Thursday Evening

A/N~Well, I hope this is satisfactory. Dayquil seriously made me high. Only a couple left. Like, two, if there is no attack of the vicious plot bunnies. Uh...

Thanks for the Reviews. Constructive Criticism is good for everybody.

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His voice was weak. It seemed to crackle, like it was broken. It was so weak and wavering. He kept on saying that he wasn’t clean. He was avoiding the question. It didn’t require all of my brain-power to figure that out.

When I reached out to touch him, he shrank back. And I was afraid as another thought entered my mind. The thoughts were too disjointed, though. I couldn’t remember getting hit on the head, but I knew that I was hit on the head. I knew that it wouldn’t be by him, either. He would never hurt me.

Shit. What happened?

Finally, he began to speak. Maybe he thought it would be cathartic to tell me. Or maybe I looked so pathetic, collapsed against the sink that he had to tell me. I don’t know.

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I watched him as he tried to coax it out of me. His expression changed as he watched me. He assumed the worst. And it wasn’t all that far from the truth, either.

“My sister called me at work.” I start, that’s where I had to start. “I didn’t expect her to call me. She was scared and she told me she had made a huge mistake. She’d gotten our old P.I. to track us down to find me, and she found my old pimp, too. Then, her voice changed. It got strong, and she seemed different. She told me that he’s been looking for me for a long time. That he never expected me to stay away.

“Then, she says that you look so cute while you’re asleep.” I paused, wondering if I should tell him how frightened I was at that moment, but I decide against it. He’ll be too angry soon enough for that. “I was about to tell her off, but she tells me that the freckles on your stomach form the Big Dipper. And I ask her, ‘How do you know that?’. She tells me that she’s here, and demands that I come home as soon as I possibly can. I, of course, leave and see you. You looked dead,” I said. That was the hardest part to say. “One of the pimp’s cronies is just hanging out, and I realize he’s knocked you unconscious. He threatens to kill you if I don’t go back to it. He’s got a gun in his belt… and I believe him.

“At that moment, I cared more about your life than I cared about my own safety. My own peace of mind. At that moment, I chose you over everyone else in the world.” He seems to realize what I’m getting at, and makes a motion to get up.

“I’m forced back to it. I don’t know how to get out of it this time. The pimp refuses to let me leave. He’ll kill you. I’m surprised you weren’t killed. And we can’t run away, because they’re watching the apartment and our cars.” Saying all of that aloud makes it real, and I realized exactly how screwed we are. Or rather, how screwed I am. He could still choose to separate himself from me. But even as the thought comes across my mind, I realize he won’t do that.

“I have an idea.” He says, sounding exactly like a hero from a war movie. And in a way, I suppose he is.