Start of a story

Darkness fell away as bright florescent lights beamed into existence, exposing a dingy motel room to Jason Marsh. Dust kicked up as he moved to the bathroom, setting the idea firm in his mind that this room hadn’t been rented out in years. He almost wished he had checked this room out earlier when he paid for it, before going to the meeting. His only worry right now though was making sure the pipes still worked and that the water was wet.

“Luck at last” whispered Jason as he watched cold clean water fill up the sink.

“No soap” he mumbled, dipping his hands into the small clear pool.

You don’t need soap to clean blood off ones hands of course, but on occasion it does help with the stains. Glancing around for a towel, he resigned to using the front of his jeans after finding none.

“Pull yourself together Jason, think…” he said to himself in the mirror.

“How could they have known? Someone must have squealed!” he thought, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Dam it! Don’t look at me like that!” he shouted.

Glass shattered as Jason put his fist though the mirror, fresh blood trickling down the wall into the sink. Tearing a piece of cloth from his sleeve, he wrapped his knuckles to stem the bleeding.