Chapter 20

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KYLE

Casey called her home four times and no one picked up so we assumed her mom had left. She drove me and my brother down the street to her house and she laid a towel over the couch and told me to take my shirt of and lay down. Having glass picked out of your side is not fun but it was nothing compared to the guilt I felt about what I had done. I knew I had let both of them down, but I think I let myself down the most. I had honestly believed that I could quit drinking cold turkey. Now we all knew I wasn't that strong. As I descended deeper into thought I decided I should focus instead on the repetitive sharp, stinging pricks as to keep myself from crying. After she finished clearing the glass out of me I received orders to go shower. Quinn told me it was necessary for more reason than one, especially because "I was making Casey's house smell suspiciously like controlled substances." I didn't need any convincing though. It felt good to be clean, and also I had five precious minutes to breakdown where no one would know.

CASEY

Sleeping on glass can really do a number on you. It took some creativity to figure out how to bandage Kyle's side and I ultimately ended up wrapping the bandages all the way around his chest. I cleaned and wrapped his hands as well which had multiple deep cuts on the palms. After all was taken care of, the three of us sat in a row, on the edge of my bed, in forlorn and dreadful but somewhat necessary silence. Kyle had his palms upturned and was staring down at them and the blood begining to creep through to the top layer of gauze. His tight abdomen was white with bandages in front, and red with blood soaked cloth on the side. I grabbed the gauze and wrapped another layer around him. He flinched and rubbed his neck uncomfortably. Quinn broke the scilence.

"How ya holdin' up?"

Kyle took a minute to reply, "I'm going to get better. I promise."

"Kyle, I just want you to be okay. You aren't doing any of this alone and you don't have to do it all at once."

"I thought I could." Kyle replied, still staring at his hands.

"I have no doubt that you can but you've got to do what's best for you and I don't want you to be under the stress of quitting all at once."

"I'm not going to drink again Quinn, not even a little. Its stupid."

Quinn didn't reply. I placed my hand on Kyles's over his black jeans and he looked up at me. "So you had a weak night, you made a mistake, but the injuries you infliced were only on yourslef Kyle and right now it still hurts and you still have a hangover and your mind is still swimming, but wait till morning because you're already starting to heal and we're all going to move on from our weak nights together, no exceptions." I couldn't read in Kyle's face whether my words had made him feel better or worse. 

"Casey's right, and we should be getting out of here before her mom comes back." Quinn dictated. Kyle lifted himself from the bed. The springs creeked as he slowly stood. Quinn reached around him gently. Kyle was a bit taller than Quinn normally, but Kyle was hunched over a couple inches from the strain of standing on his stiff muscles and torn skin. I got up to follow but Quinn shot me a look. I understood. Both of them needed to feel independent right now. I realised that the rough spots in the road were the things that really set us back the most. Not the blood or fractures but the morale issues. We had become our own little team and it would be easier for the player to recover emotionally if he limped slowly off the feild himself than was lifted swiftly onto the sidelines by a trainer. 

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