Mr Kingston's Roommate | ꪜ

Mr Kingston's Roommate|35

Blake's POV
Wounds

Bang, bang, bang. The sound snapped me out of my languor, throwing me off the comfort of my bed. There was a loud screeching sound emitting from outside, followed by another bang and the sound of a familiar voice crying out. 

I grabbed the nearest blunt object for precautionary measures and climbed into my sneakers. The banging hadn't stopped, and after a few seconds of silence, my mother and father appeared in front of my door, confusion and fear etched on their faces. 

"Blake, what's going on. W-where are you going?" My mother asked as she reached for the bat in my hand. I retracted my hand, shaking my head as I motioned towards their room, "I think I know who's outside but I don't trust her. If I don't come back inside in ten minutes call 911." 

She moved towards me hesitantly, trying her luck once more as she pleaded with me to just call 911 without confronting anyone. I turned her down once more and ushered both her and my father back to their rooms. I clutched the bat in my hand tightly and descended the stairs just as her cries grew louder. 

There was a hushed yet panicked voice that followed after her, pleading with her to leave but she refused, instead she pounded on my door some more until I grabbed the handle of it, tugging the door open. I rose my bat towards her face and stepped through the threshold. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" I spat. To say I was angry would be an understatement. I wasn't angry, I was livid, if I had the heart to hit a woman I would have broken the bat in her face already. It was three in the morning and despite the fact I struggled to fall asleep all morning, I did not expect this, something that'll surely keep me up for hours. 

Plus my parents are frightened, they're not exactly the youngest of the batch. And yet still this bat shit crazy woman is at my door, nothing but a thin pyjama outfit covering her, clad with a pair of bedroom slippers. My eyes assessed her slowly, her dishevelled clothes, her unkempt hair and lastly the faint bruise around her wrist. 

I narrowed my eyes at Carl who stood timid behind her, his face much like when I came; pale, resembling someone undead or on drugs. What I didn't expect to see was a crimson red patch staining his plain t-shirt and the dried blood on his hand. "What in the bloody hell is going on here!?" I seethed through gritted teeth as I shoved Erika back with the bottom of my bat. 

She stumbled backwards and motioned towards Carl frantically. "H-he put his hands on me, Blake, look at my wrist, do you t-think I did this to myself? I needed to get away from him and y-you were the only person who came to mind. Blake, he's gonna k-kill me." She balled out, her trembling outstretched hands moving towards me. 

I took a step back and shook my head vigorously, making sure that she stayed behind the bat. "I-I didn't hit her, I was defending myself. I woke up to Erika straddling me with a knife in her hand. She stabbed me in the chest once but I fought her off before she could go any further. 

And then she ran out of the house and hopped in her car. I knew she was coming here and I was scared for you. I thought she'd try to hurt you too or worse, your parents. So I followed her here. I-I know it's stupid but I can't let you fall prey to Erika's obvious mental breakdown." He exclaimed. And then before I could reply he rose his shirt above his head and motioned towards the gash in his chest. 

From the looks of it, it wasn't that deep, but it was deep enough to bleed and not lightly. "Erika," I trailed off as I flickered my eyes towards her. She fell onto her knees and began to weep, her trembling hands falling over her legs as she dragged them towards her chest.

"I-I'm sorry, I was just trying to get rid of him. I know you'd never get back together with me as long as Carl was in the picture. I'm stupid, I'm so stupid! I hate myself, I hate myself!" She rambled as her hands flew up to her head. She slapped herself once then twice until Carl propelled towards her.