Chapter Five

952 53 4
                                    

He was joking.

I was sure of it.

“You didn’t do that?” I all but breathed out through the laughter. My stomach was tying itself in knots and my hands cascaded themselves around my body in order to try and keep myself in control.

“I did.” He snorted out, his eyes glistening with humour as he watched me laugh. Although I have no idea why he wasn’t looking away, I probably looked like a deranged hyena; I knew I sounded like one.

“N-no,” I chuckled out, “You did not play chicken…naked.” I pointed at him. Who plays chicken naked? What kind of crazy idiot runs in front of cars in hopes of not getting run over, and plays it naked? That would be enough to make any driver swerve and most probably kill them, and any other poor sucker, around.

“I got hit you know?” That shut me up. My eyes snapped directly to his, widening with disbelief, my mouth opening to respond. “Don’t.” He spoke out; my jaw locked itself back together. “It’s happened already, there’s nothing that could have stopped it.” His voice almost drowned itself in pain, my heart twisting with it as my hands shook wanting to reaching out and take a hold of his hand that was gripping the wooden table we were sat at.

“Did it hurt?” I whispered, letting my eyes flitter away from his and to the random passer-buyers that flew past the window, from business men and woman who were exhausted after a busy day at work, to those shoppers who spent there days walking in and out of high end, white pristine shops and going out to those five star restaurants.

“A little,” Tim admitted, “I don’t remember much, and I woke up in hospital with a massive bandaged wrapped around my head and waist, so I knew it wasn’t good.” He sighed out.

“But you are okay now?” I looked back at him, mustering up a small smile but dropping it immediately when I saw the look on his face, a look purely terrifying. His eyes that are usually so full of life were almost empty, his dimples on his pale cheeks nowhere to be seen, this topic obviously meant a lot to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged off, quickly picking up his sandwich and taking a bite out of it, filling his cheeks up to make him look like a chipmunk, a very cute chipmunk.

Sighing I looked away, my eyes landing on the warm coffee cup in my hands, watching the swirls of cream in the centre as the little café we sat in seemed to grow in sound, peoples conversation becoming clearer and clearer.

Henry stop putting the napkin in your mouth.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

I can’t do this anymore, we aren’t working.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

I have scars.

Wait, tick-tock? The sound wasn’t a clock.

It was eerie, heavy, and low. It came from someone, they were saying those words, they were creating the sensation of a clock ticking it’s time away.The laughter came out of nowhere.

His laugh.

It was his voice, his voice that said tick-tock. He was here. My head snapped up only to stop on Tim’s face, my mind registering the past minute.

“Y-you have a s-scar?” I spluttered out. Tim’s blonde hair moved with his nodding head.

“Five. “ He whispered out, his eyes jotting from mine to anywhere in the cluttered café, he fidgeted uneasily. He had scars?

“From the accident?” I asked, my voice increasing an octave in shock. Tim just nodded, his face almost saddened that I was shocked he had a permanent reminder of something terrible that had happened o him. “I have one too.” I blurted out.

EchoWhere stories live. Discover now