Flesh and Blood

Chapter 18 - Eat Your Fucking Heart Out, Man

Luke never imagined that he would ever be in a situation like this. He never thought that he would see, with his own eyes, Damien balls-deep in Helen with a bloodied knife in his hand. He never thought that he would hear, with his own fucking ears: "I asked Damien to do this!"

After the tournament was cancelled, he expected that he'd go back home, watch some stupid reality t.v. shows, and get some sleep. But no, he came home to witness that. What kind of world did he fucking live in? Apparently a world that was intent on keeping him permanently pissed off.

It wasn't even the world that pissed him off. It was Damien. He could write a list of all the things that Damien does that pissed him off, but the list would be too damn long. Where would he even begin?

• Being a fucking serial killer

• Almost murdering their friend

•Almost murdering their friend while fucking her

• Being one of the few people he still cared about, despite the previous points.

Never. Never did he imagine he would be caught in such a dilemma.

***

A few days had passed since the incident and Luke and Damien were still not on speaking terms. They weren't on seeing terms either. Luke was worried that Damien had disappeared again, but no, Damien just cleverly avoided him.

Luke and Helen, however, managed to maintain some civility. They had to, if they wanted to keep sane. They also had to ignore the incident, otherwise keeping sane would be impossible. But they both knew that, at some point, they had to talk about it.

"Luke?"

Luke glanced up from his phone to see Helen at the doorway. "Yeah?"

"I think I popped one of my stitches."

He sighed and followed Helen to the bathroom. She lifted up her shirt to reveal a scattered mess of stitched wounds. The stitches near her left shoulder blade had popped open. The wound was bleeding, but it was small.

"How is it?" she asked.

"It's not that bad," Luke said, pulling out the first aid kit.

Helen watched him intently as he carefully attached the thread to the needle. "I should learn how to stitch."

Luke glanced at her through the mirror and scoffed. "You can't stitch your own back."

"Yeah, but it's still a useful skill. You should teach me."

"I wouldn't be that great of a teacher."

"Nah, you would be a great teacher. You've gotten a lot of practice."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Yeah, as if stitching up a drunk uncle counts as practice."

"Well, who else would teach me? You honestly think Damien would be better?"

Luke immediately looked away from the mirror and started stitching her up. He was hoping that Helen would keep quiet now that he was stitching her up, but she was not known for keeping quiet about anything.

"Sorry for mentioning him," she blurted out after very few seconds of silence.

"It's not a big deal," he muttered.

"I still think you would be better than him."

"Of course I'm better than him," Luke replied quietly, with a small smirk. "Now, shut up unless you want me to fuck this up."