You Got The Wrong Number Kid

The Meeting

A/N: So, I'm bored, again, and I have nothing else to do. Granted it's like, 3 in the morning, and I probably should go to bed now, but still.

Stay calm Nat, stay calm, stay calm, stay FUCKING CALM! All you have to do is get to Peter's house, then help him with his wound. No biggy.

20 minutes later

I walk up to the address that Peter gave me and knock on the door. The door opens slightly to reveal a young boy, no older than 14. Wow, Peter is really small.

"Hello miss. How may I help you?" Peter asks.

"I'm here to help with your stab wound, remember?" I reply.

"What stab wound? I don't have a stab wound. Who are you? How did you know I have a stab wound?" He rambled.

I chuckle. "You literally texted me 20 minutes ago because you had a stab wound."

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. "Nattie?"

I grin. "Yep, it's me kid. How about we go inside and take care of your stab wound?"

He nods and lets me inside. Immediately, the stench of beer and alcohol hits me, but I travel onward. We get to Peter's room and I almost burst out laughing. This kid is a total dork. There are Star Wars posters everywhere, Lego's shoved in one corner, and lots of other weird geeky stuff. He pulls an advanced first aid kit out from under his bed.

"OK, where's the wound?" I ask calmly, even though I'm freaking out. 

Wait! Why am I freaking out!? I just met the kid.

"Right here," He rolls up his shorts and points to a cut. Actually, that's not a cut, that's a BIG cut.

"Holy shit it is a biggy," I mumble. (DEAR LORD CURSE MY DIRTY MIND!!!)   

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing, lets just get this sewn up."

After I sew up the wound, a thought came to my head.

"Wait a second, HOW DID YOU STAB YOUR SELF!?!?!?!?!?!?"

A/N 2: So, I'm going to bed. I can barely stay awake. 

Stay safe, stay healthy, stay in school, and black lives matter.