F R O Z E N F I N G E R T I P S
*
Marco had begun storing bags of ice in a freezer downstairs since I started playing with my fists. Zane wasn't impressed of how I beat myself down, neither were Daniel or Alex who I consistently boxed with.
The person the least impressed, however, was Brandy. Seeing my bruised and bloody body the morning after another fight, she took me home.
Marco was confused as he shook her hand, the smile on her face one he hadn't seen from a 'friend' of mine. He had met the three men I boxed with, but he had never met a girl who shone as brightly as Brandy did in my presence.
He allowed her to run me an ice bath, and both managed to get me in with little force.
Marco was curious as to who Brandy was, of course, but decided that would take time, and this time - when I was bloody and bruised - wasn't right. He could wait.
Brandy stayed by me, monitoring my pounding head and making jokes I didn't quite get or found hilarious.
"Have you ever tried to drown yourself?" I asked, the familiar feeling of water beginning to overcome my senses pushing into my mind.
She smiled softly, running her fingertips over the surface of the water a small wake forming from her gentle touch, "Yeah, once. Just to see."
I scoffed, looking back at the icy water, "What's there to see?"
"What it's like to not breathe." She shook her head, retracting her fingers from the cold water as if it burned her, "I didn't like it very much. It hurt more than I bargained for."
I raised an eyebrow as I met her eyes, the hazel warmer than hot water, "It hurt?" I turned away as soon as I saw the emptiness that seemed to me hazing in and out of them, unable to meet her eyes with unwarranted guilt flooding into my system, "All you were doing was holding your breath."
"And I could see everything I've ever done clearer than I ever could, and I realised how much I still hadn't done."
"Is that why you're so adamant on stopping me from dying?"
She wrung her fingers together, shaking her head with a slight curve to her lips, "No."
"You ever going to tell me?"
She lifted her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she smiled, "No, I don't think so."
"Why?"
"Do I need a motive as to why I don't want you to kill yourself?"
"I guess."
"Christian..." She cursed softly underneath her breath, taking my cold hand and staring into my eyes. The warmth of her own hand sent sparks of electricity through my veins like live wires, "People are allowed to want other people to live."
YOU ARE READING
His Nepenthe | complete
Teen Fictionnepenthe nɪˈpɛnθiːz/ noun something that can make you forget grief or suffering. * Everyone needs something to take the pain away every so often, and for him, that was her. copyright 2020