Rochdale | LGBTQ+

.Twenty Six.

I slumped against the couch. I was exhausted. Three little kids running around, nobody to help me watch them, my boyfriend was being held hostage by a psycho bitch that threw rocks at lil' girls, and there were no more instant noodles left in the cupboard.

I turned on the TV. The kids might be brain rotting at this point but at least it kept them quiet and distracted. I had set up the crib Libby used to sleep in down in the living room for Finny, and gave Libby the mattress I had on my bottom bunk. Libby said it smelled like my cologne, and said it helped her sleep. Sweetest thing I'd heard all week. 

Wynnie's birthday was also coming up. She'd be five. Which meant next year, it was off to preschool for her. She'd learn to count, how to read, how to write her name. Damn it, stop growing! All of you! I wanted to shout.

Sirens sounded, pretty close  by. There was a thud upstairs. I jolted upright. The girls hadn't heard it. I put two and two together. The police were after someone, and that someone just climbed through one of our second story windows. 

"Hey girls, can you hold this for me?" I asked, handing them the baseball bat we kept by the staircase. Libby nodded and took it. Then her little brows furrowed and she whipped her head around to stare at me, her gaze a question. I imitated a baseball swing, and held a finger to my lips. She nodded. She reached out and turned down the volume on the TV. 

I grabbed the kitchen knife and made my way up the stairs, keeping my back pressed against the wall. I clutched the handle in one hand, and kept my other hand out to steady me on the railing. 

"Hello? Anyone there?" I called. It wouldn't be the first time someone we knew snuck in to hide from the fuzz. But there was no reply. My heartbeat quickened. I paused then, listening for footsteps or any sort of scuffling, making sure they weren't sneaking down the other steps to get to the girls.

My door swung open, and someone walked out. I lunged forward, knife raised, and nearly plunged the blade into Lucas's chest. I fell backwards, gasping. I dropped the knife and I wrapped my arms around him. "I'm so glad its you!" I exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing sneaking around? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to scare you," Lucas whispered.

I looked out the hallway window, and saw the flashing lights. "What. The. Hell."

"Samantha is dead."

I whipped around. I stared at him. "You're fucking with me. You're fucking me. With me. Er, you get what I mean!"

Lucas shook his head. "It was self-defense. She pulled a gun on me..."

"What?! Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

That's when I saw the bloody trail behind him. I gaped as he lifted his shirt, revealing a mangled mess of gleaming bullet shards and twisted skin. He winced when he took a step towards me. I covered my mouth with my hand. "Oh my fuck. We need to get you to a doctor. Now."

"The police will find me there."

"Are you serious? Is Samantha actually dead?"

I stabbed her six times in the chest," he whispered. 

"Okay, so most likely dead. Let's go downstairs. We need to bandage you and the first aid kit is above the sink."

"She got so mad at me," he whimpered. "I told her I was sick of her. I said that I loved you, and that if she wanted to tell my dad that I was a cock lover than she could go ahead and do it. That's when she pulled the gun on me. My cousins tried to help me, I don't know what happened to them."

"You ran three blocks with a bullet in you?" I exclaimed, helping him limp down the staircase. "If this bullet don't kill you, I will for being so stupid. Why didn't you wait for the police to show up and take you to a doctor?"

He shook his head slowly. "No... police..." His eyelids were drooping.

"Oh hell no you are not dying! Not in front of the littles!" I grunted, shifting his weight to the side I was supporting and dragging him down the stairs. 

"Libs!" I yelled. "Hop up on the sink and grab the first aid kit!"

I heard footsteps disappear. No questions asked. Good girl, I thought. 

I laid him down on the couch, blood spilling out of the wound. I didn't know what todo. I took off my shirt and began pressing it against the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. Wynnie watched wide-eyed.

"Finny is scared, you need to be brave for Finny, okay?" I told her. She nodded, and hurried over to the crib where her new brother was crying. 

Libs returned with the bright red kit and handed it to me. I opened it up and pulled out the bandages, just as someone pounded on the door. I saw the flashing lights through the window. "Libby, go open it. If it's an officer, tell him we need help. If not, tell them to fuck off."

Libby blinked. She scurried over to the door and stood on tippy toes to reach the door handle. She turned it and swung open the door, and sure enough a man in uniform stood outside. "Uhm... hello?" he asked, confused by the sight of Libby hanging on the door.

"In here!" I yelled.

Libby snapped out of her trance. "We need help!" she said seriously, pointing into the living room. The police officer nodded stiffly and rushed in, and soon two other officers followed suit. They made their way over to the couch and took in the scene before them. "Sir, do you own this house?"

I shook my head. "N-No. My father's name is on the papers, Greg Barker. My sister and I pay the bills and the mortgage. Penny and Cory Barker. I'm Cory. This is Lucas, Lucas Sampson. Please, help him!"

"Are you his friend?"

I didn't care anymore. "I'm his partner. Help him!"