just read it, please. X
“No, I know I`m ashamed, very ashamed.” The stranger, well, almost stranger, I knew his name at least, well part of his name, stood there, staring out the window, hair falling into his pale face, eyes wide and unblinking. What was he ashamed of? I barely knew him, but he didn’t seem to be a horrible person, confused and hurt yes, but horrible, no. Plus, he couldn’t have been much older than me, what could he have done in such a shot life to be so ashamed of?
“Please, can we keep the light off?” he asks me, pleading. What was it about the light that he didn’t like; I thought people were afraid of the dark, not the light.
“But, Gee, I need to clean your cuts and-“
“NO!” he yells, and I hold my breath, waiting to hear the dreaded sound of a door opening and creaking floorboard as my mother woke and came to investigate what the hell was going on. She didn’t. Odd.
“I…I mean, I can do it myself.” He mutters feebly, lifting up his right arm, hissing in pain.
“Stop, it might be broken.” I rush forward, and force his arm back down to his side, trying to be as gentle as possible; I didn’t want to hurt him further.
“Let me see.” I’m surprised at the authority in my voice, I wasn`t a shy person, not around my friends but I was never one to take charge of anything. Gee tries to struggle, he fights to get his arm back, but he is so weak that despite being taller and probably stronger than me if he hadn’t been injured, he failed.
“This doesn’t look too good” I say as I roll back the sleeve his jacket, revealing what would usually have been a very palm arm, but was now covered in hundreds, and I do mean hundreds of scratches and dozens of purple and blue splodges, which would look even worse in the morning.
He has stopped fighting me now, so I decide to take this as an opportunity to turn the light on, knowing that to be able to tend to his dreadful wounds, I had to be able to see them clearly something I was unable to do in the dark.
I flip the switch on the wall, Gee doesn’t even try to fight me this time, he just stands there, cradling his arm against his chest, looking shocked and even more confused. I was just happy that he didn’t seem angry, hurt or not he was still taller and older than me and I rather like my life. Oh, who was I kidding? I fucking hated it. It was boring and I got picked on everyday just because of the stuff I liked and because of my stupid faith. I wasn`t even sure I beloved in that shit anymore!
Gee stares at the ground again, apparently he found the back cover of an old edition of some old music magazine extremely interesting.
“Will you just look t me?!” I don’t know what caused me to yell, but suddenly I was angry at him. Ever since we had gotten here he had barley spoken or looked at me. If he didn`t want my help then…no, I would help him anyway, I couldn’t kick him out back onto the streets.
“W...what?” his voice shakes and I`m sure I can see a single tear drip down his pale, bloodied face it pained me to see him-anyone in such a state; he had to be in so much pain.
“Let me go get some bandages and something to clean your cuts in, yeah?” he nods once, still not looking at me. I sigh, giving up, this guy was hopeless.
“I…thank you…Frank.” He hesitates, peaking up at me from under his dark, untidy curtain of hair. In the light I can know see him clearly. He was… beautiful. Wait-what?! I shake my head, ridding myself of the strange thought, almost running out of the room to fetch the items I had told him I was going to get.
“Where `s it?” I mutter again and again, frantically searching the bathroom cabinet for the first aid kit that contained the supplies I needed.
Shit.Fuck.Hell.Crap. I think you get what I mean. Frank had hold of my right arm, the worst one, in a firm yet gentle hold. The logical part of my brain was screaming at me to pull it away, but I couldn’t. One reason was because it hurt too fucking much, the other because I simply didn’t want to.
Frank rolls back the worn, bloodstained jacket sleeve revealing my equally bloody, bruised arm, gasping slightly as it comes into view. I hadn`t really bothered inspecting my wounds myself; I had been too focussed on trying to not be seen by someone.
And ya did a real good job of that, didn’t ya?
Don’t you just hate the little, irritating, stupid, pointless voice in the back of your head? I sure fucking did.
I stand there, frozen as Frank gently prods my arm; he mutters something about it being broken and places my sleeve back down. My breath catches as he leans over me to reach the light switch. I think about fighting him, pushing him away from it, but just don’t have the energy. I think maybe I even wanted him to see me, to recognise me. It was just so…lonely being dead, so tiresome.
The light comes on and I feel like a rabbit caught in a headlight as he stares at me, waiting for me to say something, or to look at him, whichever comes first.
“Will you just look at me!?” I wince; I hadn’t meant to make him angry. I just didn’t know what to say. Had he recognised me as one of the dead kids from across the road?
He shakes his head and sighs, before muttering something about bandages.
“I…thank you…Frank.” He stares at me for a minute then walks right past me and out of the door, without a backwards glace. I knew he was probably just going to get a fist aid kit, but I can’t remember feeling this alone for a long, long time. Being dead was very lonely, being fallen was even worse, but I hadn’t felt this bad for a while. I feel empty, lost and…unwanted. Again.