Baby Blue

But Its Just a Pin Prick

A high pitched yelp, followed by a sorrowful whimper echoes through the poorly lit basement, a young blonde who is curled up on the floor, is the obvious source of the noise. With her pinky in her mouth, and her eyes tearing up, she tosses a half sewn shirt down on the painted ceramic floor. After a moment of pitiful whimpering, she pops her finger out of her mouth to inspect the damage done. A small, but deep pin prick stands out on the pale pad of her finger, blood beginning to bubble up at the centre of the wound.
"Oh fuck.. I'll never get the hang of sewing!" She mutters to herself in barely a whisper before grabbing onto the arm of a couch to hoist herself up off the floor with her unharmed hand. With her eyes on her finger, she makes her way up the stairs and to the kitchen, ignoring the dishevelled young man who's seated at the table, keeping a close watch on her. In a normal situation, she'd be bounding over to him and hopping up into his lap, but her main focus right now is to make sure her finger stops bleeding.
Blood now trickles down the side of her finger, but the man doesn't seem to take notice of her minor ailment as he tosses a piece of his toast at her, missing by just a few inches. She waves him off with her other hand before turning the kitchen tap on, sticking her pinky under the chilled, running water. The man tosses another piece of toast at her, this time hitting the back of her leg, her short skirt offering no assistance in shielding the attacks. She glances at him over her shoulder and shakes her head, her brow furrowed and lips pursed.
"Keith! Don't do that! Can't you see I hurt myself??" She turns her back to him again as she massages the tip of her finger, flinching as she applies pressure to the spot the needle went into. His bushy brow raises as he stands, his eyes fixed on her back as he inches closer, worried about his blonde companion, but also curious about what could've happened.
"You alright, love?" He now peers over her shoulder as his arms snake around her waist, his chin gently resting at the base of her neck. His nose nuzzles against her neck, pulling her closer in a possessive manner, his fingertips gently digging into her waist. "Let me take care of you, Pammie..." He purrs into her ear as his wide eyes gaze up at her, his lips curling into a deviant smirk. In less than two seconds, Pamela has pushed Keith off and she's scowling in annoyance, now grabbing a paper tower to wrap around her finger. "Oh would you stop it! You have no pity! I'm hurt and all you can think about is sex?" Pamela's eyes well up with tears once more, her bottom lip now quivering at Keith's insensitivity. Before Keith can say anything in defence, Pamela has run off to the bathroom to find a bandaid, weeping the entire time.
"Oh c'mon, Pammie, don't do this!" Keith shouts as he bolts after her, sticking his foot in the door as she tries to close it on him. Despite her efforts to keep him out, he pushes his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Pamela folds her arms over her chest, staring at the ground with her bottom lip puffed out, a bandaid in one hand, and the bloody paper towel in the other. "Bloody hell, Pamela, what's goin' on?? Why'd ya feel the need t' run off like that?? All ya had to say was no.. Or preferably yes.. It's just a scratch! Put a bandaid on it and then get t' bed with me!" He reaches out and grabs her wrist, taking her dainty hand in his, and pulling the bandaids from her other hand. "But if you're not interested in that, at least let me help you..." He gently folds the bandage around her tiny finger, kissing the tip of it for good measure before he gives her a small reassuring smile. "All better?"
"Yes..."