The aftermath of the fight...
I sat in that bin for what seemed like an eternity. Unmoving and silent just like the rest of the world. Feeling alone as always. I let the tears fall as I drowned in self pity. Suddenly a shadow fell over my face. I looked up, but all I saw was a dark figure with a bright halo of light around his head. It must be an angel that has come to end my sufferings. I was ready. Hell, I've been ready for quite some time now. Death had been plaguing my mind a lot lately. The angel reached down grabbing me by my hoodie and lifted me out with little effort. My head lulled on the angel's thin, but strong shoulder as he cradled me in his equally strong arms. I felt warm and safe as I used what was left of my strength to cling to my angel's jacket. I breathed in his scent which surprisingly smelled of chemicals, shaving cream, and smoke. As I felt myself being lowered on to the cold floor I tried to protest and wrapped my arms around the angel's neck. I want to go with him... I don't want him leave me here. My hands were pried off easily and I began to squirm. The angel sighed and pressed me against the floor, instructing me to lay flat on my back. I squinted hard trying to see through my, once again, hazy vision to see who my savior was. Then I heard a fimilar voice.
"Jeez kid, everytime I run inta ya, yer covered in blood..." a husky voice worriedly said. I felt something damp and soft gentally mop off some of the crusting liquids on my forehead. Tears brimmed my eyes and this time I didn't care if Mac would see them fall. I let them spill. Running down my temples and into my blood soaked hairline. "Awe, c'mon kid, it'll be ight. We'll get 'em back un 'ay or un other," he reasoned as he used the cloth to dab the tears away. Then a second dark figure sat up next to Mac. The smaller held the side of their head with their hand and reached out to brush my damp bangs out of my half-closed eyes. As soon as our skin made contact I knew it was Frankie. The places where he touched tingled even after his warmth had left.
"Oh Gee... I'm so sorry.. I-I tried to stop them, but they were too strong..." He trailed off with heavy sorrow tanting his angelic voice. I tried to smile to let him know it was all going to be alright. I couldn't find my voice so instead I reached towards him, searching for comfort and hopefully giving some back to him in return. He met me half way with his hand and laced his fingers inbetween mine. We fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. I wonder if this was just a friendly gesture or something more. He placed his other hand on top, holding my hand in a sandwich of warmth. I smiled, feeling numb. In a good way this time, not because the shit had been beaten out of me, but because a perfect, red and black haired boy was holding my hand. Even though it probably ment nothing to him, it ment the world to me... It ment he actually cared. I felt safe. I was with people I trusted.
"Ugh... Yer still be gushing purdy heavy... Imma needa take ya to the nurse er sumptin.." Mac whispered while applying pressure to the gash above my left eyebrow. "Ya may needa few stitches..." Frank gave me one last reassuring squeeze before he let go of my hand to help Mac lift me to my feet. Drapping my arms around their necks, I had Mac on my left and Frankie on my right and even though Frank was about a head shorter than me, he was strong like an ox. My vision was becoming a bit better as we clumsily stumbled to the nurses office. Instead of just seeing nothing but smuged, colored blobs, I now could see the faces of my saviors and their worried expressions. Their silence told me I must be in really bad shape; I felt like it too. Every step I took was like a knife in my thigh. Every breath came in short gasps because if I took one too deep my lungs felt as if they had been drenched in gasoline and lit on fire. My head felt heavy and hung low, I let them stear me in the correct direction. "S'ok kid, we are 'lmost there. May th' person who made cafeteria and th' nurse's office on different sides of th' school be shot! Oh, hold up Frank... I needa wipe his mout 'gain.. He's drippin' on the floor." Warm liquid oozed from my lips and down my chin. I looked behind me, and sure enough there were a few scattered blotches of crimsion on the white tiles.
"Um, M-mac? Does he have any cuts on his mouth? Where is all this blood coming from?" Frankie stated nerviously while peering around my face. Even though my eye sight wasn't perfect at the moment, I could see the fear in his eyes. I tried to speak, but the cloth Mac had was in the way and the fact that I was drained of almost all my energy. Speaking was even a burdon.
"Eh, I can't be sure, but I shud be fine... M'be he jus' bit 'is tongue. Th' nurse 'ill fix 'em up jus' fine," said Mac slowly, sounding unsure. As soon as we had stopped we were up and moving again. In truth, I wasn't really worried. Hell, not too long ago I was hoping for death. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the other kids in the cafeteria were wishing me the same fate. I knew Jersey was a tough place, but this? This was a living Hell. Don't get me wrong, I am proud to be living here and all, but sometimes it is too much. Sometimes I have a moment of weakness and end up cutting or comtemplate suicide. God, the world is a fucked up place.
"It's all going to be okay, Gee... I'm so sorry..." Frankie apologized again, breaking my thoughts. He cocked his head to the side to look at my face again. His blurred features held dark purple brusies in a few places. He looked swollen, face puffy. He still held the side of his head slowly rubbing in circles to soothe the pain. From what I could see, his damage wasn't too bad to be honest. The worst I could see was his left eye which was heavily colored and swollen shut. I looked at him in disbelief. Why does he blame himself? If anyone's to blame, it is those miserable sleazebags who found great fun in kicking the living shit out of us.
"Fwankie... Dis isn't yowr fawlt...." I slurred, sounding as if I had no teeth. My lips tingled with each word. "Yowr pwfect..." I said truthfully, trailing off and instantly regreting saying that out loud... I have only known this kid less than 2 days and I'm already hinting that I have feeling for him that went beyond friendship. We haven't even really become friends yet either. I mentally slapped myself until I noticed that he was blushing. He quickly looked down at his converse, suddenly finding them quite interesting. He mumbled a thanks with a slight smile.
"Ight," Mac clapped his hands together, causing us to jump, "all clean! Let's get goin'... I'll get ta cleanin' up th' blood afterwords.." He said while getting back up and slinging my arm around his neck again. We were almost to the heath office when we heard heels walking across the tile behind us. A slow and steady pace. Clack, clack, clack, clack. The sound grew louder and quicker as the heeled lady advanced toward us. CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK. Something about the sound was unnerving. I don't really know what exactly I was frightend of, but every step made me clench my teeth even tighter. Mac pulled Frank and me to a sudden stop. Now there was no excape. I recoiled my arms from their grasp and fell to my knees. I could feel my mouth watering and my throat getting thick. My stomach lerched in sharp pain and I heaved all over the white tile, spilling it's contents everywhere. Frankie screamed. After I had finished, I opened my eyes and looked down to find that bits of my sandwich from lunch was laying in a puddle of a syrupy, scarlet soup. Blood. The heels stopped just short of the ocean of liquid on the tile.
"W-what's going on here?!?!" The woman screeched in horror. I couldn't answer. I felt dizzy. The walls were spinning and I couldn't get a grip on what was happening. My brain couldn't process what people were asking me. Drenched in cold sweat, I just sat there blankly, my hand resting in my puddle of bile to keep the rest of myself from completely falling into it.