Double Jinx (Wattys2017)

Chapter 9

I opened the door wider for Ace to enter though his walk had become a limp as he made his way towards the couch.

"Lock the door." He mumbled as he passed. His voice was deep, commanding. Pained. I quickly shut the door, trying to dull the sound of blood rushing in my ears. With both locks bolted, I made my way to where Ace had taken a seat, his head resting on the back of the couch. With his eyes closed he asked, "How many doors into the house does this place have, I don't remember."

My mouth was coated in a thick layer of spit as my nerves worsened. He was hurt, really hurt. The cut on his forehead was turning purple from bruising and I could only assume there were more injuries under his shirt from the way he was holding his side. My mind raced through several different ways this could have happened but all my thoughts returned to a single culprit.

His parents.

They must have done this to him. Ace promised me he was safe, that we were both safe, but the evidence before me was irrefutable. They hurt him, badly. I remember punches and cuts but I could only pick out a few times when his parents beat him in visible places.

"Genevieve, how many doors?" Ace questioned again, his tone stricter.

I jumped in fright and squeaked out, "Two."

"Make sure the other one is locked too." Ace ordered, "Go."

No further direction was given or needed. I took off through the house, heading for the back door which led from the kitchen to the backyard. With shaking hands, I reached forward and twisted the locks on this door as well then pulled the blinds down for good measure. Then I returned to where Ace was nearly passed out in the living room.

He looked terrible.

I entered the room silently, afraid of making any noise and disturbing Ace. But not even the Lord himself could disturb Ace. His body was strewn across the couch, his hand still gripping his side though it was clear he was asleep. The even rise and fall of his chest proved so. I eased my way towards him, walking on my tip toes.

When I reached him, I felt inclined to run back out of the room and pretend none of this happened. But I couldn't. The bruising on Ace's face was worsening by the minute and I could only imagine what damage was done beneath his shirt.

What was I supposed to do? Sit here and wait for him to wake back up?

No. I've done enough waiting. Ten years worth.

So as silently as before, I snuck from the room to grab the first aid kit grandma kept in the upstairs bathroom. It didn't have much but it had bandages and antibacterial cream. I couldn't reverse Ace's beating but I could clean him up. No one ever helped him when we were kids, I wasn't about to join that majority.

At first I worried I would wake him up but Ace slept through it all. I dampened a washcloth and dabbed it across his forehead and cheek to remove the blood from his skin, then rubbed the antibacterial cream on the cut before covering it with a bandage. There wasn't much I could do for the bruises on his cheek except get him ice whenever he woke up.

One more challenge faced me. How was I supposed to treat his torso? I didn't see any blood seeping through his clothes which meant he wasn't cut. What a relief. But he has been holding his side since he got here. Something was definitely wrong.

So was I supposed to pull his shirt up or ...

No. I couldn't do that, it was an invasion of privacy. Of Ace's privacy. I had no right to be taking his shirt off.