The Butcher

Part 2

It was such a horrific sight. She had a breathing mask over her mouth, an IV stuck in her arm, and bandages up and down from what I can see of her. I didn't know how to react to what was placed in front of me. I just stood there, staring as if it weren't real. I slowly walked over to the side of the bed. Her face was terribly bruised with several cuts here and there. She looked more fragile than ever. My aunt pulled up a chair for me to sit in. I sat down without taking my eyes off my mom. My eyes scanned her body to check for other injuries, but the only visible flesh was her neck to her head and her arms. Everything else was covered in cloth.

I softly placed my fingers on her hand. "What happened," my voice sounded weak. "The doctors say they got into a car accident," my aunt said quietly. I listened to the heart monitor. It was still going, but it was slow. I looked at my aunt who was standing behind me. My eyes started to fill with tears. She came over and hugged me tightly. Then, the tears started to flow. The more I cried, the louder my sobs got. It sounded like I was a 5 year old crying. I didn't like to cry in front of other people, because of this reason.

I took one last look at my mom before we went to my dad's room. The walk to my dads room seemed never ending, even though it was across and down the hallway a bit from my moms room. I slowed down just before entering the room. More fearful now, than entering my moms room before. I took a deep breath and stepped inside the room. This room was mirrored from the other room, so the bed was on the left side of the room, perpendicular to the wall. It looked like my dads injuries were worse than my moms. I quickly walked over to his bedside to check if my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. They're weren't. What I see is real.

His entire left arm was wrapped. He must have either broken his arm, or sprained something. White bandages were wrapped around his head so that they covered his left eye. There was a small circle of red just starting to seep to the top of the bandages. My dad also had a breathing mask over his mouth, as well as an IV placed on the inside of his arm where the bones met. Again, I listened to the heart monitor. It seemed almost as slow as my moms, maybe a little faster, but definitely not by much. I let the silent tears fall from my eyes as I took in the sight of my dad, and thought of my mom. I don't want this to be real. This isn't real.

"This isn't real," I whispered. I starred blankly at the floor. "What?" My aunt asked. "This isn't real," I repeated a little louder than last time. I broke my stare with the floor and brought my eyes up to my dad's being. I swiftly jumped out of my chair and tried to reach for the IV in my dad's left arm. "LORIE NO!" My aunt yelled right before she pulled me away with all her might. I struggle to get out of her grip. "THIS ISN'T REAL!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. The tears started to flow more heavily the more I tried to escape her arms. That's when two men came into the room and each took me by either arm.

Each of the yanked me from the room. All the sounds around me seemed to fade away and if everything was in slow motion. I tried to scream something, but it either didn't come out, or I couldn't hear myself. The more I struggled to get free, the more it hurt my arms. I took one last look at my aunt before the door closed. She had her hands covering my mouth. She looked sorry for me because I think she was crying. Why wasn't she doing anything about this? She opened her mouth to say something, but the door took its place and I didn't see her anymore.

I was kicked out of the hospital for 'Inappropriate behavior.' I fixed my clothing before I got in my car and drove off. My face was still wet with tears and my eyes stung. I bet my eyes were really red. I drove to the local coffee shop. I tried to fix my appearance before entering the building. My eyes were still red, because I couldn't really do anything about that. Despite what my eyes looked like, I walked into the building. There was a short line, but it went by fast. I ordered my usual, and stood by a boy against the wall, in the back, to wait for my drink.

I noticed the boy next to me was looking at me. I thought he was looking at my eyes, so I turned my head away. I checked to see if he was still staring, he was. I looked down feeling embarrassed. "I like your eye color... But why are they red?" A voice asked. It sounded deep and a little raspy. I turned my head towards to the boy's attention. It was him who asked the question, he looked like he was waiting for an answer to a waiting question. "Oh thanks, and it's nothing," I replied looking down. I looked back up at his ice blue eyes that looked a bit saddened.

"No it's okay! You can tell me," he said raising his eyebrows a little. I took notice in his height. He was practically an entire foot taller than me. "It's just my parents," I said to him. "Are they fighting? If they are I'm so sorry!" He said furrowing his eyebrows. His hair was this shade of blood red and it was styled messy. "No they're not fighting," I laughed. My smile faded at the thought of their current states. I shook my head, "I would rather have them fighting though." My eyes darted to floor every time I spoke. I looked back up at him for what I hoped would be the last time. I trained my eyes to stay on his, or at least him. I saw he had a black eyebrow piercing on his left eyebrow. He also had regular black piercings in his ear lobes.

His shoulders looked slack when he was standing up. He looked at me with puppy-like eyes now. "Is everything alright?" He asked. He had an Australian accent. "Um, no not really," I said pursing my lips. My eyes scanned over his body one last time. He was wearing a black Metallica shirt, black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees only, and a pair of black Vans. And his skin color was pale. "Aw, well I'm sorry that you have to deal with whatever you're going through," he said snapping me out of my gaze. "I don't believe I've introduced myself yet. My name's Michael," he said smiling with his hand stuck out.