Why I Need You

Chapter Three

I glanced in the mirror once more and winced. Even after taking a long shower, I looked like crap. But there wasn't really anything I could do about it.

The soreness in my muscles was obviously invisible, and my clothes covered most of the bruises, but the gash on my forehead was not a pretty sight. The cut, which was shallow and only a couple inches long, had already scabbed over and covered in dried blood, but a surrounding bunch of purple bruises made it look fairly nasty. Traces of crusted blood were still in my hairline, spotting my golden blonde hair crimson. I glanced around for a way to hide it.

I stopped for a moment to think. Why am I trying to look nice? He's already seen what a wreck I was. But he obviously didn't care, since he brought me here anyways... If that's the case.

Behind empty coffee mugs on the counter was a black beanie. Perfect. I pulled it over my forehead gingerly, just past the wound, and it disappeared. I looked at my reflection once again, and felt pretty satisfied.

Of course, I had to put on the same filthy clothes as before. White t-shirt, jean jacket, and skinny jeans to match. The fact that the clothes were still damp in some places made me uncomfortable.

When I stepped back into the hallway, I noticed the open doorway opposite the bathroom was a tiny kitchen. Stepping over the threshold, I saw Patrick inside, cooking fried chicken on the stove. He looked relaxed and focused, stirring the meat with a spatula every so often. He had a soft sort of chin, it was round and... well, he practically had two. But not in a gross kind of way. Not at all. It was actually kind of innocently cute. Especially the way his plump lips were bowed upward naturally, like he was constantly pleased by what he was doing.

I stood in the doorway watching silently, and as he reached into the cupboard for a plate, his other hand knocked the frying pan off the stove. Hot grease and chicken thighs splattered onto the wooden floor.

"Fùck!!" Patrick shouted. "God dāmn it!"

Forget innocent. But he was still cute.

I decided this would be an acceptable time to make my presence known, so I rushed in. "Let me help," I said, bending over to pick up the chicken and carefully place it back in the pan. When I stood back up, I caught him looking.

Something rose up within me. Anger. Maybe it was disappointment. But I think it was a mixture of both.

I thought he could've been different. But only a few moments of looking at my backside proved differently.

I should've known.

Patrick blushed a deep shade of red and turned his face. "I- uh- wait, Kaolin-"

I didn't stop when he said my name. I was leaving. I should've known I couldn't stay with a man. They were all the same. I couldn't handle it.

It wasn't until I was back at the living room that I realized there was nowhere for me to go. I didn't know the way out of his apartment. I was back at square one.

I spun around to see a startled Patrick standing directly behind me. "What are you doing?" He asked, baffled.

"I'm leaving," I said shortly.

"But-" the hurt registered on his face. I felt only a momentary stab of guilt. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "I'll find somewhere."

"You won't have any place to go."

"What makes you so sure?" I countered, although what I was implying was a lie.

"I..." He rubbed the back of his neck contemplatively. "I don't know. Are you sure you want to leave?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes."