Ruby Red

XI

       

With a quick clap I close the big book and slide it back into the bookshelf. "And?" Ken asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "I'm... so sorry. All of this is just... terrible. I wish I knew how to help." Upon hearing my words, the hopefulness visibly drains out of his face. He sighs and gets up from his chair, snatching his jacket from the chair next to him. "Where are you going?" I ask, suddenly feeling more alert. "Going to get some food. Keep the door locked. I'll knock 5 times so you know it's me." I walk after him as he walks up the stairs. "But-" "Just stay here." He demands. He continues to pace up the stairs slowly, and that's when I have to grab onto the wall to prevent myself from falling. My vision goes blurry, and a familiar ache rushes through my head.

I walk out of the basement, down the dark alley. Before I make it to the main road, something, or rather someone, pushes me back against the solid brick wall. Look at me. The person grabs me by my neck and holds me up against the cold bricks. Fear washes over me and I look at the sky. I said look at me. Look into my eyes. The voice demands. It takes everything in me to keep looking at the sky. The persons hand tightens around my neck, making it harder for me to breathe. LOOK AT ME. I feel myself giving up. My eyes move to his, and that is when I realize he is wearing a mask, covering up everything but his eyes. Something burns behind my ear, causing blood to run down my neck. The person in front of me falls onto the ground lifelessly. When I look to the left, I see it. That same dark fog that almost got me last time.

I gasp for air. Sweat drips down my forehead as I look around with blurred vision. A bed... Books... The basement. I blink a few times to adjust to the light. This has happened before. The familiar pain I feel in my head, the slight ache in my heart after waking up from a similar nightmare. It feels exactly the same as in the motel, except this time, I know where to go. Ken. "Ken?" I ask unsurely. Is he really gone? "Ken!" I call as I scan the area hastily. When no one replies, I don't hesitate. With a quiet groan I get up from the floor and climb up the stairs. The door is locked. I look around for the key. Panic slowly boils up inside of me, making it hard to focus. A light shimmer in the wall grabs my attention. I reach out for it, and hidden underneath a torn piece of wallpaper, is the key. I quickly push it into the lock and swing the door open.

Astonishment, fear, and anger. That's what I feel when I see Ken being held up against the wall by his neck. This confirms it. My visions are real. Thunder roars through the dark night sky as raindrops start to drizzle down. I said look at me. Look into my eyes. I have no time to waste. In front of me, on top of a pile of garbage bags, there's a big metal pipe. A weapon. Everything happens within seconds. Before I know it, I'm slamming the pipe into the persons back, and Ken drops to the floor gasping for air. The tall guy turns around and I see the mask, as expected. However, he does something unexpected, and punches me right in the face. The pipe slips out of my hands. I stumble back against the wall. My left cheek throbs painfully and I inhale sharply, watching the guy as he steps my way. Before he can do anything, I see Ken back on his two feet. He grabs the guy and slams him onto the cold concrete. The guy drags him down with him and it results in a violent fist fight. "Ken!" I call, but he doesn't hear me. Don't look at him. I push myself onto my feet and reach out to grab the guy by his collar. I pull him off Ken, and it gives him enough time to punch him square on the mouth. A piece of the mask falls onto the floor next to me. The guy finally stumbles back, blood splattered all over the white plastic on his face. He gets up and touches his exposed skin, obviously shocked by the blood on his fingers. With one last look he jolts off onto the main road, leaving behind nothing but bruises, pain and a shard of his mask.

With Ken's arm around my shoulder, I carry his weight down the narrow stairs. He coughs weakly, and by the sound of it, coughs up some blood. After I carefully place him on one of the lounge chairs, I run back up the stairs to lock the door. If the guy knows where Ken lives, it's game over. Better keep that door locked. I hurry down the stairs again. Ken lets out another painful groan. For a moment I hesitate and don't know where to go. Ken's bloody cough brings me back to reality. I run to the door next to the bookshelf and open it. I was right. It's a bathroom. Instinctively, I open the cupboard above the sink. It's surprisingly empty, and the bottle of disinfectant alcohol is right there. I grab it, along with a small towel, and run back out.

I help Ken take his coat off, and he leans back with his eyes closed. Sweat and rainwater drip down his forehead, turning red when they roll over his bloody cheek. I pour some of the disinfectant alcohol onto the towel. "This is going to hurt a bit." I warn before pressing the towel to his neck gently. He inhales sharply, and squeezes his hands into fists. I carefully dab the bruises on his neck. Beneath his ear, I notice four little lines. They look like the strikes I used to draw at school when I was learning how to count. A tattoo? I decide it's not relevant for now, I'll ask him some other time.

Making sure I don't apply to much pressure, I carefully dab the bloody wounds on his arms. He flinches slightly, but doesn't complain. Hesitantly I move the towel to his face. The final injury is a long cut on his cheek. I press the wet fabric to the open wound, and his eyelids slowly part. He finally opens his eyes, and when he sees me up close, he winces. Figuring I might be too close, I slowly back off. "Sorry." I say, but he grabs my shoulder and instantly pulls me back in.

Flustered by his sudden action, I feel my cheeks heat up. I stare into his eyes, as he does into mine. Or so I think. He takes the towel from my loosening grip and carefully brings it to the bruise on my face. "I told you to stay inside." He says quietly, as if the bruise on my face is worse than all the cuts and open wounds on his severely injured body. My heart thumps in my chest as he carefully disinfects the sensitive skin on my cheek. I'm not used to seeing his caring side. "I'm fine." I say, moving my hand up in an attempt to grab the towel, but it accidentally lands on his hand. He stares at my hand, and I can tell while I try to hide my embarrassment, that something in him clicks.

"Your ring..." He utters, staring at it intensely. It's only when I look at our hands, that I realize he has the exact same ring around his finger.