SKINTIGHT (Watty Awards 2024)

Chapter 10

Rio

Violet sprints down the street, hurling down the footpath at record speed. I hurry after her, but I won't catch her. She's too far ahead. And she's persistent. She is barrelling over the pavement. She's running for her life.

I pick up my pace, desperate to reach her. I run all the time, but not like this — not with a purpose besides exercise. She shouldn't be alone. I wouldn't do this for anyone else I trained. But I actually care about her. I want her to be okay.

I need to make sure she's okay. It won't be long until she starts to come down. Most of her anger must have subsided by now. Soon it will be replaced with remorse. The adrenaline will subside and she'll crash. And she shouldn't be alone when that happens. I don't know her history. I don't know why she's at anger management, or why she's in therapy, but there must be a reason. And I can't be sure that she won't hurt herself.

The further away she gets, the more chance we have that she will run into traffic. When you're that angry, you don't know what you're doing. And once you're coming down... you'd do it on purpose.

Part of me thinks I should've kicked the door in long before it went quiet, but I know better than that. She needed space. She needed room to breathe, and me not giving it to her would've made everything worse.

She completely destroyed the bathroom. The toilet seat hangs off its hinges, and rolls of toilet paper spread over the floor. She smashed the dispenser on the floor and kicked the pile of new ones over. The soap dispenser is still intact, but it's hanging by a single screw. I don't give a fuck about that shit, though. I can fix it. What worries me is the drops of blood leading up to the window. She must've been cut by something – a shard of plastic. It can't be glass. The mirror is untouched. Her anger is clearly physical.

She was frantic — worlds away, stuck in a frenzy of fury. I fought my instincts, knowing there was nothing I could do. I couldn't interfere. There was no point. Anything I'd say would have just made it worse. Just the sound of my voice could've sent her over the edge. Any doctor would have restrained her, but that would've just made it more distressing for her. Trust me, I would know. I've been there countless times myself. When you're that angry, you want to burst out of your skin. All you want is to destroy.

And that's exactly what she did.

The rain pours down on us. I can feel the thick droplets hit my face. It should be cold, but I'm far from it. All it's affecting is my line of sight. I can see Violet, but she's a blur. She's yards ahead of me, approaching the neighbourhood playground. We're a good two miles from the gym now. She must be getting tired. Her anger must be wearing off. She's bound to collapse soon. I'm gaining on her quicker than I thought, but it isn't until I see her fall that I'm certain I'll catch her.

Violet loses her footing. Her knees buckle beneath her, hitting the pavement painfully hard. She doesn't get back up. By the time I reach her, she's laying on her side, her arms cradling her knees.

"Violet," I crouch down beside her. There's blood dripping from her leg, leaking down to her ankle and onto the road. She's drenched in rain and her eyes are red from crying. She looks... small. She glances up at me.

"It hurts," she mumbles, her voice a whisper.

"Your knee?" I eye the gash on her skin. It's deep. It can't be from her fall. She must have cut it on something in the bathroom. "Let me help you up."

"I can't," she shakes her head.

"Come on," I reach around her shoulder. "I'm gonna lift you up."

"It hurts," she whines, but she doesn't protest. I sit her up straight, her arms still wrapped around her legs. She's shivering, but I don't have anything to warm her with. I take a seat beside her and pull her into me. At least we can share body heat. She can't keep herself up straight, anyway.