I Can't Save You From Yourself

I thought it was all my imagination. But clearly it wasn't, when there was a blur of movement and arguments going on around me. I didn't open my eyes though... I kept them tightly closed as I heard profanities being swapped between two people. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to imagine I was somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere that wasn't this filthy alleyway on the other side of the tracks.

“You know what? Go cry to Tom, I don't care.” he declared. Someone grabbed my arm and I winced but followed along anyways. I had no fight left to even open my eyes, I felt as safe as I possibly could with them firmly closed. There was stinging in my ribs and I just wanted to go home and never leave again. Home sounded really safe right now...

“Are you ok?” asked that familiar voice, surprising me. I slowly opened my eyes and was met by the brightest green eyes I've ever seen. I froze for a second, trying to be sure that it was actually him. Then I just hugged him. Incredibly unusual for me but he had saved me and to be honest. I probably would have passed out right then and there had I not had something to hold onto.

I pressed my forehead into his shoulder and held my breath for a moment, waiting for the nausea the resided in my head and stomach to subside. I just shook my head slowly, careful not to make the headache worse. There was a lot of pain in my ribs.

I pulled back and glanced down, he noticed too and saw all the crimson on my shirt. He gaped “Oh Chris, I'm sorry.” he murmured, grabbing my arm gingerly and leading me across the street that was gradually clearing of fog to what I assumed to be his car, a Camaro. 

"Sit here, I'll be back in a tick." He said, nudging me lightly towards the hood of the car while he walked around to the trunk to look for some things. I looked up, at the starry night, blurred through my fear filled eyes. I caught glimpse of a few moths, beating relentlessly against the glass bulb of the streetlight above, casting large shadows of their wings down across the street.

Billie returned within a few moments with standard, wing-it medical supplies. An old t-shirt, a pocket sized sewing kit and a half empty bottle of water.

I smirked at him to keep from smiling.

"What?" He wondered warily when I looked like I might burst apart at the seams.

"Why do you keep a sewing kit in your car? Isn't that like... Something only old ladies do?"

He chuckled instead of getting offended, and answered me while he set up his work station on the hood of his car.

"Actually... You could say that. My mom, she insists on keeping things like that around, always told me and my siblings, 'to be prepared for anything'. So she made sure all of our cars had a sewing kit, and a few other things in them."

"Oh..."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I could have joked with him about it, but I hardly knew him, and wouldn't know if I was stepping on his toes or not by doing so, so I kept quiet.

His swift, confident movements halted after a moment and he hesitated. In the dim light, I could see the maddening red blush of embarrassment in his cheeks.

"What?" I asked in confusion, wondering if I had done something wrong.

He winced and ducked his head in embarrassment. "You... Uh, since the cut is on your ribs, you'll have to... Y'know..." He scratched the back of his neck nervously while I said there dumbfounded until what he was saying set in.

"Uh..." I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, hands becoming sweaty and I was beginning to panic. "Maybe I'm fine, maybe I don't need stitches or anything..." I tried my damn hardest to brush it off.

"From the looks of it, it's a lot worse than you're thinking..." He murmured, looking down at the large blotch of red, which was slowly consuming most of the tank top. "But if you'd rather have me take you to the hospital, they could do it, too..."

"No!" I shouted abruptly, back peddling. "I can't go to the hospital, my parents will find out."

"So?..."

"They'll know I snuck out, they'll want to know why, and they'll find out I was with you-"

I shut my mouth, and took in his hurt expression. It was on his face for the briefest second before turning back into he nonchalant expression he'd been wearing prior.

"Yeah..." He muttered, "I'm not exactly a good friend for you."

"It's not that..." I tried to come up with confident words to tell him that wasn't how it was, but my limited, shy mind could only conjure up tiny, pointless sentences.

"Right." He muttered in reply, "Anyways, are we doing this here or at the hospital?"

I bowed my head forward, allowing my loose hair to cover my face to hide the violent red shade of embarrassment on my cheeks, burning on my face.

"I won't hurt you, Chris..." He murmured, his voice was trying hard to be kind and soothing, but still, the very thought of the pothead...

"I won't do anything... Like... Sexual to you." He muttered in embarrassment, pretending that reading the label on the water bottle was important or something.

I sighed, not in defeat, but because I knew, that the sooner this was over with, the sooner I could be home before my parents found out.

"Fine..." I sighed, my stomach twisting nervously. I lifted up the hem of my tank top just above my lower ribs, where the cut was, and looked everywhere but Billie's face. I did not want to see his reaction, nor the judgement in his eyes. I did not like him, I did not love him, and I would not have even dreamed of crossing paths with him tonight.

I heard the bubbling sound of the water pouring out of the water bottle while he dampened a piece of the t-shirt. He went to work dabbing it, cleaning up the cut.

"I don't know..." He murmured after another five minutes, "You might not actually need stitches, it wasn't that deep. Just binding it should be enough, and all you'll need to do is keep it clean."

He continued to clean up and bind the cut, while I pretended to be studying my chipping dark purple nail polish while I was actually watching him out of my perpetual vision. He was completely at ease and of course he reeked of joints, cigarettes and alcohol. I could actually get a closer look at him now. His hair was blond, unnaturally though, because I remember him being in 5th grade with me, and at the time, he had brown hair. I'm pretty sure that his natural color, I've only seen him with that once though. I've usually seen him with black, blond hair. And one time, in the middle of last semester, he had ketchup red hair. I wonder if it was a regret because it only lasted two weeks before he swung back in with his traditional blond.

“Thank you.” I sighed when he was finally done. I was actually quite surprised that I didn't stutter and trip over my words like normal. I looked at his face, and his eyes met mine. He smiled slightly, but it looked forced.

“It's no problem Chris.” he said softly as he cleaned up, tossing stuff back into his car through the open window.

I nodded, hopping down, and turning to look down the dim street. The sounds of dogs barking in the distant was all I heard besides Billie's rummaging in the car. I glanced down at my hands again, and went right back to wringing them in my lap awkwardly again.

“So, uh, what brings you out here tonight?” I asked as brightly as I could manage though I was curious.

His look was sharp and made me want to recoil every word I'd ever spoken to him, and forget I'd ever asked them.

“I was doing work.” he said flatly without much explanation. I was baffled by him really, and it annoyed the shit out of me.

“Oh... What kind of work?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?” he snapped without even a hint of playfulness. I realized we had stepped out of the kind, calm, caretaker enviroment, and now that I was not his problem any more, he wasn't obligated to even breathe in my direction.

I shot a glare at him. I cannot help that I am a particularly curious person, I always have been and that seemed to annoy everyone I know except my teachers who seemed appeased to have a student that actually wanted to learn and was not there to pass time.

“It's a simple question.” I snapped back, surprised with myself for the outburst of courage. That for once, I wasn't that shy, stuttering girl from school.

“Well... It's a dumb question.” he shot back carelessly as he glanced over at me. That's it, I'm done trying to talk to him.

I sighed in irritation, grabbed my book, and began walking in the general direction I thought home was in. I heard the clattering of his converse on the cracked asphalt road as he followed me. I heard his footsteps quicken behind me as he suddenly darted out before me, stopping me in my tracks.

“Where are you going?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Home.” I snapped back and shrugged past him. But he wrapped an arm around my waist to prevent me from doing so and I cried out in pain like I'd been burned. I recoiled from him like a viper about to bite, and glared at him.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” he apologized with some genuine emotion as he realized he'd grabbed my cut. I shot daggers at him as I stepped away from him and continued on my way.

“Oh no, please don't be mad Christian.” he begged with a chuckle as he walked alongside me. Why did he care so much if I was mad at him? We weren't even friends and were hardly even lab partners.

“I'm not mad, I just piss off easy and I want to go home.” I answered as calmly as I could without ripping his head off right then.

I heard a chuckle and came up short. He had better not be laughing at me if he knows what's good for him.

"You know what? Your moodswings are worse than a pregnant woman's." I spat, heading for the stop sign at the end of the block, illuminated by another streetlight.

I paused in silence on the sidewalk and so did he. I stood on the curb under a yellow street light that illuminated his joyful face. He was truly enjoying every moment of my annoyance.

“Why are you following me?” I asked in annoyance. Sighing slightly in amusement afterwards because I just don't understand myself all that well to just blurt it out. But once again curiosity had won out and I'd asked, but he didn't seem bothered by it. He shrugged with a grin on his face and kicked a pebble across the ground.

“I want to make sure you get home safe.” he smirked, but it faded into a stoic expression of hazy amusement.

I thought about those men, and flashbacks flooded my mind of the last person whom had said that... I shivered and merely nodded, feeling uneasy again.

“Then you should be pretty happy to know I have no idea where I'm going.” I hinted with a small smile. I didn't want to tell him that, but he wouldn't leave me alone until he knew I was safe, rather or not he hated my guts or the sight of me.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed my elbow, towing me back towards his car. I grumbled at his straight forwardness, but followed him anyways. A ride with him had to be better than running around in the dark blind.

“Where do you live?” he asked while ducking to slide into the drivers seat, and starting the ignition.

“Uh, in, on Christie, up the road from the bookstore.” he just grinned at me like a Cheshire cat.

“What?” I finally laughed as he backed out.

He shrugged while laughing “Did your parents name you after a street sign?” he cracked and began to laugh hysterically.

I sighed. I'd heard this before. A lot of people, actually, cracked this same joke whenever I told them where I lived, and so, I'd been called Christie Road more often than just Chris.

“Yes and no... My dad's mother's name was Christian. Bu my mom liked Chris. And well, they moved here and the streets name was Christie. So of course they named me Christian and everyone got their way and I've got plenty of nicknames because of their lack of being capable of naming a child.” I laughed as we drove over the tracks that I'd stumbled over earlier.

He nodded thoughtfully and laughed with me as he drove me back to Christie Road.