Dear Winston | The Outsiders

1:6

Sabrina forced cough syrup down my throat as I laid on the couch. The couch was my day bed, I can't move much but I don't want to be stuck in my room all day. When I lay on the couch I can watch Tv and cars that drive past our apartment. But Sabrina forcing cough syrup down my throat didn't help.

Yeah I guess I do have a slight cough and it did hurt the cuts on my stomach when I coughed, but I didn't need pounds of cough syrup shoveled into my throat.

"Sabrina. Cut it out. Keep feeding me cough syrup and I'll turn into it" I said, I wanted to shove my toe in her ear to make her back away from me, but that would hurt my cuts.

"Stop coughing so much and maybe I'll stop. I don't want to pay another hospital bill with money that we don't have. Got it, Mrs Disabled?" Sabrina snapped. I stared at her in the eyes and finally decided to fuck it. I threw my foot in the air and shoved it right into her ear. She squirmed away with a look of shock and disgust sprawled across her face. I cackled and finally got to relaxing a bit.

Sabrina slithered away like the damn snake she is. We always joke about hating each other and how she's toxic to me but I'm toxic to her. You could say it is our way of getting along. As I was relaxing away, Sabrina jumped up from behind the couch and shoved a spoon into my throat. I choked a little and spat it out. The bitch gave me more cough syrup.

"Fuck you!" I screamed. Sabrina ran away to her room, giggling away like she just pulled a prank on the principal of a highschool. I wanted to chase after her, but it was better if I didn't rip open my stitches trying to chase her down.

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Sabrina left for work earlier so I was left on my own in the house, on the couch, alone. I sighed and waited, watching car after car go by. Nothing interesting happened.

I kept watching, surfing through the crowds. Finally some action settled in. The apartment complex we live in has a few shops just across the street. One being a little pharmacy. A lot of homeless people and druggie kids like to hangout around and behind there. Cops are almost a daily thing.

Some guy dressed in all black walked his way into the pharmacy. Nothing too peculiar, it looked like any normal guy. Maybe a dad with kids and a wife at home to feed, or maybe a dreamy 18 year old boy with beautiful brown hair and a strong build, or a guy with a criminal record and just got out of jail. You really couldn't tell from this view.

It only took a few minutes before screams spread amongst the crowds around the little store. People ran out of the pharmacy, screaming and throwing their arms in the air. Gun shots sounded. A smile grew on my face, finally some action, finally something other than fake tv scenarios. The guy from earlier, the one dressed in black, ran out with a bag full of drugs or money. His gun held high, pointing it towards citizens.

He shot out windows and at people, he shot up towards our apartment complex. I buried my head into the cushion of the couch. Fear flooded my veins. I didn't want to get shot, especially not after being stabbed and watching my best friend die.

The guy shot at some people, clearly hitting one in the shoulder. Panic settled into the crowd, everyone ran, some people pulled the injured person away. The guy started running, bag in hand, shooting at the police cars. And suddenly, it was all gone.

Maybe I had fallen asleep, or just couldn't remember. But I don't recall seeing the police catch the guy or the guy getting away. All I remember seeing was him shooting at the cars. I hope he didn't make it into the apartment complex. My heart skipped a beat. I rushed into my room and locked the door. Clutching my stomach as the pain cut through me like a sharp knife.

I leaned against the door and slid myself down till i hit the ground. I groaned in pain as my stitches flew open. At the moment, my stitches worried me more than anything. I didn't want to ruin my body even more.

I pulled my body out of my room and called 911, I hadn't gotten my car back, let alone my license. My car was completely totaled. I'd probably have to buy a new one. Moral of the story, I'm not able to drive a goddamn car and get myself some help.

I laid on the floor gritting my teeth as the pain of the cuts pounded on my stomach. There wasn't much for me to do other than cry and yell at myself for being so stupid. Sometimes I wish someone would rip out my brains and shoot me, just so I was dead and there was no way of me being as dumb as I am.

Dad used to call all four of his kids "Oblivious Fuckers" or he had special names for me and my brothers. I was "Fuck face" Sabrina was "Fuck Fish" Xavier was "The fucking baby" and Dylan was "Fuck Ass". God, I remember those days like it was yesterday. I miss Dylan and Xavier, thats for sure.

Xavier would be 14 by now and Dylan would be 20, I wonder what they'd be doing now.

I could feel the stitches crawling away from each other and jumping out of my bruised flesh. It hurt so bad, I called out in pain as if someone was there to help me. But No one was there. Only me and my intruding thoughts, the thoughts that get me carried away or lost. My thoughts often flew around my head and made me overthink or even worse, underthink. I just trust things and dont think twice, but other times i think about things more than I should.

People filled into the room, stretcher and all, asking questions and saying the usual "everything will be alright ma'am" in that "Im concerned as all fuck but im trying to calm you down" tone of voice. It made me sick to the stomach hearing them worry so much, I wish I wasn't getting worried about.

As I was being put on the stretcher, I saw my hands out of the corner of my eye. They were bloody and stained red, I guess my cuts really did open up again, maybe thats why I felt light... light... light headed...