Who Left These Bloody Footprints?

The night was cold, like any other late-summer night in Michigan. I ended it just like previous nights, as I had developed a routine. Every night, I would drink tea and read in bed until my tea was finished. Then, I would lay down and allow myself to be taken away. Throughout the night, I tossed and turned, unable to find a good position to sleep in. I awakened a few times in between those turns and could feel something wasn't right. My foot confirmed that feeling as it tingled most throughout my slumber, feeling as if a million little critters swarmed the bones of my right foot.

I would unconsciously wiggle my foot around in my sleep, thinking that it was just asleep. When I finally awaken with the sun, the feeling had not gone away.

I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I stepped in some water. Not only am I not fully stepping down on my right foot because pain shoots it's way up my leg if I do, but also because now my foot is uncomfortable wet. At this point, I am using one leg to walk and the heel of my other foot for balance. The kitchen's path to the bathroom is carpet, so I decided to switch to my toes' tips going into the bathroom. Somehow, I managed to get into the shower without realizing a trail of bloody footprints trailing from the door to the shower.

While rinsing off, I still felt my foot tingling most unusually. I looked down at it and saw nothing noteworthy. I swung open the curtains and almost slipped in the shower, attempting to create a bigger and bloodier mess to clean up. The footprints scared me because they weren't there before and because it was blood! You don't go through everyday life and see blood if you're like me. At the time, I was unemployed and lounging around the house. Even if I wasn't, I'm no doctor or paramedic. Immediately, I grab a towel and step out of the shower. After a while, the only logical explanation was that they were my own footprints, but I didn't know how they could be. The spooky part about this story wasn't the random bloody footprints; it was the fact that I didn't how when or how I managed to cut my foot. I finally sit down to examine both feel's bottoms, only to find a slit on my right foot. Thankfully, it wasn't deep, or I would have passed out. It wasn't bloody or even bleeding by the time I found it. It seemed a bit deeper than a papercut and ran from one end of my foot to the other. I laughed and immediately took a photo because I am peculiar like that. Again, it wasn't every day I saw a display this dramatic... I wanted to remember the moment.

For the remainder of the day, I racked my brain, thinking of different ways to cut my foot and where I could have been. The rest of my house had no trace of blood, so it had to happen right before I went to bed or while I was in bed. Strangely enough, the tingling didn't go away, and it didn't feel like it came from that cut. I still have no idea of the actual events that lead to this crime scene in my bathroom. Logically, I can't even tell the story or call upon that memory to accurately picture the confusion of that day for me. But it does make for an excellent story to tell!