Literature
Visceral
She sat on the toilet, looking at the blood soaked pad between her knees. It was heavier this time around, and brighter. It was almost fluorescent under the bathroom light, nearly pink in its brightness.
It was day 4 and not starting to slow down, the smell of rotting blood and viscera contained in old pads were starting to come from the bathroom bin, it would need to be emptied soon.
She felt a clot fall from her and into the toilet, grimacing at the sensation she finished peeing and folded sheets of toilet paper to wipe.
She huffed quietly at the blood coating her hand and wrist, grabbed more paper and cleaned it off. Throwing the stained