The Key Chased the Blade

I told Mrs. O'Neill that we were going to get cough medicine at Walgreens. I swear, I thought she was going to have a fit and we were going to be busted, but she let us go. I was really scared then. I mean, Simon passed pretty well as having the flu, he was all pasty and sweaty and feverish, but Mrs. O'Neill had a bad knack for knowing when Simon and I were scheming. Simon wasn't doing a good job of lying well anyway. But somehow, we managed to get past her, even with Simon in his slightly bloodstained pajama bottoms. She didn't suspect anything.

At this point, Simon's pajama shirt was used as a temporary bandage. We got into his grey Mitsubishi and I hauled ass outta there pressing the stupid shirt against Simon's wound with him in the passenger's seat. I wasn't technically supposed to drive; six months hadn't passed yet after I got my license, but I didn't care at the moment. I just wanted to get to the freaking hospital.

"Simon, what the hell happened?" I demanded as I weaved through traffic.

"Promise you won't freak out."

"I don't think I could possibly freak out any more than this," I pressed harder on his stomach to make him uncomfortable. Simon muttered something about keeping both hands on the wheel, but I ignored him. "What, did you get stabbed or something?"

Simon didn't say anything.

"Jesus, don't tell me you got stabbed."

Simon still said nothing.

I swore loudly and glared at him, but then averted my eyes back on the road.

"Did you really freaking get stabbed?" I demanded. "You're not kidding me, are you? This is real? This is really freaking real?"

"I was out last night because I heard wailing," Simon murmured. "My hearing aids gave out on me after a few minutes, and that's when somebody jumped me."

"God," I said. "Jesus Christ, Simon. Jesus. God-"

"I didn't know who it was. It was somebody a lot bigger than me, I think an older man. I think he was the guy that hung those birds up, because he left a stinking pile of dead birds on me."

"Jesus-"

"I was afraid he was going to kill me, but I don't know, something intervened. I couldn't hear, so I wasn't sure what was going on. I was on the ground and it was dark, so I couldn't tell what was happening until I saw him run off."

"Simon, God-"

"I didn't want to tell you or my parents, but I called the police. I took pictures too, if you want to see them, but-"

I cut him off with a look and swerved into a Dairy Mart parking lot to stop. We were right across the street from the hospital. I locked eyes with him and put the stupid car into a parking space. I realized I was crying.

"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice cut out to a whisper.

Simon looked pained. Not just physically pained, but emotionally pained.

"I've known you all my life, why would you keep this from me?" My voice was nearly inaudible. "Jesus, Simon, you didn't even tell your mom..."

Simon winced and put his hand on the hand holding the rag to his stomach. At first I thought I was hurting him and loosened up a bit, but he just held onto my hand. He held it with a surprisingly firm grasp.

"You're too fragile," he said softly.

I ripped my hand away from him, jammed the car out of park, and stepped on the gas to get out of there. Simon let out a small cry of surprise, but otherwise said nothing as I tore out onto the road to the hospital. I nearly ran over a biker while doing so.

"Fragile my ass," I said. "I'm not the fragile one here."