Disclaimer: Don't own YYH. Thank you all reviewers.
Chapter 6: Escape and RefugeI think I lost the guy with the whip. Whew. I can finally rest.
Just relax.
I stop my frantic crawling, and lean up against the nearest stone building. I feel rain sliding down my neck and shirt. It's really uncomfortable.
I sit there for a few seconds, the lowest seconds of my life. I WANT TO DIE. Why is everyone attacking me? What did I do to deserve this? I attacked my dad, sure, but that was in self-defense! What else could I have done? Why are ordinary citizens going out of their way to hurt me?
I shake my head, rub my watery eyes, and start to peel away the leg of my capri away of the whip wound.
The pain is unbelievable, and I have to stop in the process. Finally, I stop, and screw up my courage. I yank it away really fast, and I get a stinging pain, although it doesn't linger. Like they say, better not to draw it out.
I examine the wound. In the darkness, my eyes are pretty much useless. I examine it with my fingers instead.
It hurts slightly, but it feels better now that it has the room to clot, without my pant leg in the way. I run my fingers up and down the hole, and I conclude that it's shaped like a stitch. There is one major cut, and several others branch out from it.
How could that have happened? How could something barely three inches long hurt like such absolute hell?
A realization comes to me. The whip was spiked.
But aren't those illegal?
Yes…it was outlawed over a century ago. The horses were dying before their time, so they outlawed the use of riding spurs and spiked whips. It falls under some clause of the ASPCA.
Why does someone need me so bad that they would even resort to using an illegal weapon?
Why would the even need to? I can't fight now, and I certainly couldn't fight before I met up with Mr. Hair.
Why would they take such a risk, with cops patrolling the streets, hoping to find the thief (me), just to capture a worthless klepto?
It doesn't fit! Why am I so valuable? Who wants to either reach me or capture me? And why so diverse? Why would a speedy thing hit my doorbell and run, and then someone would try to lame me and/or kill me with a car/whip?
I shake my head. If they are somehow connected, and send another reinforcement, I am done. I held out with my dad because I had a weapon, my doorknob. I held out with the car because I heard it before it impacted. I held out with Mr. Hair because he set his own whip on fire.
But I really don't know for sure if they are connected at all. The doorbell was a little weird, but certainly not suspicious.
I doubt he'll make a similar foolish mistake. He'll probably come after me again, once he's recovered.
And I'll be defenseless to stop him.
But what could he possibly want with me?
My money?
No. There's no way he could know. It's in my pocket, and besides, its not enough to risk police capture and a possible assault charge over.
My clothes?
A bloodstained pack of capris and a cheap dollar store shirt? Not likely. I suddenly realize that it wound have been wise to bring a pack of clothes with me. At least I could use something as a bandage.
I suddenly come out of dreams and back to my slash. The bleeding has stopped, but it is still stinging. I think I'll be all right for now. Best to let it heal itself from this point forward.
Can I stand? Before that madman comes after me again?
I try to put weight on my leg by standing slightly.
No good. It is better than before, but still not up to snuff. I can't chance hurting it more.
I could continue to crawl, but crawling with a fractured arm, bruised leg, and bleeding leg is hard enough for a short distance, as I saw first hand, let alone to the bank.
The bank!
When it was last light out, did I not see that I was right near the bank, and that I had wandered in circles? The bank was where I started, right? I couldn't have crawled too far, right?
DAMN! But that guy might still be back there! And I can't go back there. That'd be playing right into his insane hands.
I glance around in the darkness. I notice it has finally stopped raining. That's good.
But what I could really use is a light.
But if I do, the guy will find me.
Great. I'm blind with nowhere in hell to go. Not that I could get anywhere if there was an option anyway…
I sigh, and lay my head back against the wall. Maybe if I sleep it over I'll have healed by morning and I'll finally be all right. Then I could go hide in a bank, right?
I mean, what other options do I have? I could kill myself, crawling around in the dark for a very bleak purpose, or I could damage my leg further by walking on it, and the last option is letting that guy capture me.
All hold prospects I don't want to imagine.
But I have to get out of the open. Mr. Hair could come along at any time.
Against all beliefs (and muscles), I start to crawl. All I need is to find an alley of some sort. I know I said I didn't want to go into an alley, but staying out in the open is even worse. At least this way I could hide in something, and possibly find some much needed resources.
Feeling along the wall, I slither along it, and finally I feel a break in the wall, I turn a 90 degree right, putting my bad arm out in front so I don't run my head into any walls, and continue onward. It turns into a sort of horrible rhythm: I put left leg forward, I put right leg back. Right leg forward, left leg back. It slightly numbs the pain, like biting leather.
Finally, my hand hits solid brick wall, sending a jolt through my hurt elbow, and I can smell garbage around me. This is where I need to be. I can hide from punks and Mr. Hair in this junk.
I make a sharp right, feeling around, and I feel the squishy bags of garbage. Yes!
I pick up one bag with my good arm, and then, checking to see that my bed is squishy enough for a good sleep.
Once I am satisfied, I roll over on my back and drag the bag I am holding over my body for partial cover. I start to drift off instantly.
It may not be sanitary or traditional, but it'll do.
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A beam of sunlight spreads right across my eyes, so that when I open them, I get instant spots.
It was a dream.
I must have fallen asleep in my garden.
When I open my eyes, I'll be at home in my rhododendron.
I open then tentatively, and I am immediately disproved. No way is my shrub this disgusting.
Darn! I thought for a moment this was all false.
I sigh.
The harsh reality of last night comes back to me.
On impulse, I throw off the garbage bag. It would have looked very strange to passerby to see a trash bag launch itself right out of the heap.
Ha. Ha.
Anyway.
I check my leg. It seems to be better. A scab has formed, and that's always a good sign. It's healing the way it should. I'd be in real trouble if it didn't.
All the same, I have never felt so low.
Anyway.
I need a disguise. That guy – maybe he's a stalker. Maybe he already knows everything about my appearance, and the whip wound is also a dead giveaway. I should probably disguise my hair and dress my cut.
And it's all right here, in this dump.
Well, well.
One man's trash is another man's treasure.
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There. I don't have a mirror, but I can tell I look much different.
I found an old shirt in the garbage, and I shredded it up to make a bandage for my legs. And I made rags for both of them, so it will look like something a hobo would wear and not someone who is just trying to hide something on their leg. That would be a dead giveaway.
Sure, neon yellow bandages may look a little strange, not to mention their presence in the trash, but it's better than nothing.
The second thing I have done for a disguise is I spread this black stuff over my hair. It took a while, and I don't know exactly what it is, but I think it now pretty much coats my hair. I guess it looks pretty authentic now. Not to mention I always wanted black hair to begin with.
Now, I look like a regular homeless person with greasy black hair and weird cloth wrapped around my ankles.
Mr. Hair will never find me now.
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A/N Well, review! Thanks everyone, particularly Silverlie, …, and nameless, not to mention my friends. You are so nice!