Collateral Damage | afi

5: beast of burden

"Ow!" Michael yelled as he tried to rip his hand from my iron grip. "You're squeezing me too tight!"

"Sorry" I sheepishly said as I lightened my grip on his hand.

"I don't even know why you still need me here, you've been doing this for years and I run a very busy schedule Miss Hidalgo."

"Ah yes, I'm so glad you could pencil me in for an eight A.M. appointment" I rolled my eyes.

Michael and I sat on the plush seafoam green chairs that occupied the white room and chatted about our days and random things while we waited for the nurse to walk in with the instruments I dreaded seeing. My sweaty hand was clamped around his but he didn't mind; he was too tired to really care seeing as it was eight in the morning and he typically woke up one to two hours later.

I used to be terrified of needles and seeing all of the wires and tubes coming out of me along with others I knew– Michael included, but as time went on and I grew up around the horrifying scene of the hospital everything was more of an inconvenience than something to be scared of.

From the age of seven, I was coming into the hospital every two months to get my blood drawn for doctors to examine, and today it was time I came back in.

Needles didn't scare me anymore because they had become so familiar. It was the possibility of what the needles would discover. Getting my blood drawn always made me nervous especially these last months since I had been in remission. While everything has been starting to look up, there's always that voice in the back of my head telling me that everything is about to go downhill.

The hospital was no place for a fashion show, nor did it deserve for me to put any effort into my outfit so I waltzed through the front doors in essentially my pajamas with a black hoodie thrown over my head. I pulled my phone out of my front pocket and went straight to instagram in hopes that scrolling through the endless void of social media would help ease my mind and distract me more than Michael– who was currently trying to make me laugh by giving me a Kermit the frog impression; it wasn't good.

I was flying past post after post on Instagram not really bothering to give my full attention to the content on the screen; it was all just people posing with their friends, pictures from last night's party, videos of dumbasses doing reckless shit that would lead them to the building I currently sat in, and cute dog videos that I double tapped on and instantly gave a like to. I was about to close the app and turn my phone off when my thumbs stopped scrolling, and I was pulling my hand away from Michael's to hold my phone with both of my hands.

I had to make sure I was seeing things right; I zoomed in on the picture then quickly dropped my phone into my lap like it had just caught on fire and was about to burn my hands if I held onto it any longer. I whipped my head around to look at Michael who was already staring at me in confusion from the moment I tore my hand from his.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked, clearly confused with my sudden change in behavior.

"I'm fine, I'm fine" I repeated as I carefully grabbed my phone once more and stared at the picture, my eyes shifting around every centimeter of the screen. The knot forming in the pit of my stomach was growing tighter as I swallowed the lump in my throat.

I was scrolling so fast before that I did a double take when I stumbled upon the picture that was being engraved in my brain. It was no other than Cassidy Bonforte who was currently stabbing me in the chest with a dagger. Cassidy was your typical preppy, entitled girl; every high school has one right? She had jet black hair, that I'm almost positive she dyed (though she would never admit to that) and a tan she claims to have gotten on the sandy beaches of Cabo San Lucas (it's probably just as fake as her nose), and a shiny silver nose ring that was much too big for her. She was always one of those girls who would brag about how much money she and her family had; always flexing the places she's gone to and the people she's met. Her and her family were well known in our city, as her dad was some sort of CEO of a big company that I never bothered to ask about because I quite frankly had bigger problems to worry about than if this girl was going to be able to get the summer collection of some luxury Italian brand I could never pronounce in time for her next getaway.