You Had Me at "I Hate You"

"That's it!" I cried, picking up a pair of Linc's boxers that were, for some reason, in the sink. "This is the final straw!"

And it was. This past week, Linc has been getting on my nerves more than usual. A girl just needs things to be clean... She needs things to be organized... And Linc was anything but.

I strode into the room, and flung the underwear into his face.

"I can't stand you leaving your shit everywhere!"
"Mhm..." he mumbled, leaning his ear close to the body of his guitar, which he was trying to tune. "Hey, Dollface, tell me something... Does string this sound too low-pitched?"

He plucked the E string.

"I don't know!" I shouted, throwing my hands up in the air. "All I know is this: You need to stay on your side of the room."
"Yeah, 'kay."
I could tell he wasn't listening.

Well, drastic times call for drastic measures.

I went out into the living room, found a ball of twine in a drawer, and cut off a long section. Going back into our room, I tied one end to a standing lamp, and set the other under a heavy bookend on a shelf on the opposite side of the room.

There was now a bright red line diving the room in half.

"You stay on your side, and I'll stay on mine," I told him grumpily.
"What if I have to go to the bathroom?" he asked jokingly, referring to the fact that the entrance to the restroom was on my side of the room.

"You've got a window," I replied cooly.
He grinned.

"And what if something of mine accidentally ends up on your side?"
"It gets incinerated."
"Ouch! You run a tough deal, Dollface," he pretended to whine.

"Don't call me Dollface! I'm not plastic!" I scolded.
"It's either Dollface, or My Little Whore," he informed me.

I rolled my eyes. "I've got to go get groceries. Some of us are doing something our lives."

"Alright. Goodbye my little whore."
"Don't call me that, you bastard!"

He looked insulted.

"God, Violet! Lighten up! You're such a tight-ass!"

I huffed in annoyance and stepped over the string to get to the door.

"Your side! You're not on your side!" he called mockingly, pointing an accusing finger.

I leapt back onto my side of the string... This was a predicament. But I'm a smart girl... I had a plan.

I bent over and untied the string from the lamp. Then, holding it out in front of me, I stayed on the left side of the string until I exited the room.

"Oh, so that's how you want to play it, huh?" Linc called. I slowly turned to see what he had up his sleeve.

He had picked up the other end of the string, the one that was under the book end. He was currently holding it out in front of him, staying on the right side of the room as he jumped on my bed.

With his shoes on.

"Linc!" I cried, and raced back into the room. I shoved him off the bed and began to dust off my comforter... Gross... Lincoln germs.

"Hey! You're not on your side!" he whined again.

"Screw the sides!" I shouted, balling my hands into fists.
He tried to hold back a laugh.

That's what got me. That little laugh.

What business does he have laughing at me? I was probably just angry because he used my tactics against me... but that's not the point! If there's one thing that I hate, it's when people, Lincoln specifically, undermine me!

Fuming, I reached for the first thing I laid eyes on. It was the still unopened, square cologne box on his dresser. It was in the shiny cellophane package, and it felt just the right weight for throwing.

"By the way, Lincoln," I spat. "You should probably open this!"

I held it up to him, and narrowed my eyes to dangerous slits.

"Yeah? Why?" he answered, venom in his voice.

"Because you really smell!"

I reeled back and lobbed it at Linc's head. The corner of the smartly wrapped box connected, clocking him in the forehead. He let out a strangled cry.

He clapped his hand to the spot where I'd hit him, above his right eye. I didn't stop to see how seriously hurt he was, and stormed out of the room.

I snatched my purse from a small table near the door and headed out into the frigid air. The wind greeted me with malice, stinging my nose and naked fingers.

I cursed myself for not bringing gloves and tried to decide where I could go... With only six dollars and half a pack of Juicy Fruit.

I hailed a taxi, and shoved a fiver under his nose.

"Just get me out of here," I mumbled.
"You got it, Miss," he shrugged.

We ended up at that little coffee shop near the local college, the one where I'd first met Jesse. I thanked the driver, and stepped out of the cab.

I began to realize that this was a really bad idea. I was now stranded downtown... With one dollar to my name.

I stepped into the coffee shop, which had a blinking sign that stated:

Java Jams!

Then, I cried, "Jesse?"
He was sitting with charcoal pencils and papers sprawled out across a small table towards the front of the shop.

"Violet?" he instantly brightened. "What are you doing here?"
I plopped down in the seat across from him. "Getting away from Lincoln."
He shrugged. "Understandable."

He then waved his hand in the air and pointed to me, signaling for the waiter to bring me a drink. The busboy leapt into action, fumbling over to the hot chocolate canister.

I surveyed his drawing from across the table. It was upside down from where I was sitting, but I could tell it was really good.

"Wow! Is that for your class?"
He grinned. "Yeah... We're supposed to be experimenting with different angles of light... Hey, don't look at my drawings! They aren't finished!"

I sighed as he scrambled to shove all the papers into his messenger bag.

"Artists!"
He laughed. "So what did Linc do to you?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
He laughed again. "Yeah, good point. I guess what I meant was, what did you do to him?"

"I hit him in the head with a bottle of cologne."
"Ouch."
"I hope he's bleeding," I said with malice.

His eyes widened. "I hope he isn't..."
I raised an eyebrow. "Uh... why?"
"Because Linc faints at the sight of his own blood... He really can't stand it. Last time I left him alone, he accidentally cut his finger. He blacked out... He was on the floor for... I don't know how many hours."

I swallowed. Guilt started bubbling up in my stomach.

Jesse didn't notice, and continued. "Yeah... Well, there's that, and there's also the fact that his blood doesn't clot very well."
"What does that mean?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"Well, when you get a cut, there are these little proteins that make it clot. A clot stops the cut from bleeding... like a scab."

I was shaking. What if he was there, bleeding? What if... What if...?

Jesse still didn't notice. "And Linc doesn't have enough of those proteins, so, whenever he gets cut really bad, he can't stop bleeding. Every scratch is a trip to the hospital."

I racked my brain... When I left, did I see red seeping out from in between his fingers? Was he unconscious and bleeding to death?

Did I kill him?

"The disease is called the von Willebrand Disease, and he's got the mildest form of it, which is Type 1. But it's still pretty serious," Jesse kept babbling. "I remember this one time, when he sliced his hand open while trying to-"

He paused. I guess he'd caught sight of me.

I imagined what I must look like. Deathly pale, shivering, and... wait for it...

I felt a wet tear slide down my cheek.

And crying.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Violet... Did you... When you left... Did you check to see if he was bleeding?"
I choked out a sob. People around us were staring. "N-N-No!"

Jesse stood up so fast that his chair toppled over. He slapped a twenty on the table, not really looking at what he was doing, grabbed my hand and his book bag, and pulled me outside.

He hailed a cab, still gripping my wrist like I was a five-year-old. I wiped my streaming eyes, but there was no stopping them. I continued to be a human fountain.

Jesse gave our address and hissed, "Step on it!"
The cabbie obeyed, sensing the urgency of the situation.

Jesse's face was stone. He didn't move, didn't talk to me, he hardly breathed.

He wore a look of utmost concentration. He was staring straight ahead, his mouth was a thin line... so thin that it was as if someone had painted it on with a ruler.

"J-Jesse-" I began, sniffing.
"Don't talk," he barked. "I'm thinking."

I fell silent. The rest of the five minute cab ride was silent, except for the quiet country songs that were coming from the radio, and Jesse mumbling under his breath.

"Okay, if he is bleeding, which he may not be, I'll call the ambulance. I'll request Dr. Hart, he's dealt with Linc before... No! They'll know what to do... A few c.c.'s of his missing clotting factor, and something to wake him up...." Jesse whispered, ticking the points off on his fingers.

After a few more tense minutes, we arrived at our building. Jesse didn't wait for me, and he tore out of the cab, after throwing a bill at the driver. I followed suit, my heart pounding, and guilt rising in my throat like bile.

Jesse threw open the door to the apartment, and strode purposefully into his best friend's room. He paused at the doorway, frozen.

Tentatively, I peeked over his shoulder... And saw something that make my heart skip a beat.