Caught in the Blaze

Ragdoll

4

Amber paced the small length of her tiny room, her body burning, her skin itching, her throat swelling. Outside the heat from the valley had sucked in fog around the coast, and the usual scene of Cyprus trees was blocked by a thick grey mist.

But Amber was hardly concerned with that. She paused in front of the mirror, glancing at her hideous face. An ugly black bruise coated her eye like badly done make-up, and she struggled to keep in mind that she didn't deserve the hit she had received. Her face looked grey, her body thin and frail, and her usually shiny hair looked dull and dark.

She reached up and grasped her scalp, curling in on herself upon the bare floor. A frustrated cry threatened to break free in the silence, but she swallowed it as if she were swallowing her own bile.

Three days. Three mother fucking days. She crawled over to her bed, looking underneath-anything, anything, please. Nothing. Amber pulled at her hair, ignoring the strands that fell loose like burned ribbons.

The bathroom. She paced across the room, kicked open the door and swung open the cabinet. Aspirin, Tylenol, Neosporin. Amber growled, swiped a hand across the line of medicine and slammed the mirrored door closed as the sound of rattling bottles hit the cold linoleum floor. Her face appeared in the reflective surface. Black eye, ashy skin, sickly-she crunched her fist against the glass, pain cracking up her knuckles as the surface split, a cobweb of broken glass covering her reflection. Amber rinsed her hand in the sink, pink veins of blood and water trailed across the white tile bowl.

Back in her room, she dumped out her laundry, tossing shirts over her head, checking pockets in jeans and shorts and skirts. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Her movements increased in speed until she felt as if she were going mad. Last pair of pants, her hand slid inside the pocket, clenched around a tiny tablet.

Her body relaxed. Finally.

She felt better immediately, able to think, clear headed. She looked at her black eye in the mirror and decided it was worth it, picking up her phone she dialed Dylan's number, listening to the ring on the other line.

"Amber? Baby, is that you?" He answered immediately, his voice sounding relieved and worried.

"Yeah, it's me." She slid against the wall, closed her eyes. Her knuckles stung while she held the phone, but the pain was dull, barely even there. She wished she could feel it, she wished the pain would overtake her body and erase this numbness that threatened to drown her in her own dull mind.

"Thank God," He sighed, relieved. "Amber, you know I never meant to hurt you, I would never do that. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again, I promise. I was just-I was just stressed and being an asshole, and, and everything was just...you know me, I would never do that. I'm so sorry. Are you alright? Where are you?" She paused, pondering his apology. She remembered years ago as Rodger lay next to her, pulling on his clothes so he could sneak back into Randy's room.

"Isn't she mad at you?" Amber had asked, recalling the fight they had earlier in the afternoon, the bruise and cut on Randy's bone skinny face. He only sighed, turning back towards her on the bed. It was a small cot, it didn't fit both of them well, and Amber was sad and quiet about the sticky mess on her Batgirl comforter which she had just gotten from Tyler last time he visited. Amber sniffed, fresh tears staining her already salty cheeks. "You hit her," She had accused weakly.

Rodger just sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair, his naked torso exposed and sweaty. "I know I did, I'm sorry Amber." He leaned over and brushed away her tears with his hot thumb, his eyes sad, and now Amber wondered what exactly he was apologizing for. Hitting Randy? Or ruining her new bedspread with his filth?