Keep Me Holy

Chapter Nineteen- Babysitters

I slowly open my eyes and sit up, suddenly bombarded by sunlight. "God Damn sun.." I mumble. After I close the curtains, I walk into the bathroom, getting ready to take a shower. Once the waters warm enough, I hop in and start to hum a song.

'Pour me somethin' stronger

Pour me somethin' dark

Pour it up so high,

Till I can feel my heart

I can barely stand it,

I can hardly breathe,

Pour me somethin' stronger than me

Pour me somethin' stronger than me'

After five minutes, I start to wash my body. Thats when I notice the large cut on my forearm. And the one on my shoulder. "What the hell!" I yell, pissing myself off for some odd reason.

-10 minutes later-

I'm out of the shower, looking through my songs when I notice the odd silence in the house. I shrug my shoulders and turn on Lana Del Rey.

'You, said I was, the most exotic flower

Holding me tight, in our final hour

I don't know how you,

Convince them,

And get them,

Boy,

I don't know what you do

It's unbelievable,

And I don't how you, get over,

Get over,

Someone as dangerous,

Tainted

And flawed as you'

I walk out and back into my room, throwing my clothes on the bed.

"Hello kitten." Crowley says from nowhere.

I jump and drop my phone on the floor. "Jesus Christ! Can you please NOT scare me?" I turn and yell at him.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He throws his hands up. "Just decided to pop by, you know."

"Well, I understand that. But it's only been, like, three weeks since we've seen each other." I pick my phone up off the floor.

"Kitten, it's November fifth." he crosses his arms.

"No, it's the first." I say. That's when I realize and up lift up my sleeve.

"Oh my- what happened?!" Crowley quickly walks over and softly grabs my arm.

"Dicks party." I look up at him.

He looks up at me, then back at the my cut. "You've been out for almost three or four four days."

"WHAT?!" I yell.

"How many cuts do you have?" He stands back a little.

"Um, three I believe." I say as I pull down the part by my shoulder.

He walks over and examines it, gently gliding over it with his finger tips. "Where else?"

"Right here." I point to the side of my head. "What I want to know is why does it have to do with how many days I've been 'out'?"

He steps of to the side of the room and pulls out his phone. "However much blood you lost depends on how many days you'll be out. You must've lost a lot." He dials a number. "One moment." he gives a fake smile and holds up a finger.