Stuck » h.s. (UNDER EDITING)

seven

The taxi driver glares at me when I step out for getting blood on his seat. You know what, I was almost killed. So he can take the stick out of his ass and have some compassion because I obviously didn't have a good night.

I make it a point to slam the door and his tires squeal as he pulls out of the parking lot.

As I near the girls' dorms, I can hear music thumping loudly. When I turn the corner, I see there's some sort of get together or party going on. My feat burn with every step I take and the gash on my head throbs. I'm such an idiot. They didn't do anything but leave a couple of bruises on my arms and I manage to slam my head into the side of a brick building. I guess it was shock or I almost fainted. I can't really remember.

The ground feels like shards of glass ripping and tearing into my skin as I walk, broken heels dangling in my hand. The blaring music makes my head throb even more and I'm beginning to worry I won't make it back to my dorm at the rate I'm going. My legs feel weak and my knees wobble while tears coat my cheeks. I know there's blood dripping down my face from the wound near my temple.

The palm of my hand finds the cool brick wall, and I let myself lean against it.

"Emma! Is that you?"

It hurts to open my eyes, but I knew I'd have to make it back to my dorm eventually. I was just hoping I wouldn't get noticed because that would involve answering questions. There's a familiar boy walking towards me, but I can't really make out who it is until he gets closer.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see it's just Blake from my Creative Writing class. I try to force a smile but it doesn't work.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asks in a worried tone.

"Yeah. Uh. Yeah. I'm fine," I stammer. I can tell he isn't convinced.

"Jesus, Emma. You have blood all over your face and neck! If you aren't comfortable telling me what happened, then you don't have to. But you do have to let me get you cleaned up. I can't just let you go like this."

The concern is clear in his eyes. He looks like a lost puppy staring at me like that. I sigh and nod.

*****

I sit on Blake's bed while he presses a damp cloth to my head. I wince at the contact and he gives me an apologetic smile. He continues to press it down lightly again and again, eventually having to grab another cloth and wet it with a water bottle. He cleans the blood from my face and hums a song.

Blake places a gauze on the gash and secures it with the medical tape. "That should help stop the bleeding," he tells me while handing me a t-shirt and some sweatpants. I give him a confused glance. "There's blood all over your dress and I don't need those anymore. I'll turn around. Swear I won't look."

I unzip the dress and shimmy out of it, letting it pool in a heap of fabric around my ankles. Blake's sweatpants are soft against my skin and the t-shirt smells like cologne.

I sit back down on his bed, beginning to feel light headed. "You can look now," I croak.

My eyes widen in surprise when I look down at my ankle and see the purplish color surrounding it and the raised skin. I must have done that when my heel broke in that hole. I didn't even feel it. Had to have been adrenaline.

Blake's eyes follow mine and then grow about the same size when he sees my ankle. "How did you even walk on that thing?" he asks me, grabbing an ACE bandage out of the first-aid kit.

I shrug as I watch him unwrap it. "I didn't even feel it. Must've been adrenaline rush," I say and he nods.

"Most likely."