Prompt #3: Know it's not horror, but I wanted something different xD
It had been a long work day. Long, annoying, but relatively normal. I was ready to peel off my uniform the second I came home, shower off the sweat and grime of the day, and change into something more comfortable.
I needed a drink first, though. My throat was dry enough to desiccate a corpse. Reaching for a beer that I knew I was still a year shy of being legally allowed to drink--but who cares, it's not like I had anyone here to judge me--I froze when I heard a noise upstairs. At first, I heard just ragged breathing and soft, pained whimpers. Then I heard footsteps and the sound of movement. I heard a door slam--it sounded like it came from my bedroom.
'Oh my God, I'm being robbed.' I was stunned. It's not like I really had much to take. I can barely afford this place now that my flaky, fair-weather "friends" and roommates bailed on me, let alone anything to put in it. I wasn't sure whether or not I felt just utterly baffled by the thief's poor choice of victim or legitimately afraid.
I grabbed a kitchen knife to defend myself, though if the thief had a gun I was doomed, and I quietly stalked up the stairs. I did ask myself what the hell I was doing, considering I really didn't think any of my shit was worth fighting for. To be honest, I would've just as easily invited the guy downstairs for what was left of my hot chocolate mix and asked if crime actually didn't pay, or if it paid better than my crap job.
I reached the door to my room and put my ear up to the door. I'm not sure what I expected to hear. A villainous monologue? Maniacal laughter? Sneaky footsteps, perhaps? I heard cussing and breathing that sounded like someone trying not to cry. I pushed open the door as slowly and as carefully as I could. On the bed was a man, about my size, but with a few inches and some decent muscle on him. He had sandy blond hair, and a large bullet wound on his bare torso that he was trying to use a first aid kit on. From the bloody palm-prints on the window sill, I'd assume he got into my place from there. He must've used the tree outside. Adrenaline's one hell of a drug for him to have managed it.
He glanced up and saw me. I recognized those watering, pained, emerald green eyes instantly. "Ethan? Fuck, what happened to you?" It had been five years since I moved away. Up until then, he was my best and closest friend. Most years, my only friend.
"Help me," he pleaded, but I was already rushing to his side. I wasn't exactly fond of the sight of blood, and the wound on my friend was already making me feel queasy, but I had to suck it up for now. If I puked, it would have to be in the toilet, later, not on my friend's open wound.
I grabbed the gauze from his hands and got to work. "How did you even find me here, man?" That was when I noticed that my old friend had some new ink. There was a gang tattoo on his shoulder.
We lived in a bad neighborhood together. Ethan was always more of a scrapper than my mousey-ass and being older, and a decent guy, he looked out for me. We both wanted to get out of that place, but I got out first. His remaining time there must have been even more unkind than I expected.
"Stop looking at me like that." Ethan muttered, hissing in pain. I could see a spark of the fire from our childhood. "I did what I had to do."
I could only nod mutely. "No hospital?"
"Fuck no." He replied quietly. "I'm sorry about the blood on your window and... wherever else I stained up. I was coming by to see you, man. Someone back home told me where you were. I thought maybe I... I dunno. Old memories. I wanted to relive the good ones. Didn't think they'd follow me."
"Are we, uh... going to be expecting visitors then?" I asked anxiously, as I finished patching him up.
Ethan stared at me for a while, then shook his head. "They're not going to follow me, or anyone, again."
I feel a chill at the realization that, yes, my best friend just covertly admitted to being a killer. Only in self-defense--at least, I hope. Still, I could see something familiar in his eyes, some fragment of the guy that stuck by me, closer than a brother. "I'm... glad you're alive." That was all I could say.
Ethan managed a weak smile. "I was going to ask this either way, so, is it cool if I crash here for the night? I mean, I'll understand if you wanna kick me out, but..." He trailed off, glancing down at the bandages on his torso. He might not get far if he left now.
"Yeah. You can stay." I mumbled. I felt guilty. Not just because, if I threw him out, he could very well drop dead, but also because I feel like this is partly my fault. Ethan kept me alive back when we were kids and I kept him out of too much trouble. Maybe he wouldn't have made the choices that led him to this if I had stayed, if we could've gotten out together. I don't know.
Ethan looked uneasy and embarrassed. "... Thanks." That was all he could say.
"However long you need." I added, trying to get an actual smile from him. I missed that smile.
"Thanks." He repeated, and I saw a faint twitch of his lips. Not quite what I was looking for, but I'll take it. Maybe we could figure out how to get him back on track now... or maybe we would just share a few beers, some frozen pizza, and some memories before we went back to our lives. Or maybe there was still some rival gang member after Ethan and they'd come kill us in our sleep and that would be the end of it. I didn't know.
For an instant, I thought about the consequences. I thought about what a smart, self-protective, survivor of a person would do in this situation. I thought about calling cops, and ambulances, and the potential threat to my safety if he stayed. Maybe I'm an idiot, or maybe I'm too loyal, or maybe I just don't care, but all I did after that was help him downstairs to the couch, grab us some food and drinks, and we started to talk.
I owe him my life. If I lost it now by helping him, well, I guess there are worse ways to go out. I didn't know, when we finally passed out downstairs, if either of us was going to wake up again, but just then, I didn't mind. It was kind of a nice thought to think that if it was my last night, at least I wouldn't spend it alone, and maybe that was enough.
Give me all the criticism >~>