Apples and Bananas

Chapter 1

Content Warning:

This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence, injury, and blood. It also includes scenes of physical and emotional trauma, descriptions of wounds and medical care, and strong language throughout. Themes of gang violence, near-death experiences, and strained relationships are present. There are mentions of choking, stabbing, and heavy emotional distress. (if I left anything out be sure to tell me!)

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Nene POV

Fuck. That was awful. I groaned as I stepped out of the car, my body aching like I'd been hit by a truck. Every movement set my muscles on fire, but it wasn't like I wasn't used to it. Cuts and bruises decorated me like badges of honor, though tonight, they just felt like more goddamn pain.

"Fuck."

I glanced over at Darnell. He was clutching his side where the blade had sunk into him. He was having a hard time getting out of the car, his face twisted in pain. I rushed over, grabbing him by the arm to help him out as gently as I could. Pico was still sitting in the driver's seat, his knuckles bone-white as they gripped the steering wheel. Blood trickled down his face, some of it dripping into his eye. He stared straight ahead, his gaze empty.

I opened my mouth to say something, but the words stuck in my throat. What could I even say? We'd all barely made it out alive. I walked Darnell to the door of our shitty apartment, fumbling for the key in my pocket. My hands were shaking, but I managed to pull it out and unlock the door. Behind me, I heard the car door slam shut and the faint click of the lock.

Once inside, I laid Darnell down on the stained, beaten-up couch flicking on a lamp before running off to grab the medkit.

The apartment door clicked shut again as I made my way down the hallway. I stepped into the bathroom, flicking on the light. Instantly, I wished I hadn't. My reflection was a mess. Blood was smeared across my face, and as I pulled down my collar, I saw the dark, ugly bruises forming around my throat from where that bastard had choked me. I winced, muttering another curse under my breath as I grabbed the medkit and turned off the light, escaping the sight of my own face.

Back in the living room, Pico was standing in front of the fridge, the door wide open as he stared blankly inside. His eyes were glazed over, lost somewhere far away. A pang of worry crept up on me, but I forced myself to focus. I knelt in front of Darnell, setting the kit down beside me.

"Okay, I'm gonna lift your shirt."

Darnell grunted in response, but when I pulled up the blood-soaked fabric, his teeth clenched, and he turned his head away. The wound was deep. Not the worst I'd seen, but this was bad enough.

"Is it bad?" he asked, his voice rough, but there was a hint of humor in it.

"Haven't you been stabbed enough times to tell?" I shot back, my tone a little sharper than I intended. I didn't mean to snap, but tonight had been brutal.

Darnell looked away, and I bit the inside of my cheek, regretting it. I cleaned the wound as carefully as I could, though every time I disinfected it, he hissed in pain.

"Stay fucking still, or I'll have to start over," I muttered, focusing on the stitches.

"You fucking baby," I teased, though my voice had softened slightly.