Bray stood there in place as he watched Atticus groan in pain, shattered pieces of glass scattered around the floor. His brain was having trouble processing what was going on in front of him. The muscle in his hand began fading back into those dark memories once more until a moan pulled him back to the present.
"Tic, holy fuck." Bray exclaimed, the panic finally settling into the depths of his stomach. He grabbed the man's hand and attempted to pull him up.
"Cmon man, you gotta work with me. You're a lot bigger than I am."
"Glass... stomach." Atticus' voice brokenly said, him gesturing towards the pillow that sat gently on his stomach. Bray gulped and moved the pillow off of him, causing the blunt object lodged into his lower stomach to shift slightly. That slight shift must've been more painful than Bray would of thought, because his counterpart let out a blood-curdling scream.
"Holy fuck Atticus." Bray panicked. He stood up quickly and rapidly looking around the room, hoping the object that he thought of would just magically appear in front of him.
"Tic oh my god, where's your phone. Please where is you—" Bray let out an alarmed whimper when he looked back, seeing Atticus' eyes closed completely.
"Fuck, shit, oh gosh." He yelled out multiple profanities as he ran around the house, frantically looking for anything he could call the police with. When he barged into the kitchen, he saw the golden machine sitting casually on the wall—a corded house phone. Running towards the object, he picked it up harshly and pressed it against his ear. Shaky fingers began hitting the sacred buttons—911—a feeling of dread consuming him with every second the phone rang.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"My friend! H—uhm—he fell onto the glass table and I don't—," he paused and looked back over to an unconscious Atticus, "Fuck, he's not moving." Bray could feel the hot tears running down his face as his panic grew bigger and bigger.
"Sir, I need you to calm down and tell me the state of your emergency." the 911 operator boredly recited to Bray once more.
"Fuck you! I'm freaking out because my—," he took a deep breath, "My friend, his name is Atticus. H-he fell through the table and now he has a fucking glass shard in his goddamn stomach." Bray yelled the last part of his sentence as he paced around Atticus' small kitchen.
"Okay. What is the address you are currently at sir?"
Bray stopped pacing as his brain felt like it was stuttering. Address? He doesn't know the address. He just remembers finding a random house after the car incident.
"I uh, I don't know. This is my first time being here, he was my ride here." Bray quietly, but firmly, stated his lie to the lady on the other end of the line.
"Can you go outside and tell me what you see? I may be able to recognize what area you are in off that alone."
Bray complied and walked over the window that was a little ways away from the phone. "I see a bunch of condos that are kinda clustered together. I'm on the upper-east side and I— I think there's a target around here somewhere."
He heard the lady hum, "I think I know where you're at, I'll also try to track your IP address just in case. Please be patient as I send help to your add—" that's all Bray needed to hear before hanging up the phone and running back to the unconscious man on the living room floor.
"Tic?" he asked, gently tapping Atticus' shoulder.
"Atticus."
"Atticus, please wake up. I don't like this." he said a little lighter as he shook Atticus' shoulder a little harder.
"At--Atti—" he tried calling out again, only to get interrupted by the sob that erupted out of him.
"I'm so sorry. I'm such a fuck up. I'm sorry." Bray sobbed into Atticus' shoulder as he waited for the paramedics to show up. It wasn't long before he heard sirens steadily approaching their general area.
"Tic, I gotta go. I can't let them see me or I'll be in so much fucking trouble. But I promise I— I'll be there before you wake up. I'll figure out a way I promise." Bray said to cold air, knowing that Atticus wasn't listening. More like he couldn't listen, not now at least.
He touched the skin around the blade, watching as the blood coated his finger. "You'll be okay. I haven't known you for very long at all, but I can tell you're a strong man. I— I know you can handle this."
Bray wasn't sure if he was talking to Atticus or trying to convince himself, but he let the words be known regardless.
And as the door was slammed into multiple times, Bray knew the help Atticus needed was trying to get in.
And as the front door came crashing down, the boy was gone like the wind. A silent promise of return swirling around the air.
A/N: Short, but very eventful chapter. I'll admit, a few tears were shed while writing this, but that's only because Atticus is basically my son.
On to the questions...
Thoughts on Bray?
Thoughts on Atticus' situation?
Do you think Bray will keep his promise and return?
Do you think Atticus will be okay?
Make sure you vote and comment, that way I can interact with you beautiful people! :)
YOU ARE READING
Ace of Spades
Adventure"I'm not deranged, I just don't tolerate bullshit." In which, Bray is an ex-convict that may have gotten himself into trouble once more. Atticus is an artist that has ran into a little bit of turmoil with his work. What happens when the two cross p...
