Chapter 41

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— Chapter 41 —
Burning the Bridges

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E L L I O T

"Ow, motherfucker!" Noah gritted out.

"Shush!" Angela said in response, pulling a thin, black thread through Noah's inflamed skin. "I'm almost done."

Noah was propped up on a sofa in the living room of the apartment, as Angela worked away at stitching up the gash in his side. The coffee table was littered with medications, bandages, antiseptics, and painkillers, though a bottle of bourbon had decided to take part in the mess as well. Noah had already downed a glass of it amidst all the commotion.

Chains had come, too, though it was Angela who'd called him over. Dressed casually in a sweatshirt and jeans, he stood miles over me in height and let the lights dance off his silver piercings. His hair, curiously enough, seemed to match their color.

Noah grumbled, "You said that twenty minutes ago."

"I told you to put a belt between your teeth and you refused," Angela said. "So if you don't need a belt for the pain then at least save me the frustration of having to listen to your complaining."

He rolled his eyes. "I should've just gone to a hospital."

"And I should've just let you bleed to death back at the bar," Angela fired back. "Now would you stop fidgeting? This is hard enough as it is."

Noah quit bouncing his leg and passed her a glare. "I would've found a way to take care of—son of a fuck!"

"Sorry," feigned Angela innocently, "the needle slipped."

"You did that on purpose!" Noah hissed. "Just what kind of fuckin' nurse are you? Jesus fucking fuck. I should've just done this myself."

Off to the side, I asked Chains, "Are they going to keep arguing like this?"

Chains pulled the toothpick out from between his lips and shrugged in boredom. "Most likely. They're going through a bit of a rough patch right now."

"This is a rough patch?"

"Apparently."

Noah turned his focus to me and gestured loosely at his surroundings. "Why's the apartment such a mess?"

I rested a glance to the living room. He was right—the place was definitely out of order. The fight I'd had with James must have gotten nasty at some point, considering that the couch was shoved forward, the rug was crimped in folds, and the floor was littered with books I must have knocked down when I'd fallen.

"It's been a stressful 24 hours," I mumbled.

Noah didn't need to know that James had been in the apartment. Considering his current situation, it would be like shoving salt in an open wound.

"Alright, I'm done," Angela finally announced, tying off the ends of her thread. "Was that really so terrible?"

Noah muttered, "Downright nightmarish."

"A 'thank you' would be nice."

He sighed.

"Thank you, Angela."

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