Chapter 15
ANGEL
I've had this nightmare often enough that it shouldn't scare me. Too bad things don't work that way. Instead, it's even worse because I know what's going to happen next but I can't do shit to stop it..
"What the fuck is this?"
Jordan pushed himself further up against the wall, holding the big kitchen knife in front of him, Sara and I peered around the door, watching the scene unfold. They were perfectly still, like mannequins or the people in the Christmas tableaux at the mall. Mr. Ralph stood to the right of the door, three steps into our bedroom, Jordan was pressed against the far wall, next to the window, holding his big butcher's knife so hard his knuckles had turned white. The new boy, who's name I couldn't remember, was huddled against the bunk bed, crying. He was always crying. Made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.
"What the fuck is this?" demanded Mr. Ralph, "Where'd you get that fucking knife? Give it."
"Not until you promise to leave him alone!" hissed Jordan, "You fucking *touch * anyone of us and I'll kill you!"
"Give me the knife." Said Mr. Ralph, real quiet, "Give it."
"No!"
"Give me the knife, Jordan. Give it *now *."
"Please, Jordan," said Sara in a tiny voice, "just give him the stupid knife."
Jordan took a deep breath that rattled in his chest and then dropped the knife on the floor. Mr. Ralph bent over and picked it up, turning it around in his hands and examining it. I expected him to throw it at Jordan, or yell, instead he just turned around and lumbered out of the room, and still holding it, disappeared into his bedroom.
* * * It was midnight when I woke up to Jordan rolling out of our bed.
"Where you going?" I asked, still a little afraid that he was going to go stab Mr. Ralph with a stake knife.
"The bathroom."
"Have fun." Whispered Sara.
"Shut-up, stupid." sighed Jordan. "I'm just getting a glass of water."
"Suuuuure." Drawled Sara. I bit my pillow to keep from giggling.
"Angel!" he called, a few minutes later.
"What?"
"C'mere!"
"No way! It's freezin' out, I' ain't getting up."
"You're gonna have to, I can't get the stupid door open."
I sighed, rolled out of bed, and stumbled down the dark hall.
"Help me push."
We leaned all our weight against the door, and slowly it began to slide open. "What the hell d'you think's blocking it?" I hissed.
"Dunno. Something big. There, I think that's enough." Said Jordan, sticking his arm through the opening and flicking on the light switch.
That's when I saw the blood.
It was everywhere, running over the moldy grout, staining the yellow tiles, all over everything. I was so shocked by the blood that I didn't even notice that it was coming from Mr. Ralph till Jordan dropped to his knees by the body and picked up the knife. He stared down at him, at the deep cuts running from wrist to elbow, then down at the knife, then up at me. He looked bleached and terrified.
"He's not breathing." He said.
I swallowed hard, "What do we do?"
"I-I don't know." He dropped the knife and stared at the palms of his hands, turning tacky with blood. "I don't know."
* * * A/N: sorry it's so short please review!
ANGEL
I've had this nightmare often enough that it shouldn't scare me. Too bad things don't work that way. Instead, it's even worse because I know what's going to happen next but I can't do shit to stop it..
"What the fuck is this?"
Jordan pushed himself further up against the wall, holding the big kitchen knife in front of him, Sara and I peered around the door, watching the scene unfold. They were perfectly still, like mannequins or the people in the Christmas tableaux at the mall. Mr. Ralph stood to the right of the door, three steps into our bedroom, Jordan was pressed against the far wall, next to the window, holding his big butcher's knife so hard his knuckles had turned white. The new boy, who's name I couldn't remember, was huddled against the bunk bed, crying. He was always crying. Made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.
"What the fuck is this?" demanded Mr. Ralph, "Where'd you get that fucking knife? Give it."
"Not until you promise to leave him alone!" hissed Jordan, "You fucking *touch * anyone of us and I'll kill you!"
"Give me the knife." Said Mr. Ralph, real quiet, "Give it."
"No!"
"Give me the knife, Jordan. Give it *now *."
"Please, Jordan," said Sara in a tiny voice, "just give him the stupid knife."
Jordan took a deep breath that rattled in his chest and then dropped the knife on the floor. Mr. Ralph bent over and picked it up, turning it around in his hands and examining it. I expected him to throw it at Jordan, or yell, instead he just turned around and lumbered out of the room, and still holding it, disappeared into his bedroom.
* * * It was midnight when I woke up to Jordan rolling out of our bed.
"Where you going?" I asked, still a little afraid that he was going to go stab Mr. Ralph with a stake knife.
"The bathroom."
"Have fun." Whispered Sara.
"Shut-up, stupid." sighed Jordan. "I'm just getting a glass of water."
"Suuuuure." Drawled Sara. I bit my pillow to keep from giggling.
"Angel!" he called, a few minutes later.
"What?"
"C'mere!"
"No way! It's freezin' out, I' ain't getting up."
"You're gonna have to, I can't get the stupid door open."
I sighed, rolled out of bed, and stumbled down the dark hall.
"Help me push."
We leaned all our weight against the door, and slowly it began to slide open. "What the hell d'you think's blocking it?" I hissed.
"Dunno. Something big. There, I think that's enough." Said Jordan, sticking his arm through the opening and flicking on the light switch.
That's when I saw the blood.
It was everywhere, running over the moldy grout, staining the yellow tiles, all over everything. I was so shocked by the blood that I didn't even notice that it was coming from Mr. Ralph till Jordan dropped to his knees by the body and picked up the knife. He stared down at him, at the deep cuts running from wrist to elbow, then down at the knife, then up at me. He looked bleached and terrified.
"He's not breathing." He said.
I swallowed hard, "What do we do?"
"I-I don't know." He dropped the knife and stared at the palms of his hands, turning tacky with blood. "I don't know."
* * * A/N: sorry it's so short please review!