CARNIVORE [MxM+]

Chapter 9

Tycho Black.

"I catch you anywhere near here tonight I'll fuckin' kill you, Boy!"

Jason threw me by the hair out into the pouring rain.

I flew through the air sideways and landed hard on my side, before rolling once. My face was buried deep in our muddy yard, each drop of rain feeling like a razor slicing through my skull. Its temperature seemed to be steadily dropping as I lay there catching my breath and calming my heart. I remembered the forecast this morning- it was going to reach the low twenties tonight, with a one hundred percent chance of rain. I couldn't stay at the park and binge-drink this away. Not tonight. 

I sat up, careful to not put any pressure on my left hand. Jason and I's little scuffle had torn open the thick scab covering the center of my palm, all but restarting the healing process. It already sucked enough to practice with, so why couldn't I get a fucking break?

I wiped my sleeve across my forehead, noticing the smear of dirt and blood that made its way onto my hoodie. Thankfully, this one was black. A sudden pang struck my forehead, sending a headache to my thoughts. The pain reminded me of what had happened just five minutes ago.

I had just walked in the door, sore from a longer-than-usual practice, when Jason had come out of nowhere, screaming about the annoying mess I was making by trekking mud everywhere in the kitchen. To my surprise, I really did make a mess in the kitchen coming home late last night. I was too tired and it was too dark to notice. 

Jason's fury led him to do what he was so used to doing when angry or stressed- using me as a scapegoat. He had grabbed both sides of my face as I sat there stunned, and forced my head in the direction of the mess. Then proceeded to slam my head onto the grab where the dried mud sat on the cold tile.

It took me an hour to clean it, and by the end of it, my forehead was sporting a sizable gash/knot, and I had to clean up my own blood while I was down there. 

I shivered lightly, the cold wind penetrating straight through my soaked sweatshirt. I really needed to go. My mind immediately went to one place. Or person, rather. 

Kacey Holt. 

I coughed, the action sending pain ricocheting through my barely healed ribs. My senses were being snubbed by the cold- at this point every intake of air felt like frostbite. So with shaking hands, I turned my phone on, not caring about the smudges on screen and going straight for the contacts. 

Kacey's number was one of the only saved contacts I had, other than my coaches'. 

I felt the phone vibrate in my hand as I brought it to my ear, barely able to hear the ringing emitting from it. I recognized her voice instantly, though. 

"What's up, Tyke." Soft, as always. She had probably just woken up, which I had a terrible habit of doing to her. 

"Sorry t-to wake you, Kace, but I need a f-favor."

"On my way." Her response was immediate, as usual, so I shut off the screen to tuck it into my jeans pocket.  

The park was only a five-minute walk from my house, but it felt like twenty. I had to slow my pace down because any faster and I could feel my ribs with each step, so I kept it to a stroll. Except this also sucked, considering it was still raining too fucking much. 

By the time I got there, I could see Kacey's mom's minivan parked in a lot overlooking the playground. Kacey had turned on the headlights (to look for me, I'm guessing) and had the window wipers working their hardest to combat the harsh wind and endless drizzle.