A Guy's Best friend

Brandon (12)

His room was a mess and he was lying lifelessly on the floor.

I wanted to just rush in but I didn't know who was still in the house. I checked around back where the garage was, his father's car was gone. I ran back and opened the basement window sliding in. He needs to remember to lock this shit.

"Nicholas...Nick." I ran over to him falling to my knees nudging him gently. He didn't respond, I raised him up so that his head was in my lap.  His face was all swollen, dried up blood caked around his nose and mouth. Vomit and spit on the carpet. I gagged at the sight. I looked over and seen the newspaper not too far from him crumbled up.

"N-nick  you need to open your eyes," I said shakily. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing. I pulled out my phone. For some reason my hands wouldn't cooperate. This looked bad....really bad. Blood stains on the carpet, broken mirror blood on that too....Oh god. His head. It was still bleeding. I pulled back his hair from his face revealing a nasty gash on his forehead  close to his temple.

"I'm going to take care of you buddy. J-just hang in there." I picked him up bridal style laying him on the bed. I finally worked up the courage to call 9-1-1.

"Hello Operat-"

"N-no", I heard my best friend mumble weakly, "I'm okay"

I hung up the phone tossing it on the bed and hugging him desperately and he winced in pain.

"Shit sorry." I didn't know what to do I looked around wildly. I needed to get him out of here before that monster gets back.

"I'm fine. I was just out for a minuet. How are you feeling after the game?" He tried to sit up and I helped him prop himself against the head board.

"I'm fine. N-Nick what if he comes back..." My hands started shaking as I held his face in my hands. I was scared for him. How could you do this to your own son? Just because he said- this was stupid.

"I think all I have is a broken rib maybe at worst. He's not going to come back today. He packed his bags and left. At least that's what I think I heard."

we stared at eachother in silenece and I grabbed the back of is neck pulling him closer to me so our foreheads pressed against eachother.

"If he hurts you again...I'm going to kill him." I whispered angrily.

"I'm fine," he looked at me. His eyes didn't say he was fine. They were telling he was scared and hurting. I pulled him in for a hug.

"I wish he would've killed me." He mumbled into my shoulder and I squeezed him tighter.

"I-don't you ever say that again." I pulled him away to make him look at me and he nodded silently. I went into the bathroom running some water warm bath water. I helped him out of the bed walking him carefully around the glass and mess that was made on the carpet. I helped him take off his shirt revealing purplish reddish bruise the size of a watermelon on his stomach.

"Nicholas you need a doctor," I then proceeded to help him with his shorts.

"NO!!!" He pushed me.

"I'm just trying to help, your already hurt," I moved towards him and he tried to swing on me causing him to fall forward into my arms. 

"I fucking got it okay!!!" He pushed me.

"Look I'm trying to make sure your straight dude!!!" I grabbed his arm and he dropped to his knees.

"Just get out. I-I want some privacy," he hung his head.

"Okay, but I'm not going anywhere and as soon as you feel like you need help you call me." I looked at him and he nodded still looking down. I let his arm go going closing the bathroom door behind me. I went up stairs into the main part of the house in search of cleaning supplies. Broom, dusk pan, mop bucket, laundry detergent , and stain remover.
I filled the bucket up in the sink putting a bit of detergent in it and grabbed a scrub from under the sink as I made my way back in his room.