PURITY

𝙏𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚

(Shawn's point of view)

My footsteps cause the stairs to creak as I make my way down the basement.

Earlier a loud thud echoed through the house making us all stop our conversations. Jim yelled at me to go downstairs and see if Joey's okay. Honestly, I'm sure he's fine but Jim would not stop nagging me.

My eyes adjust to the darkness of the room and I reach to turn another light on.
The basement has adopted the scent of acid and I scrunch my nose as I look down and see a pool of vomit on the floor and Joey laying in it. I run my hands through my hair. I'm not in the mood to dealing with Joey right now. Me and Corey were having a serious conversation about some songs he's been writing.

I kneel down in front of Joey and sigh as I poke the opposite cheek to the one laying in the vomit.

Joey doesn't wake up, he doesn't move at all.

I sigh as I notice three big bumps on his head. One from the first time I hit him, another from the second time and the last one appears to be from when he fell.
I step on the chair legs so that the chair springs back up. As soon as the chair gets back into place it starts to wobble. I go to catch it but I falls backwards causing Joey to hit his head again.

I rub my temples.

There is no way Joey is going to join our band now. In fact he probably won't be able to remember his own name if I continue to give him head injuries.

I pull the chair back up and set it down as gently as possible.
My eyes scan the floor and I sigh as I look at the puddle of vomit. I really wasn't planning on being a maid tonight.

I turn around with out giving Joey a second glance and head back up the stairs.
As soon as I enter the living room all
The guys stop and stare at me.

"What?" I ask as I look around.

"What do you mean what!? Is Joey okay?" Jim asks as he scratches his beard. His eyes burns holes into my skin and I huff as I walk towards the cleaning closet.

"He's fine. He just fell over, knocked himself out and threw up. I'm not sure what order he did those in," I sigh as I grab a bucket of cleaning supplies out of the closet.

"Okay, he bashed his head again and you're saying he's fine?!?" Jim yells.

I wave him off.

"Yeah he's fine. He's got three lumps but they'll go down eventually," I tell him as I carry the bucket back towards the basement.

I hear Jim scoff and I roll my eyes. Jim needs to relax, I promised not to kill him and I haven't. Joey's not dead so he's totally fine. Plus he hurt himself so it's not really my fault.

I open the door to the basement and walk down the rickety steps. The bucket makes a clinking sound in rhythm with my footsteps.
I stop in front of Joey and stare at his unconscious body, taking in every little detail. His head has slumped over and his wrists have turned bright red.

I groan as I notice a light purple color forming on his wrists. I can't have him losing blood circulation, he needs his wrists to play.
I open my closet and pull out a wooden bat. I set it down beside Joey and then move behind him to loosen the ropes.
If Joey wakes up and tries to run then I will simply hit him with the bat.

Once his wrists are slightly free I grab my cleaning supplies and get to work. I start by putting rubber gloves on because germs are nasty.
I mop up the vomit and scrunch my nose as the smell tingles my nose hair.
I hold down my own stomach acid as I bend down to scrub the rest of the vomit off my floor.

After everything is squeaky clean just like I like it, I grab the supplies and take them back up stairs so I can clean them out.

As I walk into the room Mick scrunches his nose.

"Did you have to bring that smell upstairs," he grumbles as he plugs his nostrils.

I sigh and rinse out the mop and throw the rest of the used supplies away.

I move to walk back downstairs but Jim stops me.

"Is Joey going to be okay?" Jim asks as he stands in front of me.

"Of course. He's in good hands," I assure him as I pat him on the arm since I can't reach his shoulder.

"Good hands, my ass," Jim mummers as he goes to sit back down.

I walk back into the basement and take a moment to catch my breath. Going back and forth is giving me a headache.
I look at Joey and decide that I should put some ice on his head wounds and treat his sore wrists.
I untie his legs and arms and then throw him over my shoulder. I feel kind of bad for him. I've been treating him like a rag doll, but I can't be bothered to be gentle.

I carry him up the stairs and around the corner to the next set of stairs that lead up to the bedroom. I feel Jim's eyes on me as I carry Joey but I ignore him and continue walking up the steps.
I let out a exasperated breath as I walk into my bedroom. My hands quickly shut the door behind me and open the door to my bathroom.

Joey's limp body makes him ten times heavier then he would be normally. I place him down on the cold floor and catch his head before it can hit the tile.

"I'm so sorry dude," I mutter as I prop him up against the bathtub.

I grab an ice pack that I brought with me and set it against his head. Hopefully the swelling will go down in a couple of days.
I steady the ice pack and then grab a cool rag to wrap around his wrists.
His wrists and legs are the most important things on him so I have to make sure I don't damage them.

I sigh as I rubs Joey's wrists with the cool rag.

What have I gotten myself into?

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Written by me! @7_MICK_7
Thank you for reading!
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