A Match Made in Hell

9

I knock on the door repeatedly like a maniac, not being able to hold myself up anymore. My hands are too weak to even hold onto something.

I can't breathe, I actually can't breathe. There's a knot in my chest, tightening every time I gasp or take a breath.

The door suddenly swings open, Karl stands there in shock with wide eyes, immediately catching me as I fall into his arms.

"Nick, what in the fucks name happened to you?!" He raises his voice slightly, slapping his hand on my cheek to get me back to my senses, it doesn't seem to work.

I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head as I fall, he catches me just in time before my head hits the floor and wraps my arm around his shoulder, helping me in.

He's asking so many questions but I can't hear any of it. This is worse then being in a hospital full of stressed out people near you.

He lays me down on the couch and sits on the floor beside me, shaking me in fear. God, I didn't think he'd care so much.

I can barely see him, but, fuck, I wish I could talk to him. I'm surprised my brain is even functioning right now.

He places a hand under my neck and helps me drink the glass of water in his hand, pouring it into my mouth slowly.

I drink it, struggling to swallow. I realize his hand is shaking. It's shaking a lot. I wish I could assure him that I was okay.

I pant for air and place a hand on my throat.

"Can you talk?" He asks quietly. His chest rising and falling fast. I shake my head no, tears stinging my eyes.

It burns. It all burns, it hurts so fucking badly.

"It's fine, you don't have to talk." He places a hand on mine. "But I have to clean your wounds, come on." He supports my back with his hand and I wrap my arm around his shoulder.

I groan as he helps me up and I throw my head back, regretting it instantly because of the cut on my neck. I think it would have been easier if I were dead.

My vision is blurry, too blurry to see Karl's expression, but it's good enough to see that there's blood and purple marks all over me.

My eyes are red and my face looks pale, I can feel tears filling my eyes. I sit on his bed infront of the mirror as he gets on his knees Infront of me with a first aid kit next to him.

"who did this to you, nick?" He whispered quietly, his voice breaking. I think I saw a tear roll down his cheek.

My poor baby. My poor Karl, he does not deserve this. He doesn't deserve to witness any of this or have to put up with me, and it makes me feel so damn guilty.

"I don't know." I lie in a quiet, raspy voice and cough. It's not completely a lie, just because I know his name doesn't mean I know who he was.

He frowns and leans in, placing a sweet kiss on my lips. God, how did he just kiss me when I coughed out blood a million times?

"Do you actually not know or do you just not want to tell me?" He lifts my chin up. I close my eyes and sigh.

"Look at me, nick." He demands, holding my chin in place firmly. "You don't have to tell me anything. I just don't want anything to happen to you again."