The Skeleton In Me

Chapter Thirty-Two

a lil fact about this story is that i started writing this novel bc i was inspired by the hunchback of notre dame and i have always felt that he deserved immense love and care. when i was a kid i wanted to date the hunchback of notre dame and i never understood why the girl never got with him. 

also i like clowns so i combined them

(cousin does not have a hunchback, i just feel like i need to specify)

(unless you want him to have one. imagine whatever you want to imagine i am not judging)

Chapter Thirty-Two

"You have no broken bones. You got incredibly lucky." The ER doctor went into a deep examination all over my body, pulling my limbs, bending my joints, checking my head for bumps or scratches. "You're going to be sore for several days. I can give you some medication for the pain, but I advise you don't try to walk much on that leg."

I nod, barely listening, "Thank you."

She turns to Cousin, who is sitting on the bed with me. He's sat inches away from me, but makes a point not to touch me.

She had previously tried to ask him if he was alright, and when he didn't respond, she asked me. Clearly she knew something was wrong with him, whether it be mentally, or physically. With the blood all over his clothing, and with mine all torn up, Katie had retrieved some clothes for both me and Cousin. It didn't help much since we were both still filthy with dirt and grime.

I didn't fail to notice how the nurses, and the doctors would stare at Cousin, his bones protruding sharply on his shoulders, his fingers curved and pointed.

His eyes were very dark today. He looked angry. He always looks angry when others are around. I know it is because he doesn't trust anyone else, I really can't blame him for that. Still, it's hard to act normal when he's throwing mental daggers at every stranger we come across. 

The truth is, I'm scared, not of him, but what he's capable of. I never would have considered him to be dangerous, and to me, I know he's not. But to others? 

He killed that dog, and he did it mercilessly. 

It is hard to accept the fact that I may have been underestimating his rage.

When the doctor was finished, Katie was allowed to come back into the ER room. The first thing she did was hug me, which was something she's already done several other times today.

With her arms around me, Cousin watched her squeeze me, his eyes locked on her hand as it ran through my hair, slowly she began to brush the tangles out with her fingers. 

She noticed his glare, and frowned, "You're boyfriend is plotting to kill me again." She makes a poor attempt at a joke because she feels just as awkward as I do when he looks like that.

"He's not going to kill you, don't say that." I can't bring myself to say he's not my boyfriend. He's not, but I also don't want to say that he's not.

"You know what I mean."

I twist my head over, and look at Cousin. His eyes never leave Katie. He looks repulsed, and the anger pulsating out of him is so evident that I wince.

"Are you alright?" I ask him, because he doesn't look alright.

He blinks once, then twice. His eyes slowly moving from Katie to me. The question hung between us like a bridge, and I knew as well as he knew that no, he was not alright. 

He won't speak to me when Katie is here, when all those people are out in the halls of the hospital. There are too many people near us. 

I tell Katie we are both fine and we should go home.