Whitewashed

No Questions Asked

Chapter 12: No Questions Asked

There’s something wrong.

I can’t pinpoint it. My hip aches. My head aches. My- well my EVERYTHING aches.

Why? I think I was attacked, but I’m not sure.

My eyes refuse to open and my muscles feel too heavy.

Voices. I hear voices, but I can’t distinguish one from the other. Where am I? A mattress is beneath me. I know that much.

“I said step ASIDE. POGs told me to come over here- what is THIS?” a raspy voice asks, but it sounds like it’s coming from far away. ‘Tommo’ pops into my mind. A name? Yes. I think so. Who is he talking to?

“You told me to train her and she failed. What more do you want?” someone else replies a little tartly. The word ‘Dimples’ comes to me next. Dimples. Haz? Yes. Haz.

That’s his voice. He is my friend- no. He’s not. He’s the reason I’m like this. That’s right.

“I wanted you to TRAIN her, not beat her unconscious! I’m trying to save your hide in the long run. Stop this stupid act and recognize that I’m trying to HELP you, you prick headed dimwit,” Tommo shouts, making my ears ring momentarily.

Her. They’re talking about me?

It’s as if they’re speaking to each other and I’m listening from the other side of somewhere large, like a warehouse. Warehouse. That’s where I am right now. But which one? Logically, I know they must be close, but I’m losing their words like trying to hold water.

I can’t hear half of Haz’s reply, but his tone changes, “…not like I wanted this. I didn’t want to train her in the first place! I TOLD you it would be dangerous-”

He doesn’t say this with venom or a victim mentality. He says it like he’s apologizing.

“Are you FUCKING kidding me?! What did you DO?” Tommo’s voice echoes around my mind, but it has whatever the audio equivalent is of being blurry.

“I lost it,” Haz mumbles in response. “I- I don’t know. I just got so… angry.”

“Well fan-fucking-tastic. Now what are we going to do? What if she dies?”

“Oh god, please don’t say that,” Haz whispers, voice cracking.

There is a small pause before Tommo responds, tone chilled to the very core, “This is your mess. I’m not cleaning it up this time.”

Cleaning up? This time?

“Honeybee, please wake up,” Haz’s voice is soft, so much so that the sound of footsteps in the background almost completely obscures his words.

No. I don’t want to wake up.

I am in some sort of world between unconsciousness and wakefulness. I like it here. There’s nothing expected of me, but I can think whatever I want.

My companion continues, “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I was just so upset.”

Don’t you dare blame this on me.

“Not at you, at myself,” it is as if he hears my thoughts. “After we kissed and you… told me the truth, I didn’t know what to do. It’s no excuse, but there it is.”

That’s still not reason enough for you to beat me unconscious.

“You have to understand that you lied to me. I thought we told each other everything- wait. No I haven’t told you ANYTHING,” he stops, sighing. I can imagine him running his fingers through his thick curls.