The Fools of Remington Street

Chapter Forty Six- Ryn

I was standing on a tall brick building and the sun was almost rising. There was a street full of closed up shops and cafes below us.
I turned to see a familiar girl walk up next to me. I let out a mixed sound of sadness and surprise. My eyes filled with tears and I embraces her.
"Sadie." I croaked. I didn't know what else to say. The words were all flooding my brain.
Why?
How?
I can't believe you're alive! Who was it that killed you?
My stomach dropped as I watched in horror as she shoved my arms off of her body and walked slowly towards the edge of the building.
"Sadie. . ." I widened my eyes in shock as I saw her jump and she went plummeting to the ground.

A hand rested on my shoulder and I bolted up on the couch and let out a raspy shriek.

I thrashed and scrambled off of the couch as two hands grabbed my arms. My body hit the floor-hard and I let out a cry of pain as the hands tightened. I felt the invisible hands move to my neck. It began to tighten and my breath restricted. I pushed at nothing but air. There was no one to push off. I choked out a quiet sob and the hands suddenly let go and I ran into the bathroom.

My neck had dark bruise marks covering them- as if I where some Dalmatian hybrid.

I self-consciously lifted my hoodie so it would hide the dark marks and I broke into tears, hiccuping and gasping.

I was a mess as I walked, trembling, out of the bathroom. I bumped into a table that held a big glass bowl and ended up knocking it onto the floor. It shattered loudly. I quickly dropped to my knees and tried to pick up every individual piece of glass. I watched as every single shard cut my hands open and it only took a matter of time to realize that my foot had a massive gash on it too.

I squinted in the dimly lit light as I heard a door slide open. It was Isaac and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment at my current situation. Tears were streaming in silent rivers down my cheeks and my hands and feet were bleeding.

As he got closer to me, I was expecting him to help me pick up the shards, but no. He picked me up like a baby- one hand under my knees; one under my back- and set me down on the counter in the bathroom. He had some crazy bed head and wore a wrinkled up navy blue t-shirt.

Isaac then washed out the blood, which stung, and set me down on the rim of the bathtub. He ran hot water and slowly let my bloody feet soak in it as he tended to my hands with a wet cloth.

He left the bathroom only to come back moments later with a medical kit in hand. He grabbed a bunch of tools and threads and lifted my damaged foot out of the water. He was stitching it back together.

Suddenly, that urgent panic I had felt in my body had died down and I was left with a calm, relaxing feeling.

He finished the stitches and I winced as he roughly grabbed my hands. He noticed my pain and discomfort and lightly wrapped a bandage around it until it mimicked a cast.

I couldn't muster any words as he picked me up for the third time and carefully placed me onto the couch. He turned back to the bathroom, getting everything back in order, and walked out again.

I felt a deep pang in my chest as I watched him walk to his room, only to glance back at me with a concerned look, then look away and retreat to his bed.