A Sheltered Heart

Chapter 2: Wannabe Ryan Gosling

My converse feet shake so much I nearly stumble down the hall to find Brock, our security guy. Finally, I’m stopped in front of his office door. Rapidly, my knuckles knock on the large wooden door, when it opens I find large, husky Brock in his tight uniform top and plaid pajama bottoms. 

“Have I caught you at a bad time Brock?” My lips can’t help up let out a breathy laugh.

“Mari? You should have left by now. What are you doing still hear kiddo?” Brock was like a big brother to me, always looking out for me and getting me out of trouble. “Did someone offer you pot again and you didn’t want to hurt his feeling so you said yes?” He smirked as he leaned up against the doorframe.

“What? No. Look Brock there’s-”

“Another drunk outside? Go out back Mari, they leave eventually. Only sobers are allowed in during night we all know that. That helps them stop drinking-“

“Shut up Brock! I know that but we’ve got a serious situation on our hands!” My fingernails find their way to my hair as I run it through my bangs and loosen hairs to fly away from my ponytail, a habit I do when I’m stressed. The boy could be dying and I can’t get Brock to move an inch.

“What do you mean Mari? Something wrong?” All of sudden I have his full attention, I mean finally!

“Follow me,” running I lead him to the front doors where the boy remains, his arms loosely wrap around his own body as to protect and comfort himself. Poor thing.

“Jesus! What happen?” Bewildered Brock gently picks up the guy who’s probably my age and twice my size, considering my short height. With ease, Brock hangs him off his shoulder bringing him into the nursing department. I stand there, holding the door open while trembling in my boots. The nursing section of the shelter usually smells like the rest of building. Expect instead of alcohol and cigarettes it’s the smell of alcohol and more alcohol.

Pale white walls cover the large room, various cabinets scattered across the siding and many carts and tables loaded with different remedies. In a special section sits all of these interesting mixes of natural ingredients, some old remedies our nurse is for sure works for anything the doctors can’t create a cure for.

“Come on kid! You can badge his wounds while I call Mel, she’ll instruct us through what to do,” I stare at this teenage boy’s lifeless body being laid across the nearest bed. Cautiously poking it with my index finger and jumping back once I do as if it would attack if awoke it.

“Mari, he’s not a zombie. He isn’t going to kill you. Stop being so skittish,” I try to steady my shaking body so I took a seat at beside the bed. Forcing deep breaths in and out of my lungs. Brock is on the phone with Mel, our nurse, explaining how to deal with the boy’s injuries.

“Kiddo, I need you to take off his shirt.” Brock’s voice tries to hide an escaped snicker but barely catch because I’m too busy starring at Brock in complete shock.

“What the hell man? Why can’t you?” I’ve very taken anyone’s shirt off except to help my younger sibling when they were kids. This guy’s not a six year old, he’s practically sixteen!

“Come on girl! You can do it! I can’t, cause I got my hands full with alcohol and disinfectant stuff,” my eyes squint into the deadliest glare I could come up with in this strange situation.

“Fine! Just hurry it up!” Carefully I lift up the hem of this mysterious guy’s shirt revealing a very bruised but toned body. His body wasn’t skin and bones but it wasn’t a full on eight pack, it was faintly defined. Large purple and red spots designed his body, there was no blood seen on his torso, but his arms and legs had huge gashes.