October 25th
I've always liked the cold. It welcomes me. It makes me feel like I'm not alone. Though it also reminds me of the stillness left in her room, there's this comforting feeling knowing the world carries the same feelings as I do. Then there's the obvious reasons, I get to wear my favorite sweaters and people won't ask me about the colors on my arms or why I'm hiding them.
As I walk along the sidewalk to the place I'm supposed to call home, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever find one again. A home. She was home to me, wherever she was I felt safe. That's another thing I will never be able to tell her because I was to stubborn to when she was still here. I wish she was here for father more than me. I wouldn't be so terrified to see him sitting on the couch when I walk through the door. He wouldn't have to escape if she was still here, he'd still appreciate his own reality.
I'm interrupted from my thoughts when I hear paced footsteps behind me. First thing I think is what a lousy kidnapper this person would be, then I remember I could actually be in danger so I start going through the whole being on your phone process. I pull out my phone, place it to my ear, and act like I'm talking to my father, telling him I'll be home very soon. Then place the keys in my pocket in the middle of my index and middle finger.
I feel silly doing this, I know I should be scared and thinking about the person behind me, but then I'm still thinking about the irony of this situation. I let myself get hurt all the time, but now I'm defending myself. Because I ruined my fathers life, I'm okay with it, it makes sense, but this stranger behind me I haven't done anything to.
As soon as I put my phone down I hear them pull their's out. I can tell because of the typing. Were they mocking me or trying to tell me they're not going to hurt me? Or just pulling their phone out? Their pace increases and I try to increase mine without acting suspicious, I'm not trying to start shit but I don't know if they want to start shit or not.
I feel something touch my back and instantly I lose control and swing my hand around as I face them.
"Ow, Fuck!!" A deep but still smooth voice yelled out.
"Holy shit.."
I had used the hand with the keys when I hit him and I left a long cut across his forehead.
"Oww, what the fuck did you do that for?!"
"You ran into me! I thought you were going to hurt me, I was just paying attention."
"Jesus Christ...why would I hurt you?"
"I-I don't know. Does it matter?"
He let out a sigh and collected himself. His hands were still covering his face, trying to sooth the pain.
"Do you need something?"
"No I...I can deal with it. Just continue your day."
He winced and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him and guilty for myself. I hated hurting people.
"Let me help you. Can I walk you home?"
"I live close, really, let me be. I'm not going to die."
"You could. I'm walking you."
He sighed again, but that showed me he accepted my offer. Reluctantly. We walked to his house together and he wasn't lying, it was probably two houses away. I still wanted to do more for him. I feel awful knowing I hurt someone. Let alone someone who did nothing to me. So I tell him that and he lets me come into his actual house with him.
"Don't go crazy again." He says as hands me the keys before giving me a look.
"I'm not-"
"Don't lie to me." He cuts me off with a serious tone, then gives me a smirk. I don't know why but I feel my chest heating up.
I fiddle with the keys but eventually we're able to walk in. His house is really welcoming. He's got light blue walls, white countertops in the kitchen, pale yellow curtains and accents, and a round glass table. I sit him down at the table and ask him if he has a first aid kit.
"In the closet." He points to the closet to my right and I begin my search.
He notices me looking all over and still not being able to find it. I can hear him laugh but he still doesn't help me out at all.
"Are you going to tell me where it is?"
"I did."
"I mean where exa-"
He cuts me off but I realize he's not at the table anymore when he starts talking. He's behind me.
"Right here. Shortie." He grabs a kit from the very top shelf and smirks back down at me.
"I'm not short.." I roll my eyes but inside I feel like...kissing him. Or something. I don't know but he's cute now. I stare off, inspecting his features. He has a sharp jawline, perfectly shaped nose, dark but pretty brown eyes and hair. His hair is only slightly wavy, not completely curly and not straight either.
His smirk turns into a smile, but he turns around before I can say anything else or see anything else. I realized I was staring a little too hard but I felt weird talking now so I didn't excuse myself.
He sat back down at the table and looked down, his whole head facing down. I couldn't tell if he did that because of how he was feeling or if it was a sign for me to look at his cut. Still, I pulled a chair up, opened the kit, and started working on his face. Now I get an excuse to look at him more.
"You know this is going to hurt?"
"Get it over with, would you?"
"Okay, it's a big cut though. You don't want something to hold on to?"
"Want me to hold onto you?" He actually looks up, but I look away. I'm absolutely sure I'm blushing now. The thought of him holding me makes me feel warm. What is this?! I've never really felt like this before.
I say nothing and start cleaning his wound, trying not to press too hard. He winces and shuts his eyes then continues to encourage me to get it over with.
I realize we actually are close enough for him to hold me, at least my thigh, because he grabs it and starts squeezing it. I feel something warm in both places where you're supposed to feel that feeling, or so I've heard. I try to continue cleaning but halfway through I give up and tell myself he'll be fine. I won't, my face feels like it's sweating.
He stops squeezing and let's his hand rest on my thigh, so I'm thinking it was a reflex. He didn't actually realize what he was doing. I start wrapping his head up, gently, to make sure I don't hurt him anymore. To reach the back of his head I have to stand up in front of him. I'm even closer to him now, like close close. I'm afraid he'll do something like pull me down. I'm not ready for that at all.
I finish and step back, giving him and me some space. He grabs my wrist before I can get too far out of reach and I can feel that warm feeling coming back, so I try to hide my face.
"Uhm...before you go, can I have your number or something?"
What?! My number?! Is he for real?
"Sure." I blurt out. I don't even know why I said that, but now I can't give up the poor man's hope. Or mine. This was as far as I've ever gotten in a romantic relationship. I know, so sad.
We finally show each other our faces that are actually both red. He, way too excitedly, took his phone out and gave me it to put my number in. I did and gave him back his phone, along with a warm smile. He smiles back and a grab my things and leave.
As I walk out the door I pull out my phone to check the time. 5:47, shittt. That's around the time my father comes home when he isn't too drunk to.
I run off to my house, becoming faster and faster as time passes. Eventually, I meet the door before it reaches six. Then I put my hand on the knob and prepare myself to open the door.
