Blood: a monologue

A woman steps onto the tube in a huff, plonks herself down on a spare seat and puts her big fuck-off bag on the seat next to her. An old lady hobbles on and the woman sees her. She realises that there are no seats left so takes her fuck-off bag off of the seat next to her and plants it on her lap. It is only the woman that speaks throughout this passage.

Oh I’m so sorry, my love! Please.

The woman beckons to the the older lady who then sits in the now vacant seat.

I’m sorry about my fuck-off bag, it’s too humungous for its own good… I’m always carrying around too much shit with me that’s why; honestly don’t think I’ve ever sorted through what’s in here, not since I first got it. It was actually a gift from my godmother for like my sixteenth, I think. Yeah that’s right, ’cause she also put in the front pocket a load of tampons to kinda prompt my subconscious into kicking my vagina into its first period. Which actually worked, I got my period the week after. I know! Sixteen and not yet had a period. I’ve had really bad iron deficiency for most of my life so when I did eventually get it, my periods have not behaved in a civilised manner at all: they just like come and go as they please, with no warning, like a perpetually hungry cocker-spaniel, just jumping up randomly and in the most like inconvenient times and like gnawing away at my tummy and my spots and my self-esteem!…


I’ll tell you what else fucks up my self-esteem: guys who chuck you out when you get your period during sex. That’s when you realise your screwing an arsehole. One who you don’t know is an arsehole yet, like a soft-boy or wotnot; they can really screw over your self-esteem, like so much worse than the regular arseholes. I wish to god my daughter never has to find that out. I hate to warn her about the shittyness of some people but I, and like so many others I know, have had to find out this crap the hard way, the painful way. I don’t want her to go through that.  But I also don’t want her to like go through life smothered in bubble wrap, ya know. If she does, I’m completely aware that it’ll be my fault entirely, but still.


I do sometimes wonder what she’d be like if she had a dad to look over her, to provide some of the metaphorical bubble wrap, ya know. A nice, protecting one; not like her father, fuck no. Although if my dad was anything to go by, her bloody period would scare him more than any like potential thugs she ever dates. She just started her first by the way, her first period. My baby girl all grown up! Not ALL grown up, but ya know what I mean; it’s still scary to think about it. She already looks more like a woman than I did even at like 18, it’s ridiculous! And acts like it too; she’s always got a train of boys hanging off of her, their jaws like scraping along the floor! She’s got my sister’s looks I’ll give her that, but she’s also got my spirit; and those combined can be lethal. Will be lethal. Is lethal.


She’s just my baby girl. Although she’s not my baby girl anymore is she. Fuck I feel so old.


I just… – I just don’t want to let anything bad happen to her. Wouldn’t you?


Oh fuck that was my stop.

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