Fairsville

Chapter four; Gauzes & Cotton Balls ꧁꧂ (𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘢)

I grab everything. Everything. I don't stop to look at prices or what the item is. I need to hurry. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯? My newly minted sneakers squeak on the quartz flooring. I set my items on top of the counter. "Is that all?" The lady asks me. I nod quickly. The lady at the counter moves very slowly. "I have an account." I say, wanting her to look up. "Name?" She said, sounding quite dull. "Maya Lance." and then I start sprinting like my life depends on it. Only it isn't my life that depends on it, it's Marins.
I don't bother saying Hi, how's your family to the perfect people. Right now I have more things to deal with.
I trip along a rocky path, giving myself a gusher. (Win's and my way of saying bloody nose) and so I take out a cotton ball and shove it up my nostril. I see Marin from afar, screaming in actual pain.
I sit down by her knees and ask her to slowly move her hand towards me.
She struggles to move her arm, which has suffered blood loss and was turning a light pale. Her freckles were more visible.
I gently put a gauze inside the hole. While it collected blood quickly, I got my cleaning alcohol.
Marin shrieked at the amount of blood the gauze collected within the minute. "I'm gonna die." She said, oddly sounding tired. "Get some rest while I clean you up. We won't tell anyone about this." I sniffle.
Her blood dripped onto my new shoes. "Cool." I shrug. I could outline that and make it into a cool splash effec- oh who am I kiddding I can't do that, it's too creepy.
I watch Marin fall asleep, slowly. Winston is massaging her shoulders, loosening her up.
"She's so tense." I hear him whisper. "I would be too if I had a hole in my hand." Scott whispers back, focused on the hand.
"I need to get home, or my mom is gonna beat me." Scott sighs, getting up. "But if anything happens," He makes a movement with his hands that says 'Call me', and surely enough, he says, "Call."
I watch him head off, his skateboard looking like it could break any minute.
I look at Winston. "What will her parents think?" Winston mumbles. "Well, the receptionist didn't see it. Nobody in town saw it. Maybe it's just us. She can problably mask the pain expression. And she can take a melatonin and take a nap. And maybe an Advil." I shrug, looking at her calm breathing pace. Winston nods in response. "I gotta go." I say, my bones cracking at my knee joints. "Alright. I'll take Marin home, and I'll watch her until she gets up. I'm in no rush to get home." He says, fixing his chocolate brown hair. "Okay. I'll see you at school tomorrow," I fix my helmet on my bike. "Love you!" I shout, riding off. "Love you, too, Dingbat!" He giggles before I hit a speed bump.
"Oh boy." I say, pedaling slow.
I try not too think too much of the incident, and try to calm myself.
I arrive home, a familiar, but abandoned car sits in the leaf infested driveway.
My grandma probably hasn't driven in 12 years, which explains the car. I'm usually the one to go and get things, like groceries, toilet paper, and once a month, good old tampons.
I open the rickety door that gram-gram refuses to replace. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.
My grandmother isn't that old, maybe forty-forty one.
My mom had me when she was seventeen. Not even a legal adult. My dad, also seventeen.
I was a mistake, is what I'm tryna say here. But the thing is, I don't necessarily feel like a mistake.
I saw this thing online on a suicide prevention charity ad, that your chances of being born are one in four TRILLION. I let that sink in. So maybe I was chosen by the friggin' universe for a reason.
Wow.