Hey! Shortest story I've ever done! Not sure if that's a good thing…please enjoy, a lot is left unsaid, but I wanted it like that! It is exactly 500 words!
Enjoy!
"Jesus Christ," Jerome hissed under his breath. And he knew he was in trouble when Mara didn't scold him for his language, that meant she was in pain. Which she obviously was. She had come to his room with a bleeding hand, and it was long deep slice into her left palm. Jerome had rinsed it, but not for too long, Alfie had hurt himself enough times, for Jerome to know how to treat it. He brought out his first aid kit "Man, sometimes I feel like Fabian," he whispered under his breath.
He took Mara's hands, hating the sight of her blood, and he started to wrap the bandage around tightly "Ow," Mara whispered, looking away. It hurt, it hurt a lot.
"I'm sorry," he said truthfully, blowing on her hand slightly "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he chanted, resisting the urge to kiss her. She wasn't his girlfriend, he couldn't. He continued wrapping, not liking the fact that the blood was seeping through the cloth, but after a while, it seemed to have subsided. "Mara?" he whispered, wiping the blood off the rest of her hand, now it was all white bandage. And he could breathe again, he could relax, and his shoulders slumped thankfully. "Are you even going to tell me how it happened?"
Mara looked up at him, eyes watering, but she shook her head, hair swishing softly into her face. "I can't,"
Jerome swallowed, leaning away from her "Then why did you even come to me? Huh?! Why didn't you run to your boyfriend? Or Trixie? Or Rutter?" he looked down at her, in a mixture of anger and pity, and self hate.
What Mara said next stopped him. It stopped the Jerome Clarke. He didn't have a witty comeback, a sarcastic retort, a mean phrase, a cruel joke or even a facial expression to offer…his brain seemed to freeze when she said: "Because you're the only one I trust,"
He looked down at her, and the whole world seemed to slow down, as she looked down at her hands, which she was furiously wringing together. "Oh," he whispered. She nodded.
"Thank you," she said quietly, standing up. He looked down at her, blue eyes burning with intensity, his hair brushed forward, the dark streak of almond perfectly styled. But Jerome Clarke, had for the first time, lost his voice. She turned, and walked out of the room, closing it with a 'click' behind her.
Jerome swallowed, stood frozen where he was. The golden sunlight was streaming into the surprisingly clean room through the open windows, and it was too hot, and the room was far, far too empty without her presence. He already missed the small girl. Jerome watched where she had been, and realised for the very first time…
He loved Mara Jaffray.
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