Hellcat

Chapter Eighteen

When I arrived at Matt's apartment, the door was unlocked. The whole room was dark and as I looked around the space, I saw Matt asleep on the couch. Curled up on his side, arms tucked close to his chest, he slept peacefully. His face was bruised and cut up, but I saw a child-like innocence on his features. Glancing at his feet, I noticed something that made me smile – the ankles of his sweatpants were tucked into thick wool socks.

Sighing to myself, I went to Matt's kitchen and checked his fridge. Nothing. Did I have to go grocery shopping for him or was he going to live off of the Thai place just down the block? He didn't even have milk. I shook my head as I stared into the empty fridge. And by empty, I mean he had beer – and mayonnaise for some reason.

A sudden inhale caught my attention. And I stood straight, eyes locking on the back of the couch. "Allison?" Matt's groggy voice called out in confusion. A ghost smile tugged at my lips. "How'd you know it was me?" I asked him, keeping my voice low. "Your mango bodywash," he said before I heard a grunt.

Concern filled me as I rushed towards the couch to find him trying to shove himself into a sitting position. "Don't do that. You need to rest," I chastised him, my frown replacing the tiny smile. Matt scoffed. "I haven't been off this couch more than once since I woke up," he said, teeth gritted from the pain. Finally, he settled back against the couch with a sigh of relief.

I couldn't stop frowning as I sat on the edge of the coffee table. "Matty," I muttered softly, grimacing at the damage on his face. The cuts weren't too deep, but he had a large, purple bruise under his eye accompanied by dark circles. "Is it your turn to tell me off?" he grumbled. As I looked closer, I saw his sightless eyes were a little red at the corners, as were his cheeks. Foggy must have laid it on him good.

"I don't know, do I have to? After spending all day with Foggy, I'm sure you're tired of it," I told him. Somehow, as I spoke, my voice grew an edge. One of stress, and anger, and... fear. "Thank you," Matt muttered softly to me. Sighing, I placed my head in my hands, just thinking. The silence was welcome for me, but I doubted it was for Matt.

I thought about today – about taking a walk down memory lane and getting lost for hours at a time. About all of the good times I had with Matt when we were young. About all of the time we had together now. About how I couldn't see tomorrow without him in it.

"You're an asshole," I finally growled, anger bubbling up in my chest to hide the aching fear inside. Matt raised an eyebrow at me, his blank eyes turned in my general direction. "You promised me you would be careful. And guess what? You weren't careful. You nearly got yourself killed!" I snapped at him. His blind gaze turned down, but he remained silent.

"Do you know how terrifying it is to see your best friend bleeding, unconscious, and dying?" I couldn't help but ask, my voice shrill. "No, not see. But I know," he said, lifting his head towards me. "You do remember showing up in my office with a stab wound, right?" he asked me, raising an eyebrow. I shot him a glare. "Seriously, Matt? I was stabbed once, you have, like, twelve stab wounds!" I shouted at him, standing from the coffee table.

Sighing, I flopped back down on the table. We sat in silence for a long tense moment. I thought back to earlier, going through those old pictures and reliving those memories of Matt. life had been good before. When I was young, I had wanted more from my life than what I had become. I had wanted a house and a family, and even a dog. I had wanted so much more than to be a killer.

"Allison," Matt muttered, breaking the silence. Pulling myself back to the here and now, I glanced up at him, humming softly in acknowledgement. "You want to say something, I know you do. So, just say it," he told me softly. I could hear the sadness in his voice – the disappointment in himself. His permission pulled the words from my mouth before I could even think to stop them.