Brace For It.

Chapter 6

Undeniably the worst time for the end of the world. No dentists were able to stay open out of fear. She moved to the next town. None. Then the next.

A few hours later, she stopped to stretch her legs. She took a walk through a park. She heard shouting, anger, though, not fear. She walked over, conserving energy, and saw a couple of guys fighting. She rolled her eyes but then one pulled out a knife.

She ran over, "hey, knock it off! Leave him alone!"

"Just stay away," he growled. She ran in between them.

"Move or you'll go before him."

The other guy spoke, "are you crazy?! Get!" She ignored him. "I said get!" he said, pushing her. The guy with a knife advanced on the other. She scrambled away and closed her eyes, covering them for good measure. She heard a scream and squeezed her eyes tighter. She heard a body hit the ground and groaning.

"Hey," the guy without the knife said. She opened her eyes and saw the other one on the ground. The knife was nowhere to be seen. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah. I skinned my palms, though." He helped her up.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

"How can I trust you? Where's the knife?"

"You can't. It's in my jacket pocket."

"Give it to me."

"I won't-"

"Give it to me!"

"Alright, alright. I'll drop it and back up. You seem really serious...and really scared." He did as he said he would and she scrambled for it, putting it in her book bag. "C'mon, you need cleaned up."

"I won't leave my car here."

"There's an obvious solution."

"I'm driving."

"You don't know where the nearest drugstore is."

"Give me directions."

"At least tell me your name. I'm Simon."

"I'm M-Melissa."

"I know you're lying.

"I'm nineteen."

"Lies."

"I'm seventeen."

"Maybe I'm eighteen."

"Okay, Melissa."

She took Band-Aids and antiseptic. He took floss and a sewing kit. He said something about emergencies. He started giving her more directions.

"This is my house. My mom and dad were on a business trip. I doubt they'll come back." He grabbed the bags. "Well, come in."

"The whole 'my parents aren't home' cliché won't work."

"I was just wanting to help get you fixed up."

Which was how she ended up sitting on his bathroom sink. He was putting antiseptic on her palms (she didn't say so, but it burned). After putting Band-Aids on, she noticed a dark, sticky splotch on his black shirt.

"What is that?"

"Nothing."

She put a finger on his chest lightly. Blood came off. She remembered a scream.

"He stabbed you."

"It's nothing, he barely got my skin." Without realizing it, she lifted his shirt up.

"Are you kidding? It's horrible!"

"I can take care of it."

"Get a wash cloth, peroxide, and something to put pressure on it with."

"I can take care of it."

"Shut up and do as I said!"

"Fine, whatever." He grabbed a washcloth and hand towel from a drawer and peroxide from under the sink. She wet the wash cloth down and wiped the blood away.

"Put this in your mouth," she said as she handed him the towel.

She was confused at first because it was spray on, but managed to get peroxide on his chest. He muttered a few profanities. It was pretty deep.

"Did it hurt when he stabbed you?"

"A lot."

"Why didn't you say anything about it?"

"I knew you'd do this."

"You need to go the a hospital."

"I can sew it up."

"Ew, how?"

"Floss and a needle."

"I'm not watching."

"Go to the kitchen and get something to eat."

"All right." She turned back to him, "the name's Mia."

"Mine actually is Simon."

Maybe life sucks, but at least I'm not alone.