"This was going to be one hell of a problem." (Definitely not another thing I forgot to post from a long time ago. Definitely not.)
He was sitting on the floor now, staring blankly at the bullet hole in his floor. Slowly he turned to me, then back to the circle of splintered wood.
“W-what- what is-“ Frank was stumbling over his words. He was more sober after the gunshot, but not by much. I groaned, hands rubbing my forehead feverishly as I tried to think up a solution to the mess I’d created. Frank tried to speak again, but a quick slap shut him up. Finally I took a deep breath, standing up and wiping away the tear tracks that ran down my cheeks.
“Stand up.” I commanded, my voice sounding a bit odd from my stuffed up nose. Frank obeyed, scrambling to his feet. I stepped forward, grabbed his arm, and pulled out my knife. For a split second he looked terrified, and then my knife had slashed across his wrist. Blood poured out, splattering onto the floor. Frank was staring at his arm in a dazed horror and I watched the flow carefully. As soon as I saw enough blood on the floor, I ran to his bathroom and pulled out some bandages. I didn’t have long- I knew somebody must’ve called the cops and that they’d be here soon. I quickly pulled him to me, wrapping his arm tightly in bandages to stop the bleeding before dragging him out of the house by his wrist. I yanked him forward and into my car, strapping him in and then lunging in the driver’s side door.
Moments later I peeled out of the parking lot as fast as I could without drawing attention. I could hear the sirens coming towards us, and steeled my face so I would look like an average citizen driving a drunk friend home. As soon as the cop cars passed us I let out a breath of relief, before turning to look at the half- conscious boy in my seat.
This was going to be one hell of a problem.