Bruised (Patrick Hockstetter)

Destruction

  For some reason I jump up from my sleep. I look to the clock, confused.

3:24 am

  Why the hell did I wake up?

Just then three knocks sounded through my room, making me jump. Looking anxiously to where the sound came from I see Patrick looking into my window.

'What the Fuck'

  I walk over to the window and slide it open to meet his face.

'Go away Patrick you can't be here'

'Let me stay darlin' he said trying to make his eyes look innocent.

'No absolutely not. My dads sleeping.' I said in a harsh whisper.

Patrick pushed me back, not even acknowledging my words and climbed through the window. His face went from a pout to a blank expression.

What the fuck?!

  I throw my hand up ready to punch him when he grabs my wrist. The slap of his hand against it caused my wrist to sting.

He tosses my arm to the side and grabs my waist pulling me to him. Is he serious? I go to push him away but he's a step ahead of me, spinning and shoving me the opposite direction.

My body collides with the full length mirror beside my dresser and I drop down to the floor. Luckily I pulled my arms above my head in just enough time to save myself from a major head bleed.

The wind is knocked out of me and I can't pull myself up. Patrick just laughs at my uncontrollable gasping and jumps onto my bed, getting himself comfortable.

'Shouldn't have put up a fight love. Only ended up hurting yourself.' He smirks at me.

My breathing is still heavy as I sit there watching my arms bleed out. A scarlet puddle forms on the floor around me landing among the shattered glass.

'My you look stupid.' He cackles.

My body stings. From my shoulders down to my hands I'm covered in cuts. Most aren't major but there is one that nearly hit bone right near my right hand.

My vision grows blurry. I watch Patrick light a cigarette and he stays there staring at me.

'Are you gonna pass out?' He asks almost sounding disgusted.

What comes out of my mouth is practically gibberish mumbling and whimpering.

My vision gets blurrier and I can no longer make out the shape of my bed. Leaning against the wall my arms go limp as my vision finally goes black.

'Oh fuck you. Pussy.' Patrick mutters to himself.

-

Patrick tosses the butt of his cigarette onto the wood floor and stands up walking towards the mirror.

He takes in the sight of the pool of blood and the shimmering pieces of glass before lifting the unconscious girl from the floor. With his arms now wrapped beneath her armpits he drags her limp body to the bathroom.

Once inside, he lays her into the bathtub and turns the shower head on, watching the blood swirl down the drain.

As he waits on the girl to be free of the red liquid he searches through her mirror cabinet and pulls out some gauze and bandages.

After this he peels off her wet clothing and pulls her out of the shower, bandaging up her new wounds. With that he takes her back to the bedroom, changes her clothes and lays her down in bed.