Fatal Flaws

chapter 27

It doesn't take long to find him. He's at the edge of the property. Walking up, he's seated on an oversized moss-covered log with his back towards me, hunched over. From what I can see, he's holding his head in his hands. Standing there watching him, I  try to gather the courage to approach him. I'm so confused. Why would he do that? It doesn't make sense. He's here with Roxie, so why does he care who I'm with? It's silent except for the distant noise of the party still raging. People are outside but not being loud. Some are making out, others passed out, face down in the yard. A group of people hanging out off to the side are playing a game of corn hole.

"Are you okay?" I ask nervously, pausing before taking a few more cautious steps toward him. Each step I take echoes off the nearby trees. The scattered leaves on the ground crunch beneath my feet. He doesn't respond. I watch him, waiting for any sign that he acknowledges me. The cold from the ice is causing my fingers to go numb.

"Why do you fucking care? Because I messed your pretty little boy's face up," he growls. The harshness in his voice scares me, causing me to retreat. I've never heard him this angry before. He sighs, taking a deep breath, lifting his head to stare out across the fields. Should I try to talk to him right now? He seems aggravated. No, he doesn't get to act like a fool and get away with it. I take a deep breath before stepping forward a few steps.

"First off, he's not my little boy toy. I don't even know his name. I'm sure he told me it before, but I don't remember," I snap, fully aware of how that must make me sound. Closing the small gap between us,  I sit beside him on the log. He doesn't move.

"Oh, and by the way, I brought you some ice and a towel, if you even care," I mumble, attempting to grab his hand. Once again, I flinch as he immediately yanks his hand out of my grasp, scooting his body farther away.

"Look, I don't need you to come out here pretending to feel sorry for me. Or trying to act like you give a shit," he snaps, his voice low and angry. I try reading his face, but the darkness makes it impossible. I can't see his features. Closing my eyes, I go over different versions of this scenario. He's in the same spot when I open my eyes. After weighing my options, I tried scooting closer toward him again. He doesn't pull away, but his body tenses.

"What do you mean? I don't feel sorry for you. Why would I? You started a fight with some random dude for no reason," I begin, but he harshly cuts me off.

"No reason! Are you fucking kidding me right now? He had his fucking hands all over you!" he screams, spit flies from the corner of his mouth. The log jerks backward violently as he jumps up, frantically pacing back and forth. He looks scary, his eyes bulging while tugging at his hair. I hate when he does this.

"Stop pacing and let me clean your hands, at least. I need to make sure nothing's broken. If you'd let me at least check that, I'll leave you alone. I'll go back to the party and forget this ever happened, deal?" I plead with him, holding up the towel and ice, hoping to ease his anger. He stops walking long enough to stare at me. I can tell he's contemplating my offer. This makes me feel a little better.

"Whatever, do whatever the fuck you want. I don't care," he grunts, but begrudgingly strides over, sitting beside me. He refuses to look at me but agrees to hold his hand out. The smell of his blood triggers me, with the metallic smell overwhelming me. I have to keep it together. I can't break down. It's not the time or place. Thankfully, I push past the memories. He allows me to continue wiping away the fresh blood that's trickling out. The light from my phone shines on his hand, revealing scars across his knuckles.

"Well, looks like this isn't the first time you've busted them open, is it?" I ask jokingly. He stays silent while I use the bloody towel as a homemade ice pack. Placing his hands in my lap, I lay the ice pack on them.