Chapter Text
Donald stared down at his wet, bloodied shirt, now causing a mess on the floor and the chair he hung it up to dry on. Kingsley was saying something but he couldn’t really hear, he was too lost; something about the sad, dirty shirt had awakened his sad, dirty memories and now he was trying to recount all the bloodstains he had ever seen. A sight that he hated being familiar with, as bloodstains haunted him in all stages of his life. He wondered if it was the one constant in his life. He wondered if he’d die seeing bloodstains.