Status: This is only part of the story that I'm entering in a contest. Once the contest is over, I plan to expand on it. That's why the description is soooo long.
You and Me, We Could Do This Forever.
2/3
“I’m coming, I’m coming. Stop knocking, I CAN HEAR YOU!” She yelled, putting extra emphasis on the last part.
The door wrenched open, putting an end to my excessive knocking.
“What do you- Holy shit, what happened to you?”
“My hands hurt,” I whispered, holding them up so Savannah could see.
She leaned against the doorway and raised an eyebrow, “You show up here at 1 in the morning, looking like you stepped out of a freaking horror movie and all you have to say is, ‘My hands hurt’?” Her voice rose several pitches and took on a lisp in a poor attempt to copy me.
“I did just step out of a horror movie,” I sighed, maneuvering around her, into the warmth of her townhouse.
“Why do you let him do this to you?” She asked, letting the door shut with a gentle click. “Why don’t you stop him? Do you enjoy it?”
That was worse than being slapped in the face by my fiance.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re always showing up here late at night looking like this! Why don’t you do something about it?”
“Maybe you haven’t realized, Sav,” I spat her name like a curse word, “But I’m going through all of this for you! I’m dealing with this for you!”
“For me? You aren’t even dealing with this, you’re just letting him hit you. I wouldn’t classify that as ‘dealing’ with it. How does any of this have to with me anyway?”
“Do you remember who it was who got you out of Arkham in the first place? It was me, Savannah. If I get thrown back, who do you think is going with me?!”
“You don’t give a damn about me going back, this is all about the Jo-“
“Just shut up! Shut up!” I flopped onto my knees, my once again bloody hands thrown out to catch me. “Please, shut up.”
It was quiet for a while, except my crying, as Sav stood above me, her arms crossed.
Eventually she left and came back with a desk lamp, tweezers, medical gauze, and rubbing alcohol.
She sat me down and shined the light so she could clearly see my hands. We spent the next hour and a half digging glass out of my palms with tweezers and safety pins. Once we were finally convinced they were totally cleaned, Sav suggested that I take a shower.
“Get your hair nice and washed, and I’ll fix it up for you,” She said.
So that’s what I did. I watched the re-hydrated blood droplets dribble down my cheeks, down to my shoulders, across my belly, down my legs, and swirling down the drain. It took forever to get it all out, I had to shampoo 3 times, and by the time I was done, Savannah’s shower was stained a rusty orange color.
When I finally finished, Sav wrapped me up in a towel and a really fluffy bathrobe and sat me back down in her office room. From there she began to even out my hair, twisting and tilting my head back and forth.
It did’t take nearly as long as the other two tasks, but it still took a good amount of time. As she was sweeping up afterward, she slipped a phone into my hands and whispered, “I think it’s about time you found The Joker.”
I sprung forward, attempting to land a blow on her anywhere, but she was smart and leaped back.
“I’m just saying, he could help you. You obviously don’t believe in Batman helping you, so maybe J could help you. I mean, you do love him after all, don’t you?”
And at that moment, for the first time in my life, I wanted to murder my best friend.
The door wrenched open, putting an end to my excessive knocking.
“What do you- Holy shit, what happened to you?”
“My hands hurt,” I whispered, holding them up so Savannah could see.
She leaned against the doorway and raised an eyebrow, “You show up here at 1 in the morning, looking like you stepped out of a freaking horror movie and all you have to say is, ‘My hands hurt’?” Her voice rose several pitches and took on a lisp in a poor attempt to copy me.
“I did just step out of a horror movie,” I sighed, maneuvering around her, into the warmth of her townhouse.
“Why do you let him do this to you?” She asked, letting the door shut with a gentle click. “Why don’t you stop him? Do you enjoy it?”
That was worse than being slapped in the face by my fiance.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re always showing up here late at night looking like this! Why don’t you do something about it?”
“Maybe you haven’t realized, Sav,” I spat her name like a curse word, “But I’m going through all of this for you! I’m dealing with this for you!”
“For me? You aren’t even dealing with this, you’re just letting him hit you. I wouldn’t classify that as ‘dealing’ with it. How does any of this have to with me anyway?”
“Do you remember who it was who got you out of Arkham in the first place? It was me, Savannah. If I get thrown back, who do you think is going with me?!”
“You don’t give a damn about me going back, this is all about the Jo-“
“Just shut up! Shut up!” I flopped onto my knees, my once again bloody hands thrown out to catch me. “Please, shut up.”
It was quiet for a while, except my crying, as Sav stood above me, her arms crossed.
Eventually she left and came back with a desk lamp, tweezers, medical gauze, and rubbing alcohol.
She sat me down and shined the light so she could clearly see my hands. We spent the next hour and a half digging glass out of my palms with tweezers and safety pins. Once we were finally convinced they were totally cleaned, Sav suggested that I take a shower.
“Get your hair nice and washed, and I’ll fix it up for you,” She said.
So that’s what I did. I watched the re-hydrated blood droplets dribble down my cheeks, down to my shoulders, across my belly, down my legs, and swirling down the drain. It took forever to get it all out, I had to shampoo 3 times, and by the time I was done, Savannah’s shower was stained a rusty orange color.
When I finally finished, Sav wrapped me up in a towel and a really fluffy bathrobe and sat me back down in her office room. From there she began to even out my hair, twisting and tilting my head back and forth.
It did’t take nearly as long as the other two tasks, but it still took a good amount of time. As she was sweeping up afterward, she slipped a phone into my hands and whispered, “I think it’s about time you found The Joker.”
I sprung forward, attempting to land a blow on her anywhere, but she was smart and leaped back.
“I’m just saying, he could help you. You obviously don’t believe in Batman helping you, so maybe J could help you. I mean, you do love him after all, don’t you?”
And at that moment, for the first time in my life, I wanted to murder my best friend.