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Chapter Two: Bleeding
Sheldon sat in his spot with his bowl of cereal. The spot was the same. The cereal was the same. The apartment surrounding his unusually pale self was the same. Sheldon stared, unseeing, at the TV in front of him. He knew that it was years ago. He knew that those weren't his father's footsteps in the other room, they were Leonard's. He knows that Missy's voice wasn't just across the hall, it was Penny's. No one was coming up the stairs, no one was crying, everything is fine now. Sheldon repeated the words in his head, his cereal becoming soggy, the TV playing, the sink in the bathroom running, footsteps, shouting, footsteps, punching, footsteps…Sheldon shook his head and forced himself to stare down at his breakfast. He hadn't felt like this in years. Or maybe he had, but he had always been better at hiding it. So why now? It didn't make sense. It needed to make sense.
"Hey buddy," Leonard yawned, throwing himself down on the couch next to Sheldon. Sheldon automatically leaned away from him, retreating further into his spot.
"You okay? I heard water running in the bathroom this morning."
"Yes, I was in the bathroom," Sheldon said awkwardly, clearing his throat.
"You never leave your room in the middle of the night."
"Well, sometimes it is necessary."
"I'm just saying, I've lived with you and you've never…"
"Leonard." Sheldon's voice was suddenly sharp and harsh. Leonard raised his eyebrows slightly, turning away from Sheldon and looking back at the TV. Leonard felt anger boil in the pit of his stomach. Sheldon had no right to bitch about things being exactly his way, down to the last damn detail…and now just to snap at Leonard for caring about his obsessive schedules for once.
"Just asking," He said testily, and the two fell silent. Sheldon felt his cheeks grow warm, and then instantly regretted it. He cleared his throat, stirred his cereal with his spoon.
"Leonard," He started, but Leonard also spoke up at that time.
"We were thinking of doing paintball tonight."
"But it's a weekday."
"I know, we just thought it would be fun."
"But…it's Thursday. We never do it on Thursday."
"I knew you wouldn't be into it. That's fine, we'll just go on the weekend."
"Like we always do."
"Yeah, like we always do."
Silence.
"Hey Sheldon, do you know where I put my flash drive?" Leonard asked after a minute. Sheldon just shrugged. He could sense Leonard getting angry.
"It's just that I had it last night, and now I can't find it anywhere."
"I already said that I don't know where it is."
"Whatever."
Silence. Anger.
"I'm going to work early," Leonard said, and before Sheldon could say another word, he grabbed his jacket, tossed his half-empty bowl on the counter, and slammed the door behind him. And Sheldon jumped. He wasn't just startled; he wasn't just surprised. He didn't know what did it, but as soon as the door slammed and the floor rattled, Sheldon's heart flew into his throat and his hands shook. He leapt from his seat, cereal sloshing over the side of his bowl and onto his Green Lantern shirt.
"Damn it, Mary! Get back here!"
"Shelly, no, don't go downstairs."
"But Mommy's probably scared…"
"No, no, please, stay with me!"
"Missy, I can't! I have to go help her!"
"Sheldon, no, no! Come back!"
"Mommy…"
"Sheldon, go back up to your room."
"No, I want to stay here."
"Mary, we're not done here!"
"Mom…"
"Sheldon! George, stop it, he's just trying to help! SHELDON!"
Sheldon pulled at his shirt and set the bowl down. Without thinking, he pulled off his shirt and went to the sink, turning on the water and closing his eyes. The water was scalding hot. His hand slipped and pain shot into his hand and through his arm, but he didn't pull away. He stayed there, eyes closed, breathing deeply. It didn't hurt, it was fine, it would be okay…
"Leonard, I think this is yours." Door opening, Penny's voice. Sheldon turned, his shirt still in the sink, forgetting, flustered, thoughts everywhere—voices still buzzing in his head, distant, sounding as though they were one million miles away. It was then Penny saw it, with the running water and steam rising from the sink, sounds of the TV in the background. It was then Penny saw it.
"Oh my God!" She shrieked, putting her hands to her mouth. There, on Sheldon's lower abdomen, was a long, ugly scar. It was still dark red, as if it had never stopped bleeding. The bulk of it was at the top, near his belly button—a terrible, jutting bulge—and then it trailed down, disappearing into his pants. Against such smooth white skin on such a skinny, blue-eyed boy, it looked like death—cold, icy, red death.
Sheldon quickly tried to recover, turning back to the sink and shoving his shirt back on. The wet dark green cloth stuck to him. It covered the scar, but Penny kept staring as if it was burning a hole through the shirt.
"Thank you, Penny," He said, holding out his hand for the flash drive. His voice was steady—his eyes were blank—but his hand shook as he held it there in midair. Penny knew he was asking for the flash drive, but all she wanted to do was take his hand and hold it, squeeze it, pull him into her. Sheldon's eyes bored into her—blank.
"Leonard was looking for this."
"Sheldon…" It came out as a whisper. She took a timid step forward. "Sheldon…" She felt sick. "What is that?"
"I could avoid the subject, but I will not. I will assume you are talking about my injury," Sheldon said promptly. Penny nodded. Her eyes were already swimming in tears. She couldn't imagine the pain, the ripping, tearing pain that it must have been.
"Well, it is a rather boring story."
"Wh—what?" Penny asked, taking another step.
"It is a boring story," Sheldon said slowly. "You find many of my stories mundane, and oftentimes you find them difficult to grasp. I will not tell you another one. Leonard's flash drive, please."
The two stood there for what seemed like hours, looking at each other. Sheldon wondered if Penny could see what he was thinking—and then reminded himself that that was a silly thing to wonder. Of course she couldn't see what he was thinking. Nobody can ever see what somebody else is thinking. They tell themselves that they can see into a person's eyes and know what is happening, but that had never occurred in Sheldon's life. No one had ever known. No one had ever cared to know.
Penny moved forward, this time with the flash drive in her outstretched hand. She dropped it into Sheldon's palm, who tucked it away in his pocket.
"Thank you."
And Penny was silent. But as Sheldon began to move away, to get his coat and go to work, she caught him by the arm, unaware of what she was doing. Her fingers must have been tighter than she thought, her nails digging into his soft, pale skin. Everything that happened next happened at once—Sheldon yanked his arm away, letting out a yell—a scream—a horror-filled, angry scream—and the two cereal bowls on the counter crashed to the floor.
"George! George, stop it!"
"The boy needs to learn to stay out of what isn't his damn business!"
"George, please, please, George!"
Glass shattered all around Penny and Sheldon, and Penny leapt back, standing on the tiptoes of her ruby red flats. When she looked back at Sheldon, she could swear that she saw tears swimming in his eyes. No. It couldn't possibly be tears. Not with Sheldon. Not ever, ever with Sheldon.
"I have to go now, Penny," Sheldon said, but his voice cracked. "I—I have to leave."
And with that, Sheldon strode to the door and slammed it behind him, leaving Penny alone in his apartment, surrounded by shattered glass and a ghost of Sheldon, broken, scarred Sheldon, standing next to her.
