Grayson's Body

Metal

Chapter 31: Metal

Metal

[met-l]

EXAMPLES|WORD ORIGIN

noun

any of a class of elementary substances, as gold, silver, or copper, all of which are crystalline when solid and many of which are characterized by opacity, ductility, conductivity, and a unique luster when freshly fractured.

1. such a substance in its pure state, as distinguished from alloys.

2. an element yielding positively charged ions in aqueous solutions of its salts.

His hands were gasping the hard metal of the pole, and he stared down at it, completely stunned. There was a rumble somewhere in the distance, and a flash of lightning caught the sky ablaze for a moment. I could see it being reflected against the filthy tile floor though the grimy pool room windows. There was one drop of hot red blood, and then another. It was leaking against his stomach, and then his crotch, and then his thighs. He was wearing black, though, so you couldn't see it. I could sure see how wet it looked, though. It was leaking at the bottom, on his foot. It was on the floor now.

"Wow, ow," he whispered, and I stared at him. He was looking at me in shock, his eyes going down to the metal that was currently embedded in his hard abs again. It was going straight through, sticking out on the other side.

Out of his back.

I couldn't believe that I had actually done it.

I was staring.

I stared because he had a pole clearly cut through his body, like it was made of butter, and I had just ran a massive metal toothpick through it. I tightened my hands around the hilt of it and watched as he blinked once and then twice.

His hands were shaking and red, sticky. He looked so pale then, like I really had wounded him. I took a hard step back and let go as he yanked at it. It slid back through his body painfully slow, and he grimaced, bearing his teeth, and he held it in his hard-bloody hand. It was out. It was slick with blood. I stared at the glaring rip, the glaring hole of bloody tissue in his abdomen.

"Okay," he breathed out slowly, and dropped the pole onto the ground, "I get it."

It made a harsh, startling sound as it hit the tile and bounced once.

His large, shaking hands went to the wound, and I could see his bottom lip tremble slightly. I covered my mouth with my hand.

"You're not needy," he stated, nodding.

I gasped as I stared at the blood that was pouring in between his fingers as he pressed his hand against it. He stumbled but caught his balance. His eyes went to mine again. I took another tentative step away from him, my feet hard on the slick tile.

"Got a tampon?" He asked, blatantly.

I shook my head.

"I thought I'd ask," he said quietly, smirking, and he moved.

It was away from me.

He didn't say another word.

He was walking, flinching as he moved, shuffling. He looked like a zombie, his face forming into one of pain and discomfort, and wanting to leave. I stared after him.

He was making his way around the tile, around the pool, and my legs twitched. He glanced back at me for a moment, and I could see his own blood was on his lips, running down the corner of his hard mouth.