The blood wouldn’t come off.

The borrowed blood from his broken face that had run through her fingers as she punched. Her hands were no longer red, but it didn’t matter because she knew the stain was still there.

It didn’t matter how hard she scrubbed, didn’t matter how much soap she used or how long she soaked them for, she knew the stain was still there.

Alcohol

Milk

Bleach

Vinegar

Turpentine

Lemon juice and salt

Nothing worked. She knew the stain was still there.

She hopes she’ll never she him again, because she’ll know the stain was still there.