An Arrow to My Chest

I’m sitting with my back to Gerard. He’s got my entire hair covered in black ink. It stink a little rotten and moist, but at least it’s not as bad as him after three days of not bathing. Now I take him every other day. And may I tell you; it is exhausting.

“Okay!” Gerard says, before he appears in front of me – his hands completely black.
“Now you just have to leave it in for a little while.” He smiles, before he looks down at his hands and rubs them.

“Thanks!” He looks up and smiles. I smile back. We keep staring at each other.

“What’re you doing?” I jump. Ray Scarlett comes up to me from behind.
“What’ve you got in your hair?” He frowns before I bends down a sniffs. He wrinkles up his nose.

“We’re dying my hair black with ink!” It’s actually quite fun to say. Ray Scarlett wrinkles up his nose further and raises his eyebrows.

“I hope the rotten stench doesn’t stick.” I laugh.

“Well, I don’t think so. Gerard doesn’t stink anymore.” I look up at Gerard, who’s now got an insulted look on his face. Though I can see the amusement glisten in his eyes.

“He isn’t gonna run away like that, is he?” I frown up at Ray Scarlett.

“Stinking?” Ray Scarlett looks around confused, before he shakes his head and looks down at me.

“No!” I’m a little amused by his reaction – the frustrated and utterly confused look spread across his entire face in every wrinkled-up inch of his skin.
“I mean untied.” I can’t keep my laughter down. I’m both laughing at him and at myself. Haha! ‘Stinking?’ Haha!
I wipe my tears.

“No. He said he wouldn’t. And well, his feet are still tied up.” I cough – the laughter having screwed up my breathing a bit.
I look up at Ray Scarlett, who’s looking suspiciously at Gerard. Gerard looks apologetic.
“Don’t worry, Scarlett. He won’t-“ My sentence stops there, ‘cause that’s when Ray Scarlett’s got a knife to my throat. His furious eyes are about an inch away from mine.

“What have I told you about a million times?” I gulp, but stop when my throat grazes the cold blade.

“Don’t call you-“ He presses the knife closer.

“So don’t,” he snarls.
“Ever!” He pulls the knife away – letting its blade slide gently over my skin in the process. I gulp as he walks away, and bring a hand up to where it stings. I bring my hand away to see the bit of blood on it. Fucking Ray Scarlett and his stupid fucking name!

“Are you okay?” Gerard says, and soon he’s on his knees in front of me. He places his one hand on my knee, as the other one snakes its way past my arm and grazes over the skin on my neck. I wince.
“Sorry,” he whispers and pulls his hand away to look at it – it’s still black. He pulls his other hand away from me as well – having left a black hand-print on my jeans.
“Shi-“ he says under his breath. He looks up at me.
“Sorry.” I’m speechless. He’s so close. I nervously start chewing on my tongue. He breaks our eye contact and looks down at his hands again.
“We should get cleaned up.” He looks back up at me. Oh, yeah. Cleaned. Yeah. We should go down to the water fall. To the stream. And we should get cleaned. I should clean your hands. And your-
I stop myself.

“Yeah,” I croak out as I stand up and walk around him. I think he follows me. I walk over and get my case of arrows and my bow, throw it over my shoulder and make sure Gerard’s following me as I walk towards the stream. I think we might bathe too much. But I can’t really complain.