Smash!

•F O R T Y T H R E E•

Jamie's POV

The December sun feels lukewarm against my skin. Yet, the weak winter sun beams brings tear to my eyes, certainly from being copped up inside a pitch dark tattoo parlor for so long. My first intake of fresh air is the icy winter breeze, its chillness waking me up by instantly sending me into trembles. I was strapped down for so long my limbs are numb, causing my knees to buckle with every small step.

"We should go to the police," I collapse against the building, the frozen brick seeping a frigid chill through my shirt, making my teeth chatter. "But we can't. Nate has too much evidence to put us all in jail at this point." I wish I hadn't said that. Riley's shoulders visibly sink as if I had actually lowered a burdensome weight onto him. I just made it sound like it's Riley's fault we can't get the authorities involved, despite needing the law more than ever in this chaos.

The guilty look on Riley's distorted face looks worse with all the damage. It truly looks like Nate punched his face in. Coated in crusty dried blood, the exposed skin is bruised in an ugly black and blue. His spilt lips are as swollen his black eyes. Twice its original size, Riley's broken nose is grotesquely askew. Crooked bumps where the nose of bridge should be. The break in his bruised skin signals where Nate's knuckles came down exactly on his nose, but the cut is scabbing over. The rest of him doesn't look much better off. This black hoodie is stained with dried blood. The left sleeve is messily bunched up at his elbow, exposing the "fuck you all!" tattoo that looks like it'll start bleeding any second now.

I'd give anything to see Riley unharmed right now. A part of me feels like I took it for granted the last time I saw him intact. Though, another part of me feels like I should count my blessings that's he's walked away with just a broken nose and a tattoo.

"I know where we are." Riley changes the subject, squinting his eyes from the sun. "It's Nate's territory. He primarily sells around here. Plus, he doesn't live too far away. If he didn't punch hard enough, maybe I do remember correctly that there's a convenient store not too far from here. Hopefully, they sell more than jerky and energy drinks, but actual first aid supplies."

"How are you still making jokes?" I question, crossing my arms at a weak attempt to keep warm.

"I think I'm in shock."

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Shivering all seven blocks to the convenient store, I stick close to Riley for warmth. Ignoring the blood smeared all over his hoodie, I burrow myself into Riley's side. Unexpectedly, he loops his arm around my trembling shoulders, bringing me in close without a word. For the first time in hours- maybe even days, I feel safe. My muscles practically sigh in relief as they slack, I don't have to hold back tears anymore from my broken thumb, and I don't mind the rope burn on my wrists as much. Every step further from that tattoo parlor makes me feel a bit better.

Neither of us utter a word. Perhaps our bound is so strong we don't need any comforting sentiments, our actions are enough. Or maybe, we have nothing to say to one another. We have no reassuring words to offer or we're both at a lost on what to do next. Either way, the walk is cold and silent, more importantly, the opposite direction of that hellish tattoo parlor.

"I can't remember the last time we've eaten." Riley mumbles as we track in snow into the convenience store.

"It's been at least a day. Maybe two." I answer, going hungry so long that my stomach went numb.

"I'm actually starving," Riley eyes the shelves of junk food, while passing me a shopping basket to my good hand. "Grab as much as you can carry." Riley advises, while shoving an arm load of chips off a nearby shelf directly into his basket.