She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XXXIX)

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!

———

Though the knife was tucked safely behind him, to Scott it as if a broadsword was strapped to his back.  The closer he drew to Arnie, the heavier it became.  It was silly and he knew it, but the distant sound of sirens were enough to remind him of how serious things had become.

He walked on the far edge of the sidewalk, his feet brushing against the dewy grassy, hoping that there were enough shadows to hide the nature of his injury.  His left hand remained firmly pressed against the wound, holding back the contents that were once safely contained behind his flesh.  And, with the ‘other’ doing whatever it was doing to him, the blood no longer ran down his side.

Arnie’s head suddenly jerked in his direction and he took two fearful steps away.

“W-who’s there,” he yelled much louder than he had probably intended.

Scott didn’t answer.  He was too tired.  He concentrated instead on moving one leg before the other as he continued to narrow the distance between them.  Some rational part of him calculated twenty feet left before Arnie saw him, and what was left found it funnier than it should have been.

“Come on,” Arnie whined.  “This isn’t funny.  You’re scaring the bejeepers outta me!”

Arnie’s pleas only furthered the insanity that had taken root in his mind, which gave way to an escalating series of giggles.  Each vibration sent waves of pain shooting up his spine, but with the ‘other’ in control and him pushed into the back of his mind, he only vaguely felt it.  He knew that the pain was like nothing he had ever felt, but it only registered as if it were a paper-cut on the mend.

“Scott?!  OH MY GOD!”

He knew he was tired, but he still cursed himself when he realized that he had weaved into the range of a nearby street lamp.  Arnie recognized him immediately, but the sight of him was too much for the other to bear.  He back-pedaled into the can he had just deposited his trash into, in the process knocking it over and falling on his rump.

“Arnie,” he moaned weakly.  “Help me.”

The other was going to have absolutely none of that.  He was nearing a full panic and unless Scott could think of some way to snap him out of it, was going to scramble to his feet and run as far in the other direction as he could get.

“I’m hurt Arnie.  I’m hurt real bad.”

He stepped fully into the light with the intention of leaning up against the light pole, but his legs finally gave out.  His knees slammed into the concrete, each just a little over a foot apart, and he slumped backward on his heels.  He could still sense that the other was in control of his nervous and vascular system, but there was going to be no help with his consciousness.

It no longer mattered if Arnie ran screaming.  It didn’t matter if his insides were to empty onto the ground beneath him and he no longer cared if the police caught up with him.  From the void of his captivity, Scott watched helplessly as the huge portals that were his eyes finally closed.

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