High Buns, Suitcases and Cigars

High Buns Suitcases and Cigars | 5

•05•

"Everything was eternally dreary, dismal, damned. Even the weather was insolent and bitchy"

-Charles Bukowski

I got up once again to check on the girl. For what? I don't know why - maybe because now the possibilty of her being injured made the feelings of guilt stir in my stomach - but I got up and looked out the window to see her still laying on the ground.

A crack of lightning flashed, illuminating her body. That's when I saw the red on her hands. On her thighs. Almost everygoddamn where.

Blood.

She was bleeding, and heavily. She needed me now. I was the only person to help her. As much as I didn't want to, I went and helped her.

I stepped out into the insolent thunderstorm, shielding my face from the angry drops of rain.

A clap of thunder. Then lightning.

The girl let out a loud sob, loud enough to be heard over the wind and rain.

Another flash of lightning.

I saw her body shaking violently, as if she was in an earthquake only she could feel. Surprisngly, I felt no remorse for the girl. Not even a hint of sadness.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I took my time, letting her cry. Shuffling towards her, I kicked puddles of rain every now and then. The wind gradually picked up so I wrapped my jacket tighter around me.

As I came closer to the girl, I saw that she had more blood then from before. It soaked the grass beneath her, tainting it a sickly red. Her upper thigh and hands were covered in it. Her skin was paler then from before. She looked lifeless.

I froze.

Lifeless.

My breathing became erratic as I clenched my fists tighter. She looked just like my-

NO!

I forced myself to kneel down next to her. I almost decided to leave her and run back to the house and forget about everything that's happened.

Almost.

I shook her slightly. "Hey, get up."

No response.

I shook her again, harder this time. "Hey! C'mon get up. I don't have time." My tone was harsher then before.

She lifted her head up and looked at me. Her eyes were bloodshot and teary. Streaks of tears were still fresh on her face. Pieces of hair were framing her face from her bun.

She continued to stare, not saying nothing.

What the hell is her problem?

I clenched my jaw, agitated. Could she hurry the fuck up and come on? Its raining, and I despised rain.

I stood and lifted my leg, aiming to kick her in her stomach. "Can you come the fuck on?!" I yelled. I was about to swing my foot, when she scrambled quickly to her knees.

She put her hands up as if she was surrendering. She started to cry uncontrollably, shaking as she started to splutter.

"I-I'm sorry! Please d-d-d-don't hurt me! God, don't kick me. I-I-I'm sorry. Pleasee!" She cried, looking at me. The immense fear she was feeling was evident in her eyes.

I glared at her. "Come on then." I turned and started to walk away, when I heard her call out.

"I-I can't walk. There's something in my leg." I turned to look her. She bit her lip and looked down, ready to cry.

I sighed and went back over to her. I kneeled down near her thigh, and saw a long piece of a wine bottle glass wedged nicely in her skin.

I groaned. She was going to need medical attention for this. I couldn't help her even if I wanted to.

Getting up, I picked her up under her knees and head. Bridal style.

She looked at me, wide-eyed. "W-what are you doing?"

I glared at her. "What the fuck do you think I'm doing? You can't walk, and that's in to deep for you to be putting pressure on it." Her fiesty side came out because she threw me a very menacing glare.

"You didn't have to be so rude."

My hands clenched around her legs, and she let out a scream. "Damn! Could you not do that?"

She was irritating me now.

"Fine, walk on your own then." With that I put her on her feet and walked away. She winced as she put weight on the injured leg. I heard her whisper 'god this hurts' as she limped behind me.

I grimaced as we walked through the rain. The sounds of her occasional whimpering were becoming quite annoying.

After awhile I couldn't take it and turned and snapped at her.

"Shut the hell up!"

She stood, stunned.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. Turning, I muttered for her to come on and walked towards the house.

My mind was racing with guilt and anger at the same time. Why the hell couldn't I be nice for once?

Why was I such an asshole?

Author's Note: Rowen rowen rowen you son of a hickey.