The garbage smelled like rotting flesh. Mostly, because underneath the tissues, the cotton swabs, the empty bottle of toothpaste, the tampon wrappers and depositories there was a heap of flesh that happened to be rotting.
It had gotten there accidentally, well it was intentionally thrown in the bin, but unintentionally ripped off. Then again it wasn’t really ripped off it was dug out, shredded, and removed. She hadn’t really been paying attention, she had been upset and focusing on everything else other than what she was actually doing.
It had been a long day. Madeline couldn’t focus her mind, her projects were getting done but she lacked the ability to be confident in them, or recall which she had done and which needed work. She hadn’t fought with anyone in particular. She just wasn’t feeling quite right. She was distracted and found that raking her nails across her skin, especially those parts where it was tightest across her bones, was rhythmic. It was repetitive and somewhat soothing.
Her skin had gone numb long ago. Her fingers had felt slick. It could have been from crying or maybe she was sweating. She was piled under blankets and pillows. She knew that she couldn’t stop, her only calm coming from her fingers running across the same groves . She had become a record, skipping in place.
It was never established how long she had been there, just clawing at herself. At least she hadn’t been able to figure it out, and since she hadn’t told anyone else, there was no one else working on the puzzle. She knew everything that had been happening before, had stopped when her boyfriend called her around 9:30 PM. The last time they had spoken was 6:00 PM. At least according to him, confirmed by her call log.
The blankets were splotched with red. She noticed as she pulled them off in an attempt to get up and walk about while she was on the phone. She had seen red splotchy and bright on her arm. It hadn't registered when she had picked up her phone. Now it was pressed against her head, her grip tight on the device as she chunks fell to the ground.
Madeline paced, doign her best to listen to what her boyfriend was saying. To stay in the moment, aware. Once they ended their call, had it only been five minutes?, she walked back over to the couch. The chunks were there, pink and hairy, like deformed catapillers who never made it from the caccoon. Scooping up the bits from her floor, she put them in a paper towel. Adding to it the scraps from the blankets and debris on the couch. Then Madeline threw them all out in the bin in the bathroom.
Now, the garbage and the bathroom smelled like rotting flesh. Madeline wasn’t sure how long it took flesh to rot. She also wasn’t sure how long ago she disposed of her skin. She knew that this wasn’t the first time she had done this, she figured it wouldn’t be the last.
It was a puzzle she couldn't solve. It wasn't the only one, the only thought left unfinished in her brain. If she could relax maybe she could solve it, that damned nagging itch. How many shreds of flesh had she deposited to her garbage? How many had she put in there since she had last taken out the trash? She thought and she thought, as her hands silently scratched her scalp.
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