The Stars In Your Eyes ✩ Tim Shepard

Drunk Sick And Beat Up

I sat on my bed reading a book with a record playing in the background as a crisp spring breeze drifted through the half-open window when I heard it.

Tap

Tap

I stood up from my bed, tossing down my book. By then the sound had become familiar, and in a way, comforting. I don't know if I was excited to see Tim, or not. Regardless, I still wanted to see him. However, I was about to wish I didn't fully open my window.

Before I could even get a word in, Tim had already hoisted himself through, before practically falling on top of me.

His greasy hair was all over the place, and his face had been all cut up and bruised. He was most definitely drunk. Before I could ask what had happened, though I was sure I had some sort of idea, he had already pushed himself away from me before collapsing onto the bed. He looked awful, not just because he was drunk and beat up, but because he looked sick.

Without thinking, I pulled the comforters, that had been kicked to the end of my bed, up around him, before feeling his forehead. He was burning up.

I seemed to be acting on instinct, as I snuck out of my room and to the kitchen for a glass of water before going back. Luckily, Megan was at Paul's, and Mom always fell asleep as soon as ten o'clock hit. James and I were the night owls in the family.

"Drink this," I said as I got back to my room. Tim murmured something, taking the glass with shaky hands, barely being able to bring it to his lips before I had to help him.

"Thanks..." He slurred. His voice was weak and raspy, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath from a mile away.

"Get some sleep," I responded, grabbing a hoodie from my dresser drawer and throwing it on.

"Where is ya going?" He asked weakly as I slid on my flats.

"To get you some help. Just stay in here, if mom wakes up and finds you, we're both gonna be in worse shape than you're already in." I said.

As I walked passed Tim, to get to the window, he weakly grabbed my wrist. Even in his weakened state, the boy managed to drag me to my knees beside him. "Mhm, little soc," He groaned, his fingers dancing on my wrist, "don't-... mhm, don't go-... my little soc."

"Get some sleep." I sighed. I glanced at the boy one more time, giving his heated forehead a quick peck before I was out the window.

I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Tim would have come to me in the state he was in and not to his gang. I wondered how far he had to travel to get to me. Was I really the closest one to him? And anyway, how did this happen to him? Drunk, sick, and beat up, what was he doing before? Did I even want to know?

I was sort of switching between running and walking to get to the alleyways by the tracks. I was hoping to find Curly or Angela, they could take better care of Tim than I could.

I mean, they were Tim's family, I was just some broad he was hanging around with. Knowing his infamous reputation, he was bound to up and leave sooner or later. I shouldn't have gotten so attached, maybe then it would have been easier to let him go when he was gone...

As I reached the darkened alleys, I kinda expected Curly to emerge from the shadows like he had done the last two times we went through this. But no such luck. The tracks were abandoned, like "abandoned" as in you could hear a pin drop. But there was an eerie silence all around me, not even a whistle echoed through the air.

The half-moon was covered by dark, low-hanging clouds, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet. I was tempted to call out Curly's name, but before I could, someone wrapped an arm around me and put a large hand over my mouth. I wondered how I kept getting into situations like this.

Even though the man had an arm around me, I somehow managed to bring my arm up and jab my elbow into his stomach. With a sharp intake of breath, the man, who I now realized was a boy, let go of me. As I looked over my shoulder, I was relieved to see the familiar sight of a boy as large as a building, with scars covering his muscular arms and face. Even though there was barely any light, his blue eyes still glowed with a thirst similar to that of a killer whale.

"Whales," I sighed, glad to see it was him and not some random guy. Whales clutched his stomach, but only for a second before he straightened himself up.

"Sorry, little soc," He said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you was someone else. What are you doing out here anyway? I thought Shepard already talked to you about loning it."

"Where's Curly?" I asked urgently. Whales looked down at me with a curious look on his face.

"Thought you would be looking for Tim." He said.

I shook my head. "Curly? Where is Curly?"

"Right here little soc. Relax." A voice said, making both me and Whales look at its source. "Whatcha need me for?"

"It's Tim," I said, crossing my arms as I turned to fully look at the boy.

Curly shrugged, taking a drag from the cigarette he held between his fingers. "What about him?"

"What do you mean 'what about him'?" I asked, a little in shock that Curly didn't seem to care about his brother all that much. "He showed up at my house drunk, sick, and beat up. Now, if you cared about him at all, I'd think you would jump at the chance to help him out. He is your brother after all."

Curly's eyes widened at my outburst. Which was just me speaking a little above my normal voice, but hey, I didn't like to yell very often.

Whales and Curly shared a long look, which seemed to make sense to the two of them but not to me. Suddenly, Curly had me by the upper arm and was dragging me back the way I had come. I couldn't help but wince, seeing as he grabbed my bad arm.

"Sorry." He said flatly, letting go of me as soon as Whales had vanished into the darkness, then he started to explain. "Tim and Damien went out for drinks earlier. Now, D can out-drink anyone, even Two-bit."

"Two-bit?" I asked before he could continue.

"Friend of ours, D and Two are usual drinking partners." He said, taking another drag from his cigarette. "But anyway, Tim musta got a little too boozed up and got into a scrap with the Kings or Tigers. He hasn't touched a drop since-..."

Curly cut himself off, practically cuffing a hand over his mouth as he did so. He had this look on his face, that said he had let on too much.

"Since what?" I pressed. Curly sped up his walk, causing me to speed up as well. He had said too much about something and back then I was determined to find out what. "Curly, since what?"

Curly glanced over at me, an almost apologetic look in his eye. "Since the night he met you." He said.