused and lifeless.

"You didn't have to invite me"

Her voice is sharp. A blade cutting through the air. He takes a breath, a wonderous thing, truly,

How can something made of magic turn into a blade?

The raw of his words,

"I didn't have to invite you"

She laughs and he wants to take the sound, take it from her transparent skin and place it back into those eyes. The ones connected to the microphone. The ones open, alive, so so alive. Announcing her name and then the song she would never sing,

the way she fell...

"I didn't have to invite you."

His fingers touch the carpet. pattern. stain. there's no one here, he knows this, not the dead girl on the ground, not the red sneakers abandoned by the fireplace, he hears those who have abandoned him, he hears those who never will.

He hears her.

"You didn't think, did you?" she shifts on the couch, hand fingering an abandoned napkin, a crumbling cookie. It smells too sweet for this room, he thinks, the copper outweighs it.

"I didn't think"

"They never think, not when they start to bring out the magic tricks. not when they peel open your lips and stuff your throat and let you lose your mind," she laughs, a sound made of blown balloons and children's birthdays, "You're losing your mind when you take it. You lose your life as you try and clean it up."

.....Nothing was supposed to have happened.

She shakes her head, skin fading, "But something did happen"

Ignoring. His eyes turning from her silhouette. One hand on the body on the floor. One hand now scrubbing, scrubbing with every piece of magic left in him. Scrubbing the carpet until the pattern disappears, the blood disappears.

"I didn't have to invite you" His words are scrubbed raw, "I didn't have to invite you."

I didn't have to invite you.

I didn't have to invite you.

Nothing was supposed to happen.

"Something happened" the girl's voice fades, watching him, watching her body on the ground. New form leaning against the couch. The couch she fell from. The sound of sirens coming through the open door, open window, the one life home.

"I can't get it out"

Please.

Please, he begs.

"I can't get it out I can't get it out I can't-"

"It's not coming out" Her laugh is gone, her eyes gone pale. Skin molding to the bone, hollowing cheeks. Black rimmed eyes deeper and deeper. Every drop of magic and its bled into her brain. Every drop of magic as its bleached the color from her hair. Dug into cells and nerve collapsing, collapsing, a medicine you can't clean up, a hangover you can't get rid of, even when the parties over....

"I lost everything to it"

Her words are whistful, he scrubs harder, he scrubs even as the sirens come to close, he scrubs even as the voices outside knocks against his door, he scrubs with closed eyes and regret. You took a pill, you took a drink, it contained magic but not the fun bounce house and top hats kind. Not the sparkles and music. This is the kind of magic that lets you realize how truly far Alice had to fall down the rabbit hole...

"I lost my mind"

She's lost her mind.

"I just wanted to have fun"

She just wanted to have fun.

The boy stops his mumblings. He stops his scrubbing if only for a moment. If only for the length of a pill as it dissolves into a system.

It's not fair, what we're doing to ourselves. It's not fair the people we've lost to it. The innocent souls and beautiful students who never were able to bloom for all the pesticides they carpeted against their bones. It's not fair, the image. The thinking of- it's only one bite. It's only one drop, sip, one party. One. One. One can end your forever, one can lead you to this world. Knees and carpet and ghosts speaking to you in her own sermon. You wish you had gone to church, not this party. studied for the test instead of cleaning the red.

He frowns, it's too small a gesture,

"Nothing was supposed to happen"

Her smile holds no magic, no life,

"that's the funny thing.... nothing Is ever supposed to happen"

The door opens. The grieving families will soon come.

Nothing was supposed to happen.

Something happened.

Now,

Her ghost watches him scrub the carpet.

Nothing was

supposed to

happen.

He'll never scrub out the magic stain of blood.