Not My Fault

Chapter two: Questions

When I regain consciousness, the first thing I feel, surprisingly isn't my blood drenched hand, but a painstaking headache. I look down to see my right hand half covered in bright red blood and start to taste it in my mouth. I don't remember crying, but my face is doused in tears and my eyes are itchy and sore.

The ache in my head only gets only gets worse when I look up and my purple LED lights are still on. I turn them off as quick as I can and my room darkens because they were the only light source other than the sun, which was now setting. How long was I out? It didn't feel very long. I remember getting angry and biting my hand so I wouldn't break something. Then it all went black and the next thing I know, I'm waking up half on my bed with my hand and mouth covered in blood and sweat.

I got angry. Why did I get angry?

I look over to my open laptop, and the Instagram page still there. Now I remember. I was looking at Emmet Wacsher's account and accidentally saw that my brother Carter was following him. I know he must have had a good reason, it was a stupid way to get so worked up, but that's just how things are for me. I get so angry about the stupidest little things. Apparently angry enough to bite a chunk out of my own hand.

I make my way to the bathroom and first rinse my hand off in the sink. I then grab a towel and wipe not only my wet hands, but also my sweat covered face forehead. I feel like I've just been thrown around in a washing machine.

I hear a creak behind me and turn to see my brother, Reggie looking at me from where he was standing in the hallway.

"Jesus, you cosplaying a vampire or something? What do you think you're doing?" He says, mildly concerned.

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine." I say, trying to brush him off, because I know if I tell him the truth he'll only ask more questions.

"Suit yourself." He says. "Dad says supper's ready, you might want to wipe that off before you come down though."

"You got it." I say in a sarcastic tone. He then rolls his eyes and walks away.

*

After completely cleaning off my face and putting rubbing alcohol on my hand, followed by a thick bandage in hopes that it will heal without any stitches, I go downstairs to join my family for supper.

"Glad to see you could join us." Says dad, and I realize they are already about a third way through their meal.

"Yea, sorry about that," I say, "I was finishing something up for school." (I wasn't.) "Some speech thing I have to do at the assembly next week. I still have to edit it though"

"Is that so?" He replies. "And what's the assembly for?"

"Oh, nothing important, just something about consent and all that teenager stuff."

"So why'd they choose you?"

"Um.." I pause. I don't want to tell him it's about bullying, I don't want to talk about my bullying at the dinner table. "I don't actually know.." That seems to do the trick.

"What happened to your hand, hun?" Says Mim after a moment of silence.

"Oh, that was a nasty paper cut. Huh, Reg?" I say hoping for some backup, which Reggie is awfully good at giving.

"Oh, yea, definitely, you should have seen it, Mim, it was gruesome." Reggie says in an exaggerated but believable tone. For an asshole, he's very loyal to those he truly cares about.

"Oh, sweetie, I hope you're alright."

"I'll be fine, I've got it all patched up." I say with a smile. Everyone turns their attentions back to their plates while Reggie starts to ramble about some hockey game he watched on the weekend. I just want to go back upstairs to my room and call Carter to ask why the hell he was following none other than Emmet Wacsher on instagram.