I am Dante Antonio Valentino. As soon as I was hired I had made my way to this lodge as the emails described. Though the one detail the inscriptions seemed to overlook was the bits of glitter that infused themselves into every fiber of the couch. At this rate I was better off picking them out one by one with a pair of tweezers. Every brush and attempt to remove them made the morning coffee more luring. Though only ever having it after I was finished cleaning up the lodge was a mistake in my schedule on my half. At least now I seem to be earning the fortune that I'm being paid.
It was after Michael and Rosey had left for a halloween themed nail salon in town that I started cleaning. I was trying to figure out what to do about the couch when Wendell walked back into the lodge and immediately looked me in the eye, “Hey baldy, ” He waved to me for me to follow him as he passed by me and headed towards his own bedroom, “Got a more important job for you. Take the cart with you.”
I sighed while dropping the bush I was trying back into the cleaning cart. After dragging the cart behind me, I left it just outside the door.
I should have picked up on the smell sooner. Walking into Wendell’s room filled my nose with a coppery flavor.
Wendell closed the door behind me and stayed between me and the exit. His voice grumbled under his breath, “You wouldn’t happen to know about this would you?”
I looked ahead. Wendell’s room was nearly empty. Not even a picture was hung up for decor. Only the bed sat centered on one wall.
Though a gleam of light caught my eye. It was the shine of a large kitchen knife blade wedged between the wooden floorboards. The sharp end was pointing straight up and drenched in a thin layer of blood. The blood pooled around it and seeped into every crack below. The width of the blood reaching a bloodstained end of a blanket partly thrown off the bed. My eyes stayed locked onto the sight in surprise. My mouth hung slightly open at it.
Wendell snapped much louder, “ANSWER ME. Did you do this?”
The same words struck me with adrenaline. Filling with fear as I stuttered out, “N-no. I assure you I did not. Only a fool would threaten a generous source of income like this.”
Wendell glared down at me as I looked back. Seeming content with the look of terror in my eyes, he huffed and opened the door, “Just clean it. Don’t let anyone see it. ANYONE.”
He turned and left, leaving the door open as he walked to the living room out of sight.
I quickly went to work and dragged the cleaning cart in the room. I’m usually more professional with my jobs but this time I was scrambling to grab supplies off the cart. I didn’t even use a steam mop. Any elegance or grace in my work was immediately tarnished as I dropped to my hands and knees to desperately scrub out the red stains from the wood grain.
Tears ran down my nose and dropped onto the floor. I gritted my teeth trying not to think much about it. Just get the job done. Just like the job description. Don’t ask, just clean. But I’ve never had to clean blood like this.
I didn't stop to wipe my face clear of the tears. I was so used to them now, I just put up with it instead of wasting energy but more importantly, time. While scratching out any speck I could find, my thoughts ran, having nothing else to work on.
Swapping to a better suited scrub for the grooves, I worried what would happen to me if anyone saw this mess. If I missed one spot I could be scrapped away just as meticulously. I knew better than to take my time, his threats were and are real. Just look at me.
The thoughts swirled into a blurred mess of fears and panic until it was done. The bed was made and its blankets as fresh as when they were bought. The cleaning supplies were put away and the only trace of any of it happening was left in my hands. A spotless kitchen blade. It was so clean that I saw my reflection in it. A snake. My sharp hairless features along with a slit lip. Typically what looked back at me was defiant, and proud of the authenticity and detail of my work. But this time all I saw was a simple coward.
I took a deep breath, straightening my clothes and putting back on the attitude of someone I would want to be, someone I now am. Elegant half open eyes gleam down at the knife with my chin up and a soft smug smile. I can do my job, no matter what I am.
Walking back towards the living room I found Wendell sitting on the edge of the couch, putting away a red tinted sewing needle and thread into a small sewing kit. I held out the clean knife in his view. My tone mirroring my now relaxed approach, “And what should be done with this?”
Wendell’s eyes glare back in anger at first as it was his default. It turned into more annoyance, “Just… I don’t know just bury it, hide it, eat it for all I care.”
I gave a slight bow, “Very well. Though I do have a question.”
This statement seemed to have sparked something in him. His eyebrows arch in anger. A rage boiling inside of him spilling out in a roaring shout, “I thought I said to not ask questions. WHY DOES NO ONE EVER LISTEN TO THAT PART?!” The outburst was enough to leave him breathing heavier at the end of it as his hand gently rests on the side of his ribs.
Unlike him, I maintained my composure, “I was going to ask you how much sugar you prefer in your tea. It is a spiced chai.”
His heavy breathing calms down as he inspects me for a moment. I’ve had my fair share of grouchy rich landlords yelling at tenants as I washed their windows. This, however, was the first time I have been hired by such a short fuse. He flipped his lid before I even could ask anything.
He shakes his head and swats his hand dismissively, “No sugar. Add uhm… add an orange… maybe two of them. Pealed.”
I gave another polite bow, “Very well.”
After moving to the kitchen I began boiling water for the tea. I left the blade resting on the counter beside me. Though I found my eyes still glancing over to it. Come to think of it, it was my first time cleaning up blood. At least like this. The closest I’ve gotten was cleaning up blood from a pet feral cat that had dragged in a mouse. But that was merely specks. This was enough to seriously injure someone.
I looked up at Wendell in the living room. He was getting up to put away the sewing kit. He had his usual subtle limp to keep some weight off of one of his feet but now he also leaned ever so slightly to one side. There was no doubt he was avoiding irritating a wound.
But as I heard a knocking on the door, I quickly slipped the knife into a cabinet.