Midnight in Chicago

Chapter 2

Chessy blinked at him.

Should she tell him the truth?

"I-- uh"

He stared at her impatiently. Stalling clearly would not work.

"They're on a-- a business trip"

Lame, right?

His eyes bored into hers, absolutely not buying it. She was not about to pour out her heart and soul to some run of the mill sorta criminal though, so he would have to settle for it.

Her defiant stare met his imploring one, and for a moment she was lost in the depths of his dark brown eyes.

Somehow, he seemed to find this answer satisfactory. He spun around and continued in his hurried task of dragging her to the next room.

She quickly snapped out of her trance as soon as she saw the kitchen.

It was like a rat on coke had tried to make cookies. On the worn counter sat three opened bags of sugar and different amounts measured into four separate bowls. Some had a couple eggs mixed in, some not. A fifth bowl was turned over with it's contents of likely straight up egg and sugar smeared all over the floor.

Here was where it got weird. Scattered around the grave of the odd concoction was the broken remnants of porcelain. And a lot of it. Chessy recognized it immediately as her grandma's prized porcelain plates, normally kept on the highest shelf.

Also, judging from the dark stains, there was blood. As in, a concerning amount.

It looked like the goddamn apocalypse.

One thing at a time.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

"Alright dumbass, where did you hurt yourself?"

Pouting like a child, the offender gestured to his leg.

Which just so happened to be leaving a faint trail across the floor as it sluggishly bled.

All. Over. Her. House.

Chessy muttered angrily to herself, completely forgetting the fear she was consumed by not two minutes ago. Pulling him to the table, she sat him down as she went to fetch the first aid kit.

Her eyes never once strayed from the drips of blood leading like a trail of breadcumbs back to her bedroom. From experience she knew it would take a long time to get it out. At least the last bit of her grandmother she had left went out fighting.

When she returned to the table she sat down mechanically and began to clean his leg.

A stiff silence shrouded them as she quietly fumed. All she had wanted was a full night of rest for school tomorrow and this is what she got? A fucking idiot that broke into her house, made a huge mess, and destroyed her only remaining tie to her family name?

"Y'know you don't have to do this, right?"

Chessy looked up at him, surprised that he dared to exist in this moment of her rage.

"Shut the hell up, dumbass", She muttered, turning back to her work. She may hate him, but she would only hate herself as well if she left him to bleed.

"Stop calling me that"

"What? Dumbass?"

"Yes! That!"

"What would you prefer I call you?"

"How about... Dwayne?"

She looked back up at him and gave him a blank stare.