And I really don't wanna hear, about her feet all up in the air.
I've been angry before.
I've been angry recently.
I have had times where my blood boiled.
Grinding my teeth, clenching my fists.
I know what anger is like.
The rush before the migraine.
The wide eyes and the bulging veins.
The rapid heartbeat and the chest pain.
Believe me, I've known anger.
But in that very moment, seeing the wounds on Becky's face, it wasn't anger.
In fact, it felt like nothing at all.
I didn't feel anything.
My heart was calm, my head was calm, it was easy to breathe, I felt as if nothing was wrong.
I felt hollow, void of all emotions.
There was only thing inside of me.
One.
It wasn't anger.
It wasn't fury.
It was a desire.
A lust, a craving.
An absolute need of something.
I knew what it was.
I could put it into words easily.
Simply put.
"I'm gonna rip his fucking head off."
"No, no, Dean no. Please…just…"
"He did this, didn't he? Becky, who the fuck was that guy? I'm telling you, I am so ready to chase that piece of shit truck down right now and I'll cave his fucking face-"
"My dad, alright? It was my dad."
"Wha…what?"
"That… he was my dad."
"Becky…you can't…"
"I… I didn't know he was coming. I didn't know… don't know why…But it's alright, we're fine now we…"
"Alright?"
"Alri- yeah. We're alright, and-"
"Alright?!"
"Yea…y-yeah…please don't…yell…I'm sorry Dean I-"
I dropped the script on the ground, and jumped over the front steps.
I didn't let her say another word before I held her as tightly as I could.
"Don't you dare apologize Becky. Don't you dare say you're sorry."
I could feel her hands barely try to separate us.
"D-Dean…it's…it's….stop…"
The more I felt her wiggle, the tighter I squeezed her.
"Let…g-go….D-Dean…come on…"
"No. I'm not letting you go."
She started using her elbows to try and pry me off.
But I held onto her like how Nikki held onto me.
I cradled the back of her head in my hand.
"I'm not letting go Becky."
"D-Dean…please…just…just…"
"It's okay Becky."
"N-no it's…stop…stop…"
"It's okay."
"S-stop…p-please…"
Her arms dropped down, she stopped fighting.
Instead she started fighting back her own cries.
"It's okay Becky. I got you."
She would whimper, then stutter her own breaths.
"I'm here. I'm here."
I can feel her nuzzle her face as deep as she could into my shoulder.
"Pl-please…please…"
"I'm here Beck, I'm here."
One cry broke free.
"Please…don't let me go…don't let me go…"
"I'll never let you go."
Her arms shot up, gripping me as high and as tight as she could.
And she began to unload everything into my shoulder.
Her tears, her cries, any and all emotions she had.
I can feel her pain and sadness soak all the way through my shirt, the moisture making its way to my skin.
I can feel her claw and squeeze her hands together, and then at times apply no pressure at all.
Her emotions were flooding out in mixed and erratic patterns, an occasional splash of anger overtaken by a wave of sorrow.
Her eyes a dam, her burdens the water.
First a torrent, but as the water drained it became a stream.
I can feel her begin to finally release, but I never stopped my pressure.
I was going to hold her until the very end.
The cries just became quick breaths and sniffles.
I was still coiled around her as tight as I could.
I never once questioned what I was doing.
I never questioned why I was doing it.
Holding her and letting her cry seemed as obvious as wanting to hurt the man that hurt her.
Seeing her cry would have seemed so weird and felt so out of character for her.
If anything like this happened weeks ago, I know exactly what I would have done.
I would have stepped away, and tried to find someone else to help.
I'd weakly ask her if she was okay, hoping she would power through it on her own.
I wouldn't have considered getting close, even if she asked me too.
But I knew something felt different.
Different about me.
I didn't waste time thinking about it.
I didn't spend a second thinking of what could go wrong.
I didn't start to think about if she wanted me to do it or not.
I just did it.
I knew I had to.
And holding her in those last few moments, I started realizing a couple things I wished it didn't take me this long to realize.
Most of all, I realized I haven't been following my heart in a very long time.
My gut would have backed away.
My brain would have driven away.
But my heart got closer, my heart would have tried to comfort my friend without an ounce of hesitation.
My heart was ready to forgive and forget everything up until now.
And right now, my heart wanted to hug Becky tightly one more time.
And so I did.
"Th-thank you….Dean…th-thank you…"
"Shh shh."
"…..thank you…."
"Shhhh."
I waited for her to be still and to be silent.
I waited for the transition when the hug turned from something she needed into something she wanted.
I can feel and hear her take one long deep breath in through her nose, and letting it out just as slowly.
That's when I knew.
She was calm. She was done crying.
But she didn't start to let go, instead she held on just as tight.
I told her I was never going to let her go, and I had no intentions of it.
I would only let her go once she let go of me.
Her breaths were so subtle I could no longer hear them over the breeze.
Every now and then, she would adjust and nuzzle her face again.
And every time she did, I would readjust my grip on her hair.
Holding her there, I started thinking about her from the day I first met her. And the different iterations of her since.
The shy girl who hid in her knees.
The blunt artist who would cuss at me.
The coworker opening herself up for the first time.
The partner who would try to climb on my lap.
The friend that wanted to help.
Rebecca, and then Becky.
Feeling the breeze, sharing the embrace, I realized the woman clutched in my arms was none of them.
The woman clutching me back wasn't them either.
None of them really were Rebecca. None of them were Becky.
This was Rebecca. This was Becky.
I had to see her at her some of her worst.
To see who she is.
To know how I feel about her.
And in that moment, I wasn't so sure I would let her go even if she did.
"I…I think I'm okay now Dean."
She started slowly sliding out beneath my arms.
And so I finally released her from my grip, letting her back herself away.
Once she took a whole step back, she kept her head hung low, not facing me.
"You sure Beck?"
"Yeah…yeah I'm good."
She awkwardly took another step to the side, still hiding her face from me.
"Becky, let me see."
"No no…it's…I'm good. Thank you Dean for-"
"Please Becky, let me see."
She swung her arms by her waist, clenching her fists.
But slowly, she looked up at me.
As her hair fell to the side, I could see the purple welts on her cheeks, the bruises around her eye, the blood at the corner of her mouth.
I could see how red her eyes were, without any more tears to keep them moist.
The first time I saw it, my heart ignited with anger and hatred.
Looking at it now, it became drowned in sorrow.
While she may have been facing me, her eyes continued to drift off to the side. Never making contact with me at all.
"Dean, I promise I'm fine now. Let's just-"
I raised my left hand and gently caressed her right cheek.
With one slight touch, I pushed her attention onto me.
Her head began to resist me, allowing me to fully grip her face with my hand.
I can see her blink slowly, pushing out one more tear.
I began to raise my other hand on her other cheek, but the slightest touch made her wince.
Pushing her face deeper into my other hand, shutting her eyes tight.
I backed my hand away, waiting for her.
But once her eyes slowly opened up, she didn't look towards my hand or look away.
She kept looking straight at me.
She loosened her jaw, and unclenched her teeth.
She took steady breaths through her nose, relaxing onto my other hand.
She looked down for a moment, before I could feel her hand on mine.
Bringing it up towards her other cheek, nestling it softly on her at her own pace.
That was the first time I saw her hands, her knuckles raw and bloody.
But with her face cradled in my palms, it looked like she started to smile.
And it felt like the first smile I ever saw her do.
I used my thumbs to gently wipe her eyes, sweeping away any remnants of the tears that began to dry.
Her skin feeling warmer and warmer with every motion.
Once they felt dry, I wanted to clean the blood from her mouth.
With one dab of my thumb, the tip now caked in dark red, I knew I needed more than a finger.
I can see her shift her attention to my thumb, and then down again.
The blood embarrassing her.
I quickly gripped her cheeks and chin, trying to keep her focus on me.
"Hey."
Her eyes darted.
I said to her again softer
"Hey."
She looked at me for a second, before her eyes began to dart again.
With a slight pull, bringing her face forward, I got her attention.
"Hey."
With quivering lips, she said
"H-hey?"
I took one last moment to look at her.
Her cheeks in my hands, her eyes weren't dry.
But the blood on her mouth and her hands were now my focus.
I can feel a breeze from the blues push me in towards her, taking the next step for me.
I lowered my hands from her face, but I flipped my grip onto her bloody hand.
Holding it softly, keeping her fingers and knuckles on the outside of my grip.
I took one more deep breath in, hoping the blues would guide me once more.
And as I let the blues back out, and with one more look at Becky, I told her
"Let's get you cleaned up."
She guided me inside, our entire path cluttered with broken glass and furnishings.
I can see the spots on the walls where pictures and decorations used to be, in which they were now smashed on the floor.
Climbing over broken furniture, she brought me into a small downstairs bathroom.
"I think we have some stuff in here."
She tried reaching up to the medicine cabinet, but her arm could only go so high.
"Shit…"
"What's wrong?"
"My…my arms. I…they're too sore to…"
"It's alright, I got it."
Inside the cabinet was a plastic baggie with numerous opened boxes of mixed bandages, alongside a bag of alcohol wipes.
I was as good as a nurse as I was a football player, but I could figure these out at least.
"These should do, got somewhere we can sit down?"
"Uhh…yeah, probably the kitchen."
I followed her out, noticing a limp as well.
"Your legs bothering you too?"
"Not…not as much…"
A couple corners later, we came into the kitchen.
All the chairs were upside down, and the table was on its side.
It looked like a hurricane had its way in here.
"Dean…um…would you mind setting up the chairs?"
"Of course."
I corrected two chairs, and pulled the table back up.
"Here Beck, you sit here."
"Okay."
She slowly lowered herself down, her body trying to find the best way to sit comfortably alongside all her discomfort.
I opened up the bags, getting ready to treat what I could.
I figured I'd start with the easiest and most obvious thing, her lip.
I took out one wipe, and sat down in the chair in front of her.
"Alright, here we go. Let me know if this hurts."
"Okay."
I softly dabbed the blood, testing the pressure.
She didn't wince or blink.
I pressed a little harder, and she still had no reaction.
And so, I started wiping the blood away.
"So. You wanna tell me what happened?"
"…not really."
I folded in the wipe and prepared a clean corner.
"I don't wanna force you Becky. But I just want to understand what is going on."
"I get that…but…"
"But?"
"…"
I folded in the wipe again, getting the last clean section ready.
"…I didn't know he was coming."
"That guy? Your father?"
"Yeah. If I did, I wouldn't have bothered asking you to come here. I would have waited."
"But what happened Becky?"
"…he was looking for money."
The wound on her lip was clean, already forming a small scab I couldn't wipe away.
I grabbed another fresh wipe, and started wiping down her whole face.
"Money? From you?"
"Yeah. Someone told him our new comic was popular, so he thought that means I got some bonus or something."
"And he thought you would give it to him?"
"No."
I can see her look towards something on the ground.
I followed her eyes, leading me to a purse in the corner.
"He knew he was gonna have to take it from me."
"Why…just…why?"
"Because he thinks I owe him."
I grabbed a dry napkin and dried her face as softly as I could.
"Ever since I was a kid. He always thought me being born means I owe my life to him."
"You're kidding?"
"No. 'You wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for me' and 'you have any idea how much I did for you?'"
"I can't believe that."
"Even though he gladly gave me up when I was eight years old. He thinks I owe him every penny I make for the eight awful years I was under his roof."
Her voice was so solid and stoic.
I was more and more horrified with every word she said, but I did everything I could to not show it.
But yet, she was telling me these things as if she was simply placing an order of food.
"He still doesn't believe I make a lot of money. If it wasn't for one of these bumpkin shitheads running their mouths, he wouldn't have ever shown up. And yet, he was still ready to take what he thought was everything anyway."
"Have you given him money before?"
"Nope. I never gave him a dime. But my grandma caves in."
I bundled up the wipes and napkins into a pile.
While I did though, I kept pondering about where we were.
I thought Becky was about tell me her father was taking most of her money, which would explain her current living conditions.
But when she said she never gave him anything, it left me curious still.
"But this time around, he was worse. Drunker and stupider than he ever was before."
The next obvious wound was her bloody knuckles.
I gently gripped her wrist, and brought it up slowly.
She was able to bend it up just below the table before I could see her struggle.
I left her hand there, while I grabbed another wipe.
"He came storming in, and when I stood in his way he shoved me aside."
I started rubbing the blood away from her knuckles.
"He looked for that purse first, and when he didn't see any cash he started heading towards my grandma."
At this point, she started squeezing my hand.
"I screamed and yelled at him, and eventually I grabbed his arm."
She squeezed my hand super tightly, reopening her knuckles and causing them to bleed again.
"And just like that, he whipped his hand around and smacked me. I remember hearing him call me an ungrateful bitch as I went down."
I applied more pressure down as I treated her hand, trying to stop the bleeding as I wiped it away.
"And in that moment, I was scared. If he was that…willing to do it to me…I…I couldn't let him get to my grandma."
She was gripping my hand so tightly, I had to grit my teeth as the bones painfully shifted around.
"So I…lost it. I tackled his legs…got him to the ground…and beat the shit out of him."
I started just pressing down on her knuckles as hard as I could.
Knowing now why they were bleeding.
"But he was so fucked up I don't think he could comprehend all the pain. He was able to stand back up, and he started tossing me around."
I doubled up the wipe, the blood starting to soak through.
"I…I felt it everytime. But…I didn't stop. I punched and kicked and tripped him up as much as I could. We were fighting all over the house. He could barely stand on his own feet, giving me a chance."
Her blood began to soak my hand, but I didn't want to let go.
"Asking me where my pencils are now. Calling me a useless little girl."
What I thought was an itch in my cheek, was actually a tear forming in my eye.
"Just like how he used to when I was a kid."
And just like that, she let go.
Her hands and skin loosened up, the flow of blood freezing in place.
I used my shoulder to wipe my tear away before she could see it, and in the same motion grabbing more wipes.
"Near the end, he tried going up the stairs. I was in front of him, and he hit me hard."
She looked towards the very same staircase.
"As he tried stomping over me, I was able to grab a glass thing my grandma had on the wall, and I smashed it over his head."
Her head bobbled up and down slightly, matching his tumbling body.
"He fell backwards down the stairs, and thats the last I saw of him. I heard his truck but then I heard the knocking. But I was in too much pain to move."
She looked back at me.
"But I thought of grandma again, so I got up, ready to keep fighting. But…it was you instead."
I just finished wiping the rest of the fresh blood away.
"I'm…really happy it was you Dean."
I wanted to look at her, I wanted to relish in what she said.
But somehow, getting the answers didn't help.
It made everything worse.
Everything made sense now, the story was told.
But knowing Becky was apart of this, basically fighting for her life, it was closure I didn't want.
Now I know what the glass shattering was, now I know what the thumping was, now I know why he was bleeding from his forehead.
It was Becky.
Now I know why the house was a wreck… it was Becky.
Now when I saw the furniture on the ground, I could see Becky's body being thrown over it.
I could see Becky's body and head bouncing off violently from the walls.
I could see her small hands being used as weapons.
The rocks in my heart and my stomach felt like they merged, forming a gigantic sickening lump in my body.
It was getting impossible to ignore it, I didn't want to show how it affected me.
I wanted to remain strong for her, I wanted to stay strong in front of her.
I thought I could be as strong as I was when I held her in my arms.
But yet, the burden of understanding it seemed to be too heavy.
I couldn't believe this was Becky.
I couldn't believe this happened to her.
I couldn't believe this was happening to her.
And I just couldn't fathom this has been happening to her for this long.
I tried reaching up to grab the bandages, my hand and arms feeling useless.
But as I looked up, I could see her freshly cleaned up face.
And somehow, she was smiling at me.
"Here Beck, let me wrap your hand up."
"Okay."
With two layers of gauze, I did what I could for her knuckles.
"Alright, is that feeling okay?"
"Yeah, it's alright."
"How's your other hand?"
"It's fine."
She showed it to me, showing no major damage.
"Okay, is anything else bothering you?"
"I mean…yeah but I can just walk it off."
She used the table to stand herself up.
I looked down at her legs to see how much she was struggling.
But a little bit above her knee, I could see a dark stain.
"Whoa whoa Beck, what's this?"
"Huh?"
"This, on your-"
"Aah! Don't touch it!"
"Sorry! Sorry!"
She quickly sat back down, covering it with her hands.
"Son of a…ah."
"Beck, you're bleeding there too."
"I…I didn't notice it until now."
"Come on, let me see."
"No, it hurts."
"I know, that's why I wanna see it."
"No, you're gonna touch it."
"I mean…yeah but I have to make sure."
"It's fine…it's…ah…it's fine."
"Come on Beck, you can do it. I need you to be strong for me a little longer."
"…"
"It's alright, I promise."
"…alright…just…be careful."
"Of course."
She moved her hands away, some fresh blood painted to her palms.
The dark stain became brighter, and started spreading slowly.
Trying not to get too close, I pinched her pants inches away from it and pulled.
A tear in her pants spread open, revealing a piece of glass embedded in her leg.
"What is it?"
"It's glass. You have a big piece there in your leg, how did you not notice it?"
"I don't know, maybe the adrenaline wore off."
"Alright, well…do you have a pair of tweezers?"
"Whoa, you're gonna pull it out?"
"…yeah? Duh?"
"But-but-but I thought you aren't supposed to pull shit out?"
"I mean it's about an inch big, but I think it's plenty small enough to take out."
"You think?!"
"It's like a big sliver, but I don't want it breaking into pieces either. We gotta get it out so we can wrap your leg."
"Oh fuck me."
"Hey hey hey, you'll be okay. I promise."
"It's…it's gonna hurt…isn't it?"
"For a second. But it'll feel so much better once it's out."
"…you….you sure?"
"Yes."
"…okay…okay…"
"Okay. Now, where are the tweezers?"
"Uhh….fuck I….uh…."
"You don't know?"
"No, I…. I know I have some in my room but…"
"But?"
"But…I don't know where in my room."
"Alright, alright. Are they in a certain drawer or-"
"I don't know, I have to look."
"Well where is your room?"
"It's upstairs."
"Really?"
"Uh…yeah? Why, is it weird to have an upstairs bed-"
"Beck, you can barely walk."
"Wha- no no. I can wa- fuck."
"See? You can't put any weight on it. You're just making it bleed more."
"F-fuck, alright but you'll never find them yourself."
"So I'll just carry you."
"You'll-fucking-what?"
"Let me carry you."
"Dean, you aren't being serious."
"I am. I'm not leaving that glass in your leg."
"But..but…"
"You aren't heavy, I know I can carry you all the way."
"That's not…that's not the point."
"What's the point then?"
"I…I just…"
"Beck."
"What?"
"We're partners, right?"
"Wha-huh?"
"We're partners, remember?"
"…yeah…"
"We gotta work together, right?"
"…yeah…"
"So we gotta work together here, okay?"
"…okay…"
"Okay. I carry you, you find the tweezers, boom. Done deal."
"Okay. Alright."
"Alright. Ready?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Okay, I'm gonna scoop you up under your legs, let me know if it hurts too much."
"Okay…okay…"
"There you go, that okay?"
"Uh…yeah…"
"Alright, hold on to me. I'm gonna lift you."
"Uh…Jesus, okay."
"You okay?"
"Y-yeah…y-yeah…"
"You sure?"
"Hmm-mmm."
"Okay, here we go. One, two…"
"Ah-ah-ah."
"I got you. I got you. Is your leg okay?"
"Y….yeah…yeah…it's okay. Um…"
"What is it?"
"N-nothing…n-nothing…I'm….i'm good. Are you sure I'm not too heavy?"
"Absolutely. Now, where's your room?"
"Okay, that one is my room. Just don't judge me, okay?"
"Don't worry, I'll judge you later."
"Ass."
I reached for the door knob, and had just enough room to push it open keeping her in my arms.
As the door slowly creaked open, I was worried that her room was gonna be a wreck too.
But the door swung by itself all the way open, revealing a perfectly in tact room.
The walls were pure black, every different trim a different color.
For a second I thought I was walking into the Dark Side Of The Moon.
"Whoa, nice place Beck."
"Thanks."
"And I can walk in it without tripping, it's amazing."
"You suck."
"I know."
I walked her over to her bed in the corner and placed her down as gently as I could.
"Ah-ah-ah."
"You okay?"
"Y-yeah, yeah…"
"Alright, where do you think the tweezers are?"
"Umm…."
She looked around all over the room. Even looking up into the ceiling.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to remember the last time I used them."
"So what are you looking up for?"
"I'm just- Shutup."
I took a quick glance around myself.
I can see on the opposite end of the room was a proper easel next to what looked like a makeup stand.
"Maybe somewhere over here?"
I walked towards it, starting to see a cluttered mess of brushes and products.
"I didn't know you wore this much makeup Beck."
"I don't."
"Then what's all this for?"
"It's not makeup, it's watercolors."
I looked back down, and quickly realized what I thought was tiny containers of makeup was in fact different colors of paint.
"The makeup stand is perfect for storing all my paints and shit."
"Huh, I got'cha. That's pretty clever."
I picked up one of the small containers.
On it, it said 'ocean blue'.
"So you paint with watercolors?"
"Yeah. Sometimes."
"Cool, just for fun?"
"Not always. Actually, flip up that first page on the easel."
She pointed towards the easel tucked away in the corner.
Instead of a standard canvas, a large book of blank pages was stored on it.
I flipped up the hard outer cover, revealing a large blurry mess of different shades of blues and greens.
And underneath the puddle, was a blurrier flesh toned face.
"That was how I practiced the female character."
"Wow, this is really cool Beck."
"I use the watercolor if I'm ever unsure of something first. It's actually how I got that one picture that got me the job."
"No shit, really? It was watercolors?"
"Yup. I went through like two of those whole books trying to get it right. But once I finally got it, I scanned it and that's how I submitted it."
"No way, you're just telling me now?"
"I don't know, it never came up."
"I'm still blown away, this is all super cool."
"Thanks. Actually, while you're over there, I think the tweezers might be on the easel somewhere. I remember having to pluck out a hair or something that got on it."
"Got'cha."
I started skimming the easel up and down, checking every nook and cranny.
Just behind the dirty water cup, was a small pair of black tweezers.
"Got 'em."
"Okay, so….what's the plan?"
"I pull it out and wrap it up."
"Alright, fair enough."
I was knelt down in front of her, my tools and supplies next to her on the bed.
"Alright, this'll be quick."
"Okay."
I brought in the tweezers, quickly realizing the glass wasn't as visible.
"Shit."
"Shit? Shit!? Why shit?!"
"Nothing, nothing. I just can't really see it."
"What do you mean you can't see it?!"
"Your pants are covering it up, can you just help and spread the hole for me?"
"Can I what?"
"Like, the hole in your pants. Can you just spread it open a little bit so I can get to the glass?"
"Oh…uh…m-maybe?"
She put her hands on her lap, but I can see her struggling to grip anything.
"F-fuck, I don't know If I can Dean."
"You sure?"
"Y-yeah. I still can't really feel my arms and hands and…honestly I'm feeling a little light-headed at this point."
"Alright, alright. Umm…."
I used one hand to see if I can maneuver the hole enough to get the tweezers in.
But the jeans soaked in her blood weren't ready to easily cooperate.
I placed my hands over the wound, her pants and skin feeling flush with each other.
I didn't want to tell her, but that means the glass was either smaller than I thought or worse and deeper in than I thought.
I was gonna remain calm. I was gonna stay positive.
But panic started setting in.
I wasn't too concerned about her losing too much blood, but if she was already feeling light-headed that ship might have sailed.
Calling 911 was the obvious choice, but I had no idea how long it would take for an ambulance to get here.
And I knew calling them would freak her out, not helping us out any. I'd have to do what I can and then get her to a doctor.
So I had to think.
I had to get the glass out.
But her pants were in the way.
I didn't have any scissors.
I didn't have any razors.
I couldn't cut some of them away.
Even if I did, what good would wrapping her leg do if it wasn't tight?
While I'm sitting here contemplating she's sitting here bleeding.
Think.
Think.
Glass.
Leg.
Pants.
Glass.
Leg.
Pants.
Glass.
Pants.
Glass.
Pants.
Glass….
…
…p-pants?
…
Oh boy.
"Um…B-Beck?"
"Yeah?"
"…um…."
"Oh no, what is it? Is it bad? Is it the femoral?"
"No..no…but…"
"Deeeeean you're scaring me. Come on, what is it?"
"I…"
"What?"
"Fuck, you're gonna hate me."
"Just what is it Dean?"
"Look, I can get the glass out easily and can wrap it up easily."
"Wha-okay, so what the fuck are you waiting for?"
"But I have to take your pants off first."
"Okay, you have to- what…."
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…fuck, whatever….do it."
"Okay..uh…c-can you at least-"
"I can't do anything Dean…just…just…do everything. Stop talking."
"O-okay…o-okay-"
"Oh my god, shut up! Just don't say another word, please."
She lied down on the bed, and closed her eyes.
I knew I had to work fast, but I couldn't convince my hands and fingers of that.
Every step was obvious.
Undo the button and zipper.
Pull them down just past her knees.
Take out the glass.
Dress the wound.
Pull them back up.
Done.
Simple.
So why in the fuck will my hands and fingers not move?
Why does it feel like i'm trying to swallow my own tongue?
I began feeling like when she first sat on my lap.
My senses were heightened.
My heart was beating too rapidly.
My brain would be thinking of one thing, but my heart and my body were acting different.
I kept trying to focus on the steps.
Nothing but the steps.
Button and Zipper.
Pull Down.
Glass.
Bandage.
Pull up.
Button and Zipper.
Pull Down.
Glass.
Bandage.
Pull Up.
Button and zipper.
You're taking her pants off.
Pull down.
You disgusting pervert.
Glass.
You'll see her panties.
Bandage.
This is so unnecessary.
Pull up.
She doesn't want you to do this.
Button and zipper.
You'll embarrass her to death.
Pull down.
You're stripping Rebecca.
Glass.
You'll be able to smell her.
Bandage.
Isn't she in enough pain?
Pull up.
Just another man for her to hate.
Button and zipper.
In what world does this make sense?
Pull down.
You just want an excuse to do this.
Glass.
You're glad this happened to her.
Bandage.
You're happy she's hurt.
Pull up.
You finally get to do this.
Button and zipper.
She's vulnerable.
Pull down.
She owes you.
Glass.
She'll never talk to you again.
Bandage.
Saving her life isn't good enough.
Pull up.
You aren't good enough.
You aren't good enough.
She'd rather die.
She'd rather writhe.
She would never let you do this.
You're just another disgusting man.
You're not her friend anymore.
"Dean?"
She never wants to see you again.
"Dean?"
You're pathetic.
"Dean?"
You're aren't a hero.
"Dean?"
You're nothing.
"Dean!"
…
…
…
"Dean!"
"H-huh?"
"Dean…what the fuck are you doing?"
"I…I…"
"Dean, please. I need you."
"…huh?"
"Come on, I really need you right now."
"…uh…I…"
"Look, it's okay. Here, give me your hands."
"…."
"Alright, okay, there…just…grip the button…"
"…"
"Okay…uh…fuck…okay…now the…the…zipper."
"…"
"Oh my god…okay…this is happening…okay…just…p-pull them down…come on Dean just…there you go…"
"…"
"There you- ah!"
"H-huh?!"
"N-nothing…nothing…it just…hurt for a second."
"Beck?"
"Y-yeah?"
"What is- whoa."
"Whoa? Whoa? What are you whoa-ing for?"
"When- uh…huh."
"You mother fucker, stop making noises. You better not be staring at anything."
"I'm not. I'm not."
"Okay, whatever. Just let me know when you are about to take the fucking glass out."
"I don't have to."
"You don't- what? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't have to let you know."
"What the in fuck are you talking about? I don't want you to yank the thing without telling me first."
"Too late."
"What?"
"Too late."
"What do you mean too…"
"I already got it out."
"Jesus…really?"
"Yeah. Look."
"Whoa. Damn, I didn't even feel you do it."
"Yeah, it actually wasn't that big or deep. You just bleed a lot."
"Oh geez, thanks."
"Alright, you can relax again. I'll wrap it up quickly, then we'll get you down to a doctor."
"For what?"
"Come on, you seriously don't think what I'm doing is good enough, right?"
"Uhh…"
"Come on Beck."
"Well I'm fine with what you are- ah-ah-ah what the fuck?"
"I'm wiping the blood away first."
"What the fuck, why does that hurt more than the glass?"
"The alcohol in the wipe probably."
"Hurr durr 'the alcohol in the wipe' he says, hurr durr."
"You asked."
"I fucking know why, it just sucks."
"I know. I know."
"But seriously, we don't have to right?"
"You should Beck. Just to be safe. Alright, let me know if this is bandage too tight."
"I get that but I feel like it's not worth the-whoa-ah-ah."
"Too tight?"
"Ye-yeah."
"Sorry. Just one more layer."
"Look, it's just been a…stressful day. I wanna just stay with you- uh I mean stay here. You know?"
"I get that Beck, I do. But I can't live with myself if you get an infection or something."
"I won't. I won't. Plus I still need to check on Grand- oh fuck my grandma."
"Oh shit, where is she?"
"She should still be in her room, god she's probably scared shitless."
"I'm almost done here, we can go see her in a second."
"Alright."
"…"
"…"
"Hey…Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Umm…as hard as it may be…can you try and not let her know about anything that happened?"
"What?"
"Like…don't say anything about the house or what he did to me. I don't want her to know."
"Beck, we shouldn't lie to her. Plus, she's gonna see you and the house eventually."
"I know, I know. But…fuck, please?"
"What's the point of lying to her now?"
"Because… she doesn't need the extra stress. It'll make sense, I promise you. Just…follow my lead. Okay?"
"I don't know Beck."
"Dean, I'm begging you. Please."
"That's asking a lot."
"I know, I know. Just this once…okay?"
"….alright. Alright. Fine."
"Thank you Dean, seriously."
"Alright. Here, let me just tape this off and…that should do it."
"Good to go?"
"Depends. How you feeling?"
"I mean, I'm feeling better. I don't feel as light headed and it doesn't feel like it's bleeding anymore."
"We'll see about that. Can you put any weight on it?"
"Uh…I don't know."
"That means put some weight on it."
"I know but…"
"But?"
"My…"
"Huh?"
"My..pants Dean."
"Oh."
"It still hurts to move my arms, I still can't really grip anything with my fingers."
"Alright, alright. I got you. Just lie down, I'll pull them back up."
"Okay…ah."
"What was that? Does it still hurt?"
"No no…nothing..nothing…you're…uh…you're hands were cold. That's all."
"My hands were-huh? I was just touching your leg, you never said they were-"
"Shut up."
"Okay, okay. There, you're good to go."
"Cool."
"Comfortable?"
"Yeah, it's not bad."
"Go ahead, step on that foot. Not the full weight, just hanging off the bed."
"Okay…ah…"
"How does it feel?"
"Not…not bad."
"Really?"
"Yeah, not great but not bad. Here, help me stand up."
"Okay, slowly. Slowly. How's that?"
"Uh….it's alright. Just feels…sore honestly."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Leagues better than before, that's for sure."
"Here, take a step with me."
"Okay-ah-ah."
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Alright, let go of me for a sec-"
"No no, don't let me go!"
"Whoa, whoa, okay, okay. I got you. You alright?"
"Uh…"
"Becky? You still can't stand on it?"
"I…I'm just nervous."
"It's alright, I'm right here."
"Okay."
"Take my hand, and try that."
"Okay…uh…ah…"
"How's it feel?"
"I mean, the more weight I put on it, the more it hurts."
"Does it hurt really bad?"
"Yea-no…no."
"Okay, I won't force you then."
"Huh?"
"You can use me to walk."
"Use you to walk?"
"Yeah. Or would you rather me carry you again."
"You suck."
"I know."
"Alright, this is my Grandma's room. Like I said, please don't tell her anything."
"Alright."
She knocked on the door, opposite down the hallway from where her own bedroom was.
"Gigi? It's me, Becky. And my friend. Can we come in?"
She leaned against the door, listening for a response.
"Okay, we are coming in."
She slowly turned the doorknob, pushing open the creaky door.
As the door slid open, no light or color came out.
The room was dark.
And once the door was fully open, I could still barely see into the room.
"Hey Gigi, it's us."
Becky had her arm wrapped around my back, using me as support.
As she took one step forward, I followed her step.
Two steps in, my eyes adjusted to the darkness.
The windows were boarded up from inside, as well dark curtains draped over them.
The only source of light a small bedside lamp, as well as a small monitor glowing green.
Over the shuffling of our feet, all I could hear was a slow and steady beep.
Beep.
Beep.
And as we stepped closer, the green from the monitor became solid straight lines that spiked with every beep.
A heart monitor?
A couple more steps in, we came to the foot of a large bed.
From the monitor, I could see the various cords and lines form a trail.
Alongside them, clear tubes that came from a silver tank on the floor.
I followed the cords up, leading up to the head of the bed.
Underneath the sheets, laid an elderly woman, with oxygen being fed into her nose.
Her eyes were closed, she seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
I could see the cords from the monitor lead into her loose shirt, and from her shirt large black tribal tattoos traveled from her chest up onto her neck.
Becky leaned forward, and gently tapped on her arm.
"Gigi. Hey, Gigi. It's me."
Before her eyes fully opened up, the old woman spoke to her with a low and raspy voice.
"You muskrat, I was sleeping."
"Gigi, this is my friend Dean."
"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am."
"The fuck you just call me? I haven't been called ma'am in decades, come give me a hug young man."
Becky leaned up against the bed, so I could bend down and try to hug her.
"I have heard so much about you Dean, I'm so glad to finally meet you."
"If it was Becky, I bet most of it wasn't good."
She let out a dry laugh, which led to a couple drier coughs.
Becky shuffled us over to the bedside table, grabbing a glass full of water.
"Here Gigi, drink."
"Come on you skunk, I don't drink that shit."
"You do when you're coughing you hoebag."
"Alright alright, fair enough."
With two shaky hands, she took a couple sips of the water.
"Thank you honey, now get this shit away from me."
"How you feeling Gigi?"
"Eh. Not as bad as a bad day but not good enough for a good day."
"Okay. Anything I can do for you?"
"Nah, I'm- Beck, what happened to your face?"
"Uh…"
"Oh my god you…your leg! What the fuck happ-"
She went into another large coughing fit, the heart monitor starting to spike.
"Gigi, it's okay. Calm down. Calm down."
She let go of me, and used the bed to crawl towards her.
She started lifting her up, and rubbing her back.
She stayed with her until the coughing fit was over.
"Son of a…gah I hate when that happens."
"You just need to not get worked up."
"Well then you need to not be whatever the fuck you are right now. What happened to you, my god!"
"Look, I'm good, but I may have fallen down the stairs."
"Fallen down the- fuck off no you didn't."
"I swear to God. Dean showed up right on time to catch me."
She looked up at me, getting the grandmother's attention as well.
"Right Dean?"
I know now what her eyes meant, the way she looked at me.
A plead. Begging for me to play along.
I didn't want the first thing I ever did to her grandmother was lie and cover up the horror story.
But as the dark room and medical equipment made blatantly obvious, that stress would do much more harm than good.
Becky said it would make sense. And she was right.
"Yup. Almost took me out with her."
The grandmother took one of her hands and lightly smacked the back of Becky's head.
"Jesus, it's bad enough you almost kill yourself, don't kill him too you runt."
"You think you're mad now? I might have taken out that glass thing you had on the way down."
"Glass thing? What glass thing?"
"Whatever it was, Dean had to pull it out of my leg here."
"Oh for the love of- Dean. Thank you for keeping this little hippo alive. Beck, are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm good now. Dean took good care of me."
"I did what I could ma'am. I'll bring her to a doctor just to make sure her leg is good to go."
"Thank the fuck to God you're here, I don't know what I would have done if Becky slapsticked her way to the afterlife."
She let out a strong laugh, with a strong toothless grin to boot.
Her burst of happiness infected Becky, who started to laugh as well.
For a second, I forgot where I was and what happened in the last hour.
And so I joined them, laughing and smiling as if everything truly was okay.
"Well, I'll make it easy on you Dean. I got one of my doctor's coming in for a checkup later on anyway, she can patch up Becky when she's here."
"Oh shit, who's coming today?"
"I'm pretty sure it's Jennie."
"Oh fuck, Jennie always gets here early."
She scurried off the bed, and hurried past me. Dragging her leg behind her.
"Whoa Beck, where you going? Don't you need me to-"
"Yeah, get everything ready for her Becky. Maybe she'll go easy on us this time."
"Got'cha. I'll be right back Dean, I'm good. "
And with that, the door was shut and I was left alone with the grandmother in the dark.
"So Dean, have a seat."
"Oh…uh…okay ma'am."
Behind me was a small chair next to the bedside table.
I took a step back and sat down in it.
"No no no, pull it up to the bed. If you don't mind."
"Oh, sure thing ma'am."
"And quit it with the ma'am. Call me Gigi."
"Okay ma-er…Gigi."
I scooted the chair forward, up until my knees were almost flush with the bed.
"When Becky was a little girl, still learning to talk, she couldn't say grandma or anything like that."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, all her little mouth could get out was 'gee-gee' and it stuck."
"Got'cha, that's adorable."
"I know, I love it. I know it looks like I give her a hard time, but I love her more than anything on this planet. She gives it right back, so it's okay."
"Ofcourse."
"I knew in this world, knowing to give it back would be important. I was never able to teach her much, but if I could at least teach her to defend herself I thought she'd be alright."
"Absolutely. I'd say you did a great job."
"Oh yeah?"
"Oh yeah."
She chuckled a little bit, and continued to smile at me.
"Dean, can you be a doll and hand me that glass of water?"
"Sure."
"Thank you hon."
I handed her the water, and she proceeded to drink all of it.
"Whew, there we go. Thank you Dean."
"Ofcourse, no problem."
I took the cup from her and put it back on the table.
"So it was her father, wasn't it?"
"Wha-uh…n-no. She really fell-"
"Dean, sweety. I know you're a good man, a good friend to her. I know she told you to lie about it, but please. It was her father, right?"
"…"
"I won't freak out or anything. She won't know you told me. God, there is so much she doesn't know I know already."
"…"
"I know I'm asking you to violate her trust or whatever, but she's my granddaughter. I need to know."
"…yes. It was."
"God, that's what I thought. I could hear his piece of shit truck from a mile away."
"But ma-er…Gigi…how come-"
"I know there's a lot to explain Dean, I know. But first, just tell me what you know about what happened."
"Well…I guess he came here looking for money from Becky. Something about he overheard about the new comic and thought she got a bonus."
"Of course he did. As if his bum ass knows anything."
"When he got here, he shoved Becky out of the way when she tried stopping him from coming upstairs."
"He put his fucking hands on her, god I want to fucking kill him. What then?"
"She said she snapped, and attacked him. And…they ended up fighting all over the house."
"Jesus…"
"He tried coming up the stairs, so she smashed the glass over his head and that was the end of it. He left, and I saw him on the way out."
"God, I want to be happy and proud she beat him, but… god I fucking hate that man. What about the glass in her leg?"
"She's not sure. She didn't realize it was there until the adrenaline wore off after I got here."
"You got it out though?"
"Yes. I'm no doctor but I did what I could."
"Bless you Dean, god bless you. Here, let me hold your hand."
"Okay."
"To think of all the bullshit that poor girl goes through, I thank god she has you at least."
"…"
"She really does talk about you, you know. She almost never stops. I know she'd never tell you, I know it's hard to tell. But she looks up to you more than anybody. You mean the world to her."
"…"
"Wanna know an easy way to tell?"
"…how?"
"She lets you call her Becky."