𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 ~ 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen:
"And Her Name Was Poet."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Heather winced as Stan placed the alchohol soaked cotton ball against the cuts on her forehead.

"Sorry, Heather." Stan apologized with a frown. "I know it stings.. I'm really sorry."

Heather nodded with a sigh, her eyes cast down to her bruised knees. "Felt worse.. don't worry about it, Stan.."

Richie sat inside the bathtub, leaning on his elbows as he stared at the two, his heart heavy and his mind angry.

Heather sat on the sink, her hands gripping the edge of it. Stan stood in between her legs, cotton balls and alchohol in his hands.

His right hand gently cleaned the blood from her face, while the left held the bottle of alchohol and bag of cotton balls.

"You know, I don't think Bill would like how close you guys are." Richie pursed his lips. "At all."

"Bill can fuck off." Heather snapped, her heart pinching painfully seconds after the words left her mouth.

Tears stung in her eyes, but she refused to cry. She refused to cry any more over a boy or anyone else again.

Richie clicked his tongue and looked away from her. "Sorry, Hezza."

"So, tell me, doc. What's the diagnosis? Am I gonna have a shitton of scars or will I keep my pretty face?" Heather joked, trying her best to smile at him.

Stan gave her a half smile, though it was strained, as he scanned her face. "Uh.. well, both.. You're gonna have some scarring. Bu-But don't worry! You-You'll look good.. still.."

"Yeah! Don't worry, hotstuff, I think you'll look badass. Hot as fuck!" Richie shouted, slamming his hands onto the edge of the tub. "I'd be all over you if I could."

"Mm.. I'm sure you would." Heather teased, licking her her lips as she looked over at him. "Wouldn't you?"

"Too bad you're with the asshole." Richie sighed, leaning back in the tub, bumping into shampoo bottles and nearby knowing them over.

"Yeah.. too bad.." Heather rose her eyebrows and sighed. "Fuck."

"Me? I wish you would."

"Jesus, shut up, Richie!" Stan rolled his eyes, placing the supplies by the counter. "Uh, you're all good now."

"Thanks, Doc." Heather slid off the counter, bumping into Stan as he backed up. She turned around to face the mirror.

The two boys watched her in silence, neither sure what was going through her mind as she continued to stare at herself in the mirror, not uttering a word.

"You're still pretty." Richie said, "Don't worry about it, Hezza."

Heather smiled softly to herself as she turned around and leaned against the sink. "I'd look prettier with my leather jacket."

Richie laughed, standing up and climbing out of the tub. "Hell yeah you would. Like I said before.. I love a girl in leather."