Mad. (pt 4)
The policeman stood up, “Is everything okay?”
“No! No, the fuckin’ stain is moving. Look at it. Look at it! It’s getting.. it’s getting bigger. Oh Jesus. Oh Christ. Oh God,” he was backing away, pointing his left index at the stain on the wall, now at least thrice it’s original size, “God. Oh God, Oh God. Please, Please (nametag) Charles. Please, get me out of this room, I’ll confess. I did it. I’m sorry.”
The policeman, who had for reasons beyond him taken on the name Charles looked at where Ray was pointing.
The white wall. Not a mark.
“Ray. What stain?”