Me & Her [gxg] | NOT EDITED

Nine

Yesterday was great. I felt so sick after being drunk. I have to work today.

Laying in bed is also nice. I wish I could do it all day. I check my phone. It says 1:00pm. Wait. What the? It's 1 in the afternoon!? My shift started a half an hour ago!

I listen to see if there is any noise. No obnoxious people's voices. Which means nobody else is here but me. They're all probably doing something. Hanging with boyfriends or girlfriends, working, or just going out with friends.

I hear a loud thud noise followed by Cameron's voice saying, "Fuck."

"Cameron?" I yell.

"Yeah?" He replies.

I get up out of my bed and walk to his bedroom.

"Yes? Can I help you with something?" He asks annoyed.

I take a look around his room. He's always doing something in here, but it's never messy. Like what the hell? How?!

What the hell? His mirror is half covered by a blanket but it's shattered.

"Cameron what did you do?" I ask indicating the mirror.

"I was angry," he mumbles.

I look around again for any more damage done. His hand is bleeding, but he's trying to cover it. He's also in just his boxers and some black basketball shorts. Which is new. He doesn't usually like it unless he's the only one in here. But I guess I didn't really give him a warning.

"Can I take a look. There could be glass. I don't want it to get worse," I say pointing to his hand.

"I think I'm okay. It's small," he says.

"Please," I say.

"Fine," he says and rolls his eyes.

He takes his hand off of his other. Revealing lots of blood and a few huge cuts on his knuckle.

"Jesus Christ Cameron," I say.

"It's nothing," he says.

"Yeah that's something," I say, "Does it hurt?"

"Don't know. I don't really feel anything," he shrugs.

"Move your hand," I say.

This could really be serious. He could have done quite some damage to his hand.

He "moves" his hand. But it's more of just a twitch.

"Cameron. Get a shirt on. I'm taking you to the ER," I say.

"Wait. But why?" He asks grabbing a shirt with his left hand, the unharmed one.

"Because. That glass may have seriously damaged a nerve. I want to get it checked out, just in case," I say.

"Okay," he groans.

By now he's got a shirt on.

"C'mon," I say ushering him out of his room and to the car.

I hear him open the car door. I grab a paper towel from the counter of the kitchen and bring it to him.

"Huh?" He says.

"To slow down the bleeding," I acknowledge.