FicWad

((Sorry that they've been short, but I just like them better shorter.))

"No, Kirk. No! Kirk, no!" Alyssa George screamed at Kirk George as he pulled out a knife and began to slowly cut at her. I stood in the background, pounding on an invisible wall that blocked me from getting to save my mom.
"Kirk, no!" She screamed, and tears fell from my face as he laughed and lifted the knife in the air, bringing it down with a sickening 'ggk.'
I sat up with a start, looking around me. Everything ached then; my arm, my knee, and my head mostly. With a quick glance around me I recognized the apartment, and noticed I had a blanket covering me./ Thanks for the hospitality, guys,/ I thought, leaning back on the couch and puffing the air out of my lungs, but I feel like an abandoned, hurt puppy right about now. I sat up again, putting my feet on the ground and standing up for a moment, to see if I could stand.
To tell the truth, I was surprised. Surprised that somebody listened to me and didn't take me to the hospital- most adults would just take me to the hospital- if they bothered to take me at all. Absent mindedly, I began to pick at the still-healing scar on my lip, and sat back down. What was there to do at 3 or 4 in the morning when you're at a stranger's house and you can barely even walk? Nothing. Then there was this soft voice- I almost didn't hear it.
"Are you awake?" It asked, and I then heard someone moving in the kitchen, the owner of the voice. I didn't know why- later on I guess it was from the usual sarcastic remarks or the bitter mood I was in, but I simply responded,
"No." The person came out, and it was the blondie. I sat up still, with my feet on the ground, staring at the wall. Gerard, his name was, came and sat next to me.
"So, how did you say this happened to you?" He asked, and I sighed.
"You want to know the truth, huh? The real truth? I have no evidence on this, but I'm pretty sure my dad killed my mom." I said, running a hand through my dark blonde hair. "He came home with her purse- and there was blood on the purse, too, but only a little bit. And then he just started hitting me. And I ran, until I couldn't run, and then you found me." I shifted positions slightly, and then felt the iPod in my pocket, along with something else. The knife! It had been the same knife from my dream. "I think he might have killed her with this." I said, slowly pulling out the knife. "He cleaned it, though. The dried blood is mine." I said, and Gerard turned on a lamp near the couch to look at it for a second.
"Is this the knife he used to cut your elbow?" I nodded slightly, placing my head on my hand.
"This is kind of a random question, but why aren't you asleep, like your friends?" The man shrugged, running a hand through his blonde hair and opening the knife.
"I haven't been able to sleep for a while." He admitted, closing the knife. I let the air slip out of my lungs in an awkward moment.
"Thanks for um, well, not just leaving me on the street or anything. I probably would have just froze to death." I said, looking at him for a moment.
"You're welcome." He said, smiling slightly. I smiled also, setting the knife on the end table of the couch. "And you should sleep. Don't follow my example, or you might just end up like me." He said, flicking off the light. "Which actually could be a good thing." I smiled and shook my head.
"That depends." I said just so he could hear me as he walked back into his room.