Red Looks Better On Liars- Schlatt X Quackity

11~Don't Hold It Against Me. Bitch.

He stands stunned without a word, removing his hands from around my own, instead bringing them towards the petals. He touches them as if proving it was real. I couldn't believe it either.

   "What the fuck," I begin, my voice shutters, blood still pooling from my hand, the crimson death beginning to cover my entire wrist, falling down my arm. 

Schlatt stayed silent.

I pick up the rose from my other hand. It was just as it looked, a beautiful blue navy rose. I couldn't believe it.

I take one look at it before shaking my head profusely. "I-..." I begin, not a single word falling to my tongue. I didn't know what to say. 

I slowly look up at Schlatt, still holding the rose. 

   "What's wrong with me..?" I ask him, a saddened expression on my face.

   "Oh..." He begins, as if he himself wasn't trying to search for any answer. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you." 

I don't respond. I didn't want him to respond. 

I try to get onto my feet, shaking as I do so. I grip onto the wall next to me, trying as hard as I possibly could to not have Schlatt help me. I couldn't even look at him right now. 

I claw my way to me feet, my knees still quaking from the hefty fall. 

I study Schlatt's movements, he seemed a bit saddened, but at the same time numb. Just as I was. He was still crouched to the ground, looking up at me. I look down. It was a sense of power I'd never felt before. 

    "Just so you know, I didn't mean what I had said," He begins to apologize, only an hour late. "And, I'm sorry."

   "I don't accept your apology." 

   "I. . ." He seems stunned by my reaction, unsure on how to respond, "I understand. But please allow me to explain," 

   "Why should I? You said what you said. And you're right. I am just like my father." I speak, crossing my arms.

   "Fine, but at least allow me to wrap your hand?" He asks, standing up from his crouched position. 

   "Once again, why should I?" 

   "I doubt you know." 

   "Why should I wrap it to begin with?"

   "Do you want to bleed out and die on my carpet?" 

I stay quiet.

   "Exactly, now give me your hand." 

We walk a couple steps towards the kitchen, as the roll of gauze was already set out on the counter as he never put it away. He carefully, (and quickly) wraps my wound, applying slight pressure to it as he works.

I stay silent. I barely look him in the eyes. He places the end in his mouth, ripping it apart with his teeth, tucking the excess into the rest of my wrap. He gives it a couple tugs before deciding it was tight enough. 

    "Now that I wrapped your hand, do you mind if I explain myself..?" He begins. I reluctantly sigh, nodding him on. Sure, I was upset at him, but no need making unnecessary conflict. 

    "Thank you. I really just needed you out of the room. I was unsure on how to get you out of the room without it seeming suspicious." He tries to reason with me.

   "So you mocked me cutting myself?" My hands become crossed once more.

   "Yes, but-" 

   "There is no 'but' in this situation. I'm pissed, and you can't change that."