Chapter 4 – Driver
NOTE: None of the characters belong to me. I claim no ownership over them, and leave it all to the genius of James Sallis, Hossein Amini, and Nicolas Winding Refn.
The Driver grunted as he felt someone pulling him to stand up. The pain was unbearable, but he kept quiet as he stood up slowly, forcing his mind to focus on the scene in front of him instead of the blinding pain coursing through his body.
Somehow, he made it back to apartment 408 and now he was stumbling towards the green couch that he had sat on with Benicio so many times before. Nothing had changed from what he remembered. He slowly looked to the right and recognized blonde hair and a smooth pale neck. She was still here too… Irene. She was here with him and cajoling him to get on the couch.
His legs hit the armrest and he felt two small hands push him over as he landed on the couch. He shifted and felt another stab of pain shoot up his left side. Grimacing, he laid still and allowed the feeling ebb away once again.
He watched her as she took off his jacket and gently lifted up his shirt to look at his wound. Instead of gasping and crying out in horror, her eyes watered before she turned away slowly and made her way to the kitchen. He looked up at the ceiling, comforted by the familiar view of clean white walls. He felt a cool cloth against his skin and glanced down to see her washing away his dried blood with a damp rag, eyes focused on the task at hand and refusing to look at him as he studied her.
He wondered where she learned how to stitch and bandage wounds so well. The Driver thought of her taking care of another man's wounds. The feeling of her fingers making quick, light caresses on his stomach seemed to fight the pain away more than he thought possible. He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the armrest, enjoying being taken care of for a change.
"It's a miracle that you didn't die from this. You're lucky it didn't nick anything important," she quietly whispered as she placed the finishing touches on his bandaged abdomen and began to clean up the surrounding area. Her words startled him since he half-expected her to never speak to him again. He tried to catch her eye, but she quickly moved past him and disappeared from his view.
He sat still, looking at the table in front of him in the living room. Mail was piled up on one side and Benicio's half-finished artwork and cars were scattered on the other side. A glass of juice was precariously positioned at the edge of the table. He watched as a small hand grabbed the glass. A pair of brown eyes staring at him without blinking. For a few minutes, the pair simply looked at each other.
"You blinked," Benicio grinned.
The Driver smiled, "Yeah, I guess I did."
The boy cautiously came closer and crossed his arms across the armrest of the couch, juice glass still in his hand. "Did the man with the bullet hurt you?"
The Driver looked at the young boy and paused before answering in his hushed tone, "Yes. But, it's all over now. No one is going to hurt you or your mom."
"Benicio, come over here and eat your breakfast." Both Benicio and the Driver looked up at Irene, standing behind them with a plate of scrambled eggs in her hand.
The boy looked back at his mother, before turning around completely, "You said I could watch cartoons while I ate." Irene walked over in front of the TV and set the plate down, gesturing Benicio to sit and eat before turning on the TV. Benicio, with a satisfied grin, sat down in front of his plate and promptly forgot everything around him as he fixated on the muppets dance around on screen.
The Driver quietly followed Irene's every move, never taking his eyes off her. She walked back towards the kitchen and came back moments later with a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, placing it on the floor in front of the couch before hurriedly leaving the area.
After she left, he stared at the space she left in her wake for a moment before glancing at Benicio still in front of the TV, absorbed with his show. He looked down at the plate, placed just within arm's reach. Taking a slice of toast with jam, he brought it to his lips and closed his eyes as he chewed. He would have to think of something to say to her, some way to tell her that he came back to look out for her instead of the other way around… For now though, he would rest, with children' songs playing in the background as he fell asleep.
Author's Note: Hi all. I'm a novice at this and am open to feedback and criticisms. Chapters too long/short? Too wordy? Please review and let me know if there's any reason for me to continue or if I should seek another hobby!