Love Is a ***

“You poor thing. What happen? Who was that handsome man that brought you in?” Edna was starting a game of twenty questions.

“Well… that’s Ryan, my boyfriend, and we were--were playing hard?” I hacked to my brain trying to remember what Ryan had said. If I change one little detailed, everyone will know. Ryan would have to figure out a plan of getting out of the spotlight, and I mostly likely part of it.

She nodded, and opened a door that led into what looks like the health room. I haven’t been to the doctors or whatever in years. If when I got Scarlet Fever the year I met Ryan. Being in a room with lights brighter then the football stadium made my stomach cartwheel.

“Your boyfriend should take care of you. Not allow you to play hard.” she said setting me down on bed.

I shook my head. Was I really covering for Ryan, or my life that was behind a wall that I had build? Either way. I knew Ryan would cover for me, because if you thought about it, it was like couples, and their sex life. You don’t go off bragging to your friends that you just fucked someone, or got a dick shoved into your ass. Of course this matter was different. I wasn’t worrying about getting diseases from not using protection. I was worried about Ryan throwing my body down a flight of stairs, and beating me with a baseball bat.

“We….some friends, a--and were playing a game.” that probably made little sense.

“Sports?’ she asked walking over to the cupboard searching for something.

I rubbed the back of my neck, “Not really. M-more like a tag game.”

She walked back over with a some cotton balls, and some clear liquid in a bottle, “Take your shirt off sweetie.”

I unzipped my hoodie, and my fingers grabbed the back of my collar on my shirt, and pulled it over my head. I threw the items of clothing behind me, and turned my gaze to Edna; who couldn’t take her eyes off my torso. I stared down at my boney flesh, and notice deep purplish, black marks littered all over my skin, in some area it was a yellowish, green from previous beatings. How could I cover that up so easily?

“Oh Lord! What happen?” she turned around and grabbed a can of alcohol spray, “Stand up sweetie.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I needed to think of something. It had to be good, “I play… hockey. I don’t always wear my pads during practice. I get hurt a lot, c-cause my teammates can be-be quite rough.”

She nodded, “Hockey is a dangerous sport. You need to start wearing your pads, and be more careful.” she explain.

She bought? She bought the lie? So she has no reason to suspect Ryan. I could feel the alcohol burning my cuts, and Edna began wrapping them up in gauze. She got some ice, and pressed it against my skin. I filch at how cold it felt.

“Let it numb up, hold it here. I’m going to go into the kitchen for bit. Want something?” she asked.

I shook my head, “No thank you.”

She grinned, and left the room, her heels clicking against the tile floor.

I placed my palms on my forehead, and shut my eyes as tight as I could. I didn’t know how I felt, but Ryan has to love me, right? I mean he covered for me; which has been done in the past, but no one ever noticed. No one in our group noticed the bruises, the cuts, the injuries that occurred just hours ago, because Ryan has a serious anger management problem. He couldn’t control his anger, and he would always blame me, get made at me for little things that I could fix.

Does anyone in the group actually care? Do they know the truth, but simply don’t give a shit? Well their all too stone to probably know what’s going on; and I could look like a purple dinosaur, with bird wings, and have yellow pok-a-dots to them. Expect for Mark who probably see’s my head flowing off my head. I chuckled at the thought.

I could feel my torso numb from the ice, and it was beginning to turn back into water. I took the bag off my skin, and spotted the skin, “Will Mac make it? No.” I lifted the bag above my head, free-throw style, “He shoots! He doesn’t score!”

I got up to pick up the ice bag, and placed it in the skin, and went back to my place on the bed. I slipped my shirt and hoodie back on, and laid down. Maybe Ryan does love me. A huge grin spread across my face at that thought.