Status: Updates are sporadic and may occur at whim, but I do try to add chapters regularly.
Silent Nights
Skin Deep
Matt and I walk back into the room to find Drew and the girl in basically the same positions. It’s lighter in here now, though, and I see the shotgun propped by the window. It’s the only light source in the room. I drop the stack of towels on the desk and kneel down to get a better look at the girl’s leg. It looks like only her right leg got hit, probably by the glass if the minimal damage is any indication. There are a lot of little cuts on her foot, but there’s a lot of blood on her calf too.
“I need to get a better look at the cuts,” I tell the girl, fingering the hem of her jeans. She glances up at Drew and then over at Matt. I understand her hesitation. I wouldn’t want to take my pants off with some strange boy around either. I look at Drew and then tilt my head to the door.
“Not without the gun,” he says, nodding to the holster she’s wearing.
“Come on, Drew,” I try, but he leans back against the wall, silently refusing to move. I look to the girl, hoping against reason that she’ll give up what looks to be her main weapon in a room full of strangers. She looks at the floor, probably weighing her options. Finally, with a sigh, she unclips the clasp on the strap across her chest and shrugs out of the harness. She offers the whole thing to Drew, and without a word he takes it. He walks to the door and his brother follows him out.
They stop just outside the door, and I see the girl roll her eyes. She catches me watching and nods to the window. The shotgun is still sitting there, where Drew left it. It should probably worry me that she noticed this, but I think if she really wanted us dead, she probably could’ve just offed us by now.
The girl scoots to the edge of the desk, pulling my attention back to her. She carefully places her left foot on the floor and leans the rest of her weight on the desk. She glances up at the open door briefly and then starts undoing her belt. At one time her jeans probably fit her, but we’ve all lost weight in the past few weeks. Now she doesn’t even have to unbutton them to get them off.
She works the jeans over her hips. I take her arm to steady her as she balances on one foot. She carefully slips her left leg out first and I catch a glimpse of a truly horrible scar on her outer left thigh. I try to stifle the involuntary gasp, but it’s too late. The girl pulls her arm from my hold and quickly kicks the jeans the rest of the way off. Without looking at me she grabs a bag from the coffee table and pulls out a pair of denim shorts. The hem comes down to her knees, covering the dark scars.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, not wanting the boys to hear. She just shrugs and refuses to look at me. I can’t imagine how that happened. I wonder about that man we left outside, but it looked like some kind of burn. Obviously she doesn’t want to talk about it.
Before I can think any more on it, the girl hops back up on the desk and grabs one of the water bottles. She lifts her leg up on the desk and arranges a towel underneath. She slowly pours water down her leg, washing out the large cut on her calf and the smaller ones on her foot. I pick up the antiseptic and a washcloth and move around to the other side of the desk. She lets me dab the cuts and only winces once. I put two butterfly bandages over the bigger cut and she takes over wrapping the wounds with gauze.
I still kind of want to know about the scar, but as soon as the end of the gauze is tied off she gets off the desk and walks away.
“I need to get a better look at the cuts,” I tell the girl, fingering the hem of her jeans. She glances up at Drew and then over at Matt. I understand her hesitation. I wouldn’t want to take my pants off with some strange boy around either. I look at Drew and then tilt my head to the door.
“Not without the gun,” he says, nodding to the holster she’s wearing.
“Come on, Drew,” I try, but he leans back against the wall, silently refusing to move. I look to the girl, hoping against reason that she’ll give up what looks to be her main weapon in a room full of strangers. She looks at the floor, probably weighing her options. Finally, with a sigh, she unclips the clasp on the strap across her chest and shrugs out of the harness. She offers the whole thing to Drew, and without a word he takes it. He walks to the door and his brother follows him out.
They stop just outside the door, and I see the girl roll her eyes. She catches me watching and nods to the window. The shotgun is still sitting there, where Drew left it. It should probably worry me that she noticed this, but I think if she really wanted us dead, she probably could’ve just offed us by now.
The girl scoots to the edge of the desk, pulling my attention back to her. She carefully places her left foot on the floor and leans the rest of her weight on the desk. She glances up at the open door briefly and then starts undoing her belt. At one time her jeans probably fit her, but we’ve all lost weight in the past few weeks. Now she doesn’t even have to unbutton them to get them off.
She works the jeans over her hips. I take her arm to steady her as she balances on one foot. She carefully slips her left leg out first and I catch a glimpse of a truly horrible scar on her outer left thigh. I try to stifle the involuntary gasp, but it’s too late. The girl pulls her arm from my hold and quickly kicks the jeans the rest of the way off. Without looking at me she grabs a bag from the coffee table and pulls out a pair of denim shorts. The hem comes down to her knees, covering the dark scars.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, not wanting the boys to hear. She just shrugs and refuses to look at me. I can’t imagine how that happened. I wonder about that man we left outside, but it looked like some kind of burn. Obviously she doesn’t want to talk about it.
Before I can think any more on it, the girl hops back up on the desk and grabs one of the water bottles. She lifts her leg up on the desk and arranges a towel underneath. She slowly pours water down her leg, washing out the large cut on her calf and the smaller ones on her foot. I pick up the antiseptic and a washcloth and move around to the other side of the desk. She lets me dab the cuts and only winces once. I put two butterfly bandages over the bigger cut and she takes over wrapping the wounds with gauze.
I still kind of want to know about the scar, but as soon as the end of the gauze is tied off she gets off the desk and walks away.