Trapped In Your Bleeding Heart (Riff x Reader)

Chapter Two - Seeing For The First Time

(Dogs with squinty eyes deserve the world)

After I left the apartment building, I made my way down the streets of Manhattan. Dogs were barking. Birds were chirping. I tilted my head up towards the sky. An airplane glided across the clouds in the distance. The sun came out from behind a building and placed a kind, warm glow onto my face. I smiled, and began to hum quietly to myself. I may have been bitter about my former college, but at least I still had the simple joys of city mornings.

Suddenly, a car honked. I yelped in surprise, and looked across the street to the origin of the sound. There was a group of boys, all looking to be around my age, hooting and hollering as they cascaded down the streets. They danced and whistled, singing and chanting and throwing things. One of them kicked the car that had honked at them. Another laughed at the sight. It was rare to see so many white boys around these parts...

One of them yelled something, and appeared at the front of the group. He was one of the taller ones-- and by the way everyone was following him, it seemed like he was some sort of leader to them. He began to snap a steady beat, and soon the rest of the boys picked up the rhythm. Now the group was strutting down the center of the street, carrying paint cans and brushes, snapping shamelessly as traffic had no choice but to stop for them.

I watched in confusion and slight enthrallment. What on earth were they doing? My eyebrows furrowed. My feet moved on their own. I began to notice the space around me growing tense. Mothers pulled their children indoors, and off of the sidewalks. Other women and boys went inside of stores or apartment complexes-- anything to get away from the boys with the paint. But it didn't take long for Puerto Rican men to file out onto the streets, sprinting through the city, chasing down the group of boys.

I watched one of the white boys tear down a restaurant sign that had to have been only 10 feet or so from where I was standing. "Hey!" I shouted, walking closer to the boy. "What do you think you're doing?"

The boy was shorter than some of the others, and had a slight grin on his face. He turned towards me with an expectant expression, but grew confused when he saw my face. "What are you doing around here?" He asked, his face becoming less friendly by the second. "Who are you to yell at me?" He added.

I took a step back, but remained collected. "Your boy band is running away." I spat. "You better run along before those Puerto Rican men catch up."

The boy scoffed. "You know what—" he started, shoving a finger in my direction and storming towards me.

Suddenly, a fist smashed against the boy's face, slamming him into the wall before causing him to fall to the ground. I looked up to the figure who had hit the boy. It was Bernardo.
"What are you doing?" Bernardo asked, shaking his hand off. "You need to get out of here. Ahora! Go!"

It took me a moment to process his words, and that they were directed at me, as opposed to the white boy he had punched into the wall. "Rose! Go home!" He urged again, already breaking into a jog again, heading straight after the group of paint boys from earlier.

I paused, and then looked down to the boy who had yelled at me. He was seemingly unconscious now. "Snowboy!" Another voice yelled, rushing towards the ground and checking on the young man. "What did you do to him?"

It was another white boy, but he looked much younger and scrawnier than the rest. "I did nothing to him." I answered honestly. "What's happening?"

The boy scoffed. "You new here or something? Why are you on the Fishes' side of town anyway? You ain't Puerto Rican."

My mouth fell slightly agape. "Fishes?"

The little boy furrowed his eyebrows. "You slow or something?" He asked.

I swallowed harshly and edged my way around the pair. I still wanted to go to the poorer parts of town to look after the injured and sick. Especially after what had just taken place. "I have to go." I stated in a daze.

I hoped that this was an odd occurrence that would be explained to me in greater detail later by Maria or Anita– or Bernardo. Certainly there was some event happening today, although I was very confused as to why it involved boys getting slugged in the face. Suddenly, a sharp sound attacked me from an alley. I fell to the ground, my impact softened by my backpack. I looked frantically to where the sharp sound came from. It sounded almost like a...

BARK!

I squealed and shot to my feet. There, tied up in the alley, was a large black dog with a paint can taped around his muzzle, and rope tying his legs together.

BARK!

The dog's woof echoed throughout the metal can taped around his mouth, making the noise an unpleasantly harsh sound. I gasped and rushed to the dog's aid, foolishly untangling the rope tied around the dog's feet first, before attempting to remove the paint can. Without hesitation, the dog scampered away as fast as possible as soon as he was mobile. I stood straight and chased after the dog. "Wait, you'll hurt yourself!" I called breathily after him.

The dog attempted to dodge my pursuit through a broken fence, but some of the rope that remained around his back legs got stuck on the wire, causing his body to yank back towards the fence. I caught up shortly after and dropped to my knees once more, gasping softly. "Jesus, dog," I said, "You're making me pant more than you..."

The dog continued to try to get away from me, but soon calmed down when I began removing the duct tape around his head. "How cruel..." I muttered, trying to remove the tape from the dog's fur without causing too much pain. "Did those paint-can-boys do this to you? They seem like nothing but trouble."

Once the tape was loose enough, I carefully removed the paint can from the dog's muzzle. "Well," I said, discarding the metal into a nearby garbage can. "At least it didn't have any paint in it."

The dog wagged his tail happily and squinted his eyes at me. I laughed lightly and approached the dog once more, now having the opportunity to fully remove the rope around the dog's legs. "Look at those smiling eyes!" I remarked, patting the dog's head. "Somebody's happy!"

Now, even with no rope keeping him back, the dog happily remained by my side. "Well, squinty," I stood. "This is where we part ways."

I opened the wire gate and continued out of the alley, following the street signs to get to the underside. Not long after I left the alley, however, Iheard little steps behind me. I turned around to see the large black dog trotting along, following three feet or so behind me. "Don't you have an owner? No stray is sweet like you, Squinty."

The dog, upon being spoken to, wagged his tail excitedly and ran to my side. As I continued walking a few steps, he followed closely, as if on a leash. "I suppose you'll be coming with me then, Squinty." I said. "I could use some company, anyway. The underside can get pretty dangerous."

Squinty trotted with his cropped tail high in the air. He was very agreeable. I laughed lightly to myself.

. . .

Soon the buildings began to decrease in height and quality, and there seemed to be less energy in the air. The underside was the poorest part of Manhattan housing, and was home to most of the sick and injured population. It was also scarcely safe, and incredibly over populated. No one liked to talk about the underside. Not even me. But then— sometimes I needed to lighten the load of guilt— of the wasted opportunity I had caused by not finishing school.

If I had only gotten through one more year— I thought— I could help so many more people...

Author's note: I know these beginning chapters are a little dull, but I'm really liking where this story is going!!! Everything I write about has a purpose... I'm very excited for any readers who are going to stick around 🥰