CHAPTER 15:
Zelena's POV
I can do this. The pitter-pattering in my chest blossoms to a full speed, rampant beast of anxiety with each step forward that I take. "Are you sure you want to see him? This kid-" I yield for a moment to ensure the guard's eyes are on me, left undivided by anything else. "Ma'am-"
"This kid is my friend. And he has a name. It's Robby Keene. And he didn't do anything intentionally. I am aware that he kicked me over the railing but he didn't- look," A shaky breath passes between my lips at the heaviness weighing upon my shoulders, a weight I placed there all by my lonesome. "You're allowed to have your own opinions about what happened. About who he is. But while I am here, I don't want to hear the negativity. I've had enough of it and regardless of what you say, Robby Keene is a good young man. A good person." The guard's eyes glance to the wall to reasorb the moment of shock he had just expressed at my redirection of his commentary. With a clearing of his throat, he returns his eyes upon me. He nods firmly once in an acceptance of my condition before silently guiding me to the door at the end of the hall.
His left hand reaches down for his keycard attached to the ID holder on his hip. As he tugs on it, the black elastic pulls along until he taps it against the proxy. The thin, almost clear strip at the bottom of the proxy box turns green with a beep, signalling the main door to unlock. He opens the door for me, placing his back firmly against the 'outer' portion of the door to hold it. I squeeze past him in the small space he's left between his body and the door's threshold in a precautionary measure for the detainees who like to play genius Houdini. "Table 12. All deliquents will be brought out shortly." His directions are short but toned much softer than I'd heard him speak earlier.
Without another word, I follow his instruction and begin the short walk to the table that should be 12 as shown on the map he'd explained at the beginning of the process. Murmurs from loved ones already seated at their table numbers shadow my every step. After the diner and having tried my hand at going to the mall to which I got stares left and right, Miguel reluctantly showed me the news press following my accident. My face had been plastered on every TV, a few local newspapers, and even around some public walls for a time. If they live here or close to Reseda, they now know my name and the 'tragedy' that struck resulting in my coma.
Tragedy the word causes my shoulders to shake in disgust. What am I living? A Shakespearean play? I snort at my own sarcastic comment, slowly sliding into the metal chair that ices over the backs of my thighs even through the denim of my jeans. Another shiver runs through me and I exhale shaily trying to think of anything besides the incredibly cold chair that my body is warming up and creating a mental dialogue for Robby like a robot- neither of those things needed to be in my head right now. Sure, I needed some sort of game plan of what to say to him, but I didn't want to sound like I had practiced. He needs a friend, someone genuinely concerned for him- not another person who has an agenda or wants a story from him.
Nervous and unable to sit still, my hands slide off the surface of the tabletop and stuff themselves into the pockets of my zip-up jacket. The buzzing of the lights I had taken interest in grows too loud and I turn my head to look elsewhere for a desperate distraction to stop the tears rising in my eyes. Immediately they find a beautiful pair of baby blues darkened around the rim with anger. Purely happy to see him again, my lips pull into a grin and my left hand slithers from confinement to wave at him in greeting. Instead of smiling back or waving back, Robby pauses altogether, halting his walk as he openly gapes at me. I could feel the eyes in the room drift between him and I. Still I focus solely on Robby.
The guard from earlier approaches my friend. Inaudible words are exchanged between the pair before Robby continues my direction, seating himself across from me without making eye contact. Taking the time he's given me with his avoidance, I silently inspect the bruising across his left cheekbone and the cut beneath the black eye he's sporting around his right eye. "Robby, if me being here makes you uncomfortable, I can leave." My offer sprouts suddenly from the silence enduring between us. "I-I didn't come here to haunt you or make you feel bad. That's the last thing I want to do to you and for you."
YOU ARE READING
In My Blood (Eli Moskowitz/Hawk FF) (Cobra Kai)
Fanfiction"...be fearless and stand up for what's right even when it is the hardest thing to do..." Perhaps it was poor advice whispered softly in Zelena Bloom's ear while her mother carefully cradled her between her arms as a child. Some sense of sweet nothi...
