Dead Men Walking

Alfred | Chapter 5 |

      In my hands I held the pair of socks the stranger gave me. I still didn't know his name despite him knowing mine. Well, I did exchange some of my information for the can of food, but I had no way to really address him if I decided to talk. I slid my shoes off and looked at the back of my feet, noticing the blisters I have received over the past weeks. They were... horrible to fucking look at, to say the least. A small shiver ran down my spine, and I looked up, watching the one who gave me socks sit in a chair. Would he have bandages? It was worth the try to ask. I slowly stood and walked over, tapping his knee. He opened an eye and looked up to me, a small frown replacing his previous expression.

      "What is it that you need now? I've already given you socks, food, what else?" His tone was awfully sour. That was to be expected, I had learned.

      "Bandages," I simply responded.

      "Why do you need bandages? Got a papercut?" He began to tease me, resting his head in his hands. When I raised his my foot up to show him the back of the heel, he audibly gagged. "Oh, bloody hell! Jesus, one second!" The man stood and rushed to a bag, frantically looking for the bandages. Once he pulled them out, he threw them over. "Cover that stuff up already!"

      I snort aloud, lowering myself to the ground to sit with my legs out. Once I unraveled some bandage, I ripped it off the roll and began to wrap it around my foot. Would this be the right time to ask his name? Surely he wouldn't mind, but he seemed to be in a pissy mood or state of mind at the moment. I looked up and lightly tapped tapped his leg with my other foot. "I wanna know your name," I say, "so I can address you properly."

      "Oh, now you show manners? Fine. My name is Arthur. That's all you need to know."

      "How about the other tw-"

      "You just wanted my name. It's not like we'll be around here much longer. You don't need to know." Arthur closes his eyes and draws in a breath of air. For a moment, I took in his features. Pale skin caked with dried dirt, purple bruises also along his arms. I feel a shiver run down my spine, so I extend my arms out to see if I have any bruises. Only one, a few inches before my wrist. I rubbed on it lightly to see if I could feel anything, and when I did, I only felt a minuscule amount of pain and pressure. It was certainly better than having my skin torn by one of those... things. My eyes close and I sigh softly. Sleep was all I needed, if I had to be honest.