FictionPress.com - let the words flow| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
'With the stakes so high'
This is something that I wrote after a really weird night a couple of weeks ago. I've been sitting on the plot line for a while, but I wanted some feedback before I went and typed it all out. So, tell me wat you guys think, huh?
"It’s too late to apologize…" I was singing that, I can remember that. It was foggy as well. A thick blanket of misty fog had settled over the entire town, forcing me to drive slowly and carefully as I approached my house. Well, my townhouse that is. I rented it. My next door neighbors were newlyweds, who were always doing some sort of public display of affection. It was sickening, really—especially for a single girl like me. I pulled up into the driveway quietly, and silently made my way to my empty house. Well, empty except for Gary, my fish. I don’t consider Gary very good company, even though I feel his eyes on me when I eat cookies at three in the morning….
"Home sweet home…" I whispered to the empty house. My home was simple, mostly due to my lack of funds. The living room was the first thing that was seen when you walked into my home, and minimalism was my way. The living room only contained my television, a bookcase, and a couch. To the left was my kitchen, the most expensive part of the entire house. I had spent most of my money on dishes, pots, and pans; all of the dishes were colorful—rainbows actually—while the pots and pans were stainless steel. I loved it. I pulled out one of my purple glasses, pouring a glass of milk and pulling out my pack of pocky. A friend of mine had introduced it to me back in high school, and I’d been hooked ever since. Leaning back against my counter, I began to munch on my snack, and was planning on downing the entire box, when a knock on the door startled me.
It was more of a banging than a knock, and I silently moved from the counter, setting down my snack and moved to the door, peering out the peephole. My eyes widened at the sight before my door.
One hand supported him, while the other grabbed at his torso in the international sign for injured. Grey eyes searched the peephole desperately for a sign of life, and brown hair fell into his face, wet from either the fog, or sweat. I couldn’t tell, but he looked desperate. I could see the blood on his hands. My face turned paled instantly; I couldn’t stand the sight (or smell) of blood.
"Is anyone home? Please?" the boy pleaded, and my heart broke. He was in pain, the strain in his voice was clear. I couldn’t leave him out there to die, but there was always the possibility that he was just a great actor, and could actually be a crazy psycho killer. My mind wandered, but I would rather die a helpful martyr than a heartless bitch. I pulled open the door, and the boy, who now looked to be around my age, let out a ragged, yet relieved sigh.
"What happened?" I asked, reaching out a hand to steady him, and his eyes snapped to mine, their gray color hazy. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead gasped and cringed before pitching forward and falling right into my arms. Unfortunately, due to his weight, I crashed to the ground as well, managing not to knock myself out on my hardwood floors in the process. With a grunt I managed to push him off of me, and roll him onto his back in the center of my living room. I moved to the door, peering outside into the foggy darkness. I shivered hard suddenly, and before any creatures from that ominous abyss could jump out at me, I slammed the door, locking it and turning the deadbolt.
“What did I get myself into this time," I breathed, leaning back against the door. I took another look over at him. I could tell he was still in an incredible amount of pain, even in sleep, because his face contorted into a pained grimace as he slept. I shivered again, and went in search of my first aid kit.
"This is just perfect, what did we get ourselves into this time, huh, Gary?" I asked, stopping to look at the fish, my arms heavy with bandages, ointments and anything else that looked like something found in a first aid kit. Gary tilted his head up, and I frowned, he seemed to think it was a bad idea to let random bleeding men into the apartment at night.
"Bah, you’re just jealous," I muttered, turning away from the fish and toward the injured man on my floor. First things first, I had to remove his shirt. I reached out slowly, and poked him first. He didn’t stir; I tugged on the front of the shirt and waited. He was out. Seeing this as my green light, I went to unbutton the shirt, but frowned at the sight that awaited me. His shirt, which had once been a silky black material, had been ripped to shreds. I had only to tug on it to get it to slip off of him completely. I quickly regretted my decision as vomit rose to my mouth at the sight of his mangled torso. The boy’s entire upper body was a mess, marked by five long ragged gashes. I turned away, struggling to keep the bile down. Blood and gore was my weakness, and the sight of him was making me want to pass out. Looking down at myself, I noticed for the first time that my shirt and jeans were soaked with his blood.
"Oh, Jesus…" I whimpered, putting my hand over my mouth. I had to keep strong now; I couldn’t just let him bleed out on my floor! I’d never get my deposit back then…
I stood, my knees weak, as I soaked two towels in cold water and brought them out. I took a deep breath, before going to work cleaning and patching him up as best I could.
A half an hour, two bottles of peroxide, three trips to the bathroom, four dirty towels, six packs of bandages, and one shower later, I was finished. I had managed to stop the major bleeding and hauled him onto my bed, which was the only piece of furniture I owned big enough to hold him. Afterwards, I had been so drenched in disgusting bodily fluids that I had to take an hour long show to wash it all off. As I watched the blood swirl down the drain, I finally had time to think about this surprising turn of events. Who was this guy? And why did I let him into my house? All sorts of bad things were to follow, I was sure of it. I had the feeling that this was going to work out just as my books did. The mafia was trying to kill him, or something like that, and now that they had seen me, they were gonna kill me too, or at least try to. The boy would turn out to be a silent hero, and would protect me from my attackers.
"As if…" I sighed, and turned off the shower. I stepped into the cold air of my bathroom with a plan. I would hang out in my living room until I heard him getting up, then once he had wandered into the living room, I would feign sleep, and he would be able to leave quietly without any drama. I nodded at my plan, a triumphant smile on my face as I slipped through my house like a shadow. I stopped by my bedroom door and peered inside. He was still out cold on my bed. I would have covered him with my blanket, except I couldn’t pull the blanket out from underneath him. How I was going to miss that blanket. It was freezing both outside and inside, and I now had to sleep in the living room.
Creeping through my own home felt weird, but I made it to the living room without any major catastrophes, kicked off my shoes, grabbed my jacket, and curled up on the couch, closing my eyes. The very moment I did, I heard him. My bed creaked, and I heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor. The quiet sound of the bedroom door opening seemed deafening, and then there was utter silence. My heart was beating rapidly, thumping too hard in my chest and it felt as though it was going to break my ribs. The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end—he was looking at me. He was far, far too close. Why didn’t he just leave! I didn’t even care if the man robbed me, as long as he was gone and left me alone.
He was still staring at me. I could practically feel his eyes burning holes though my back. My only option flickered in my mind, and I clenched my eyes tighter. I was going to jump up, make a large noise, and startle him. As he recovered from his shock, I’d make a run for it. My muscles twitched in anticipation, and with a deep breath, I took action.
"Booga Booga!" I screamed as loud as I could, opening my eyes and jumping up from the couch kicking and screaming. The boy screamed as well, falling backwards onto the floor in his surprise. I hit the ground running and sprinted for the door, the scream all gone from my lungs. I was making good progress until suddenly, I ran into something hard. I heard a cry of pain before I fell backward landing on the floor opposite the boy. He was cringing in pain, his bandages turning red once more. Pity tore at my heart, but I scrambled to my feet and backed away from him.
"No…n-no, I’m s…I’m sorry," he gasped, looking like he could barely keep consciousness. His eyes were roaming all over the room, as if he was having trouble focusing.
"I ju-just want to… to… thank…"
How could I hurt that? He looked like he was dying! I should have called the ambulance, but how would I explain the situation to them? I doubted that would go over well. With a troubled sigh, I bent down beside him, and put my hand on his chest lightly, pushing him back to the floor. He couldn’t get up, and I couldn’t haul him all the way back into the bedroom onto the bed again. I reached over him, grabbing the pillow from the couch and put it under his head. His mouth kept on moving, like was still trying to talk, but a minute later he seemed to have fallen back to sleep.
"This can not end well…." I muttered and sighed. Just my luck—that was my only pillow.
