Shelter Dog (Cashby)

Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry I've quit alternating. The chapters would be much much shorter in Austins point of view right now. I'll make sure to mark it though. Much love, xoxo

Alan's PoV
Pain erupted throughout my arm, but I was angry and I didn't pay much attention to it. I felt myself trembling slightly from the vast array of emotions that crashed like ocean waves in my chest, thumping at my rib cage and threatening to break out. It was a negative feeling, overall. It was sadness, anger, betrayal, and so many other emotions that were found floating around in that part of the spectrum.

"Alan!" came Gielle's shrill voice. "What happened?" she asked, pointing at my pulsing fist, which was now an angry red. I had split three of my knuckles since the brick was so rough and uneven, and blood trickled down my hand, leaving a warm feeling behind for a fleeting moment.

"I don't know" I muttered, going to walk past her, but she grabbed my wrist.

"Alan, we have to go inside and clean that up." she told me quietly. "If you leave it like that, it could get infected. Plus, you're going to want it to heal fast so you'll be able to work without cuts busting and you cleaning yourself up" she added, trying to convince me to let her help me. I pulled away reluctantly, staring at my feet.

I felt the familiar ache in my throat and burn behind my eyes as I nodded glumly, trying so hard not to cry that I was sure I'd develop a headache. I didn't want to cry. Especially not when Austin could see at any point. It made me feel weak, crying did. I barely ever did it after the age of 12, but right now it had become extremely hard. I was simply overwhelmed with confusion and the urge to somehow fix things. He didn't deserve that from me, though. I wanted to forgive him so bad, but I knew he didn't deserve that from me, and that only made things worse.

"Alan, please?" said Gielle quietly.

"Fine" I agreed reluctantly, following her back in and into the bathroom. I didn't see Austin on the way there, so I was unsure of when he might walk in.

I watched Gielle carefully as she pulled down the first aid kit, unzipping it on the counter top and letting it fall open. She pulled me around her, pushing me down onto the toilet seat as she grabbed my hand gingerly, letting her gaze drift over my face slowly while she held my hand up to the light. Without a word she pulled out a packet with an alcohol wipe in it, and she began gently cleaning the cuts along my knuckles. I grit my teeth and tensed up while she did so, her gaze flickering up to me every few seconds. Next, she used some sort of cream, smothering it across the wounds before finally wrapping my hand.

We didn't speak as I stood up, but she walked with me silently to the door. I turned the knob and I was in the process of opening the door when Austin walked in, coming from the kitchen and dining room where the back steps were. The laundry room was also in that section of the house, so maybe he had come from in there. I was unsure.

"What's going on?" Austin asked. "What's wrong with his hand" his head was tilted to the side as he stared at me strangely.

I looked away, my eyes going to the front yard. The neighbors who lived in the conjoined apartment segment were in the front yard letting their kids play in the grass.

"I'm not entirely sure, Austin. I do know that you had something to do with it, though" said Gielle bitterly.

"Is his hand okay?" Austin asked, not even paying attention to what Gielle had said.

"You can stop talking as if I'm not here" I snapped as his gaze moved back to my own. "Don't worry about me or anything having to do with me," I spoke bitterly. I could feel the anger on my tongue, begging to drop off with my words but I didn't let it. "Even if I was any of your concern, I'd still be telling you to mind your own fucking business right now." I spoke bravely, ignoring the rage that flitted across his features.

With that, I turned and walked down the steps, cutting across the yard to go home. I heard Echo behind me before Austins voice rang out, calling her to him.

It was a long walk home, or so it seemed. So on the way there, I let the tears I was keeping prisoner break through and rain down my cheeks. I hiccuped with soft sobs, because everything was getting too much. It was wearing no me down, since I didn't know how to deal with what I was feeling. It was stressing me out and making me physically tired, it was so straining. My work situation didn't help. The animals weren't getting adopted, but we were picking them up left and right. We couldn't get rid of the animals in the cages fast enough.

Everything was going wrong, and nothing really bad or emotionally draining had happened since my mom and dad's divorce three years ago, when I was 21.

I fumbled with the lock on my door, pushing it open and stumbling inside, sitting on my bed and staring at the floor. My nose was streaming, and leaving glistening tracks skin my arm as I tried to prevent it from reaching my lips. Toilet paper was a good solution, so I tore off two individual squares, twisting one corner on each and pushing them into each nostril to prevent it from running so terribly. I finished crying like that, constantly pushing and readjusting the toilet paper in my nose, but now I finally pulled them out, dropping them in a disposable plastic cup I had left on my bedside table.

I didn't even change into pajamas to get in bed tonight. I didn't feel like it, honestly. So I just pulled back the covers and just slipped right underneath, my jeans catching on the fabric slightly. As soon as my head hit the pillow, exhaustion settled in my limbs and I wondered how I even got through the day.

I had never felt so drained in my life, and the way it was settling over me was discomforting. It made me feel weak in every imaginable way, and even worse than that, it made me feel what I assumed was vulnerability. That's what it felt like. It felt as if anybody in the world could steal into my thoughts and even use them against me. That was my feeling of vulnerability. I liked to be able to block out my emotions although I rarely had the need to. But this time I couldn't and that wasn't a good thing. Now it felt as if anybody could read me like an open book.

Suddenly, my phone lit up, singing quietly with a notification, and although I was tired, and I didn't feel like reaching to get it, I did anyways.

"Is your hand okay?" It read, Austins contact hovering over the text. I felt my lip curl in disgust, and I opened it, leaving him on 'read'.

He began typing again, but a text never came. It stopped, and then reappeared, doing that several times before I set my phone back down. Just as I did, anther soft ding sounded.

"Alan? Come on, it's literally a yes or no question" it read.

That man is fucking infuriating. He's such a damn child, and I hate how he acts like he hates me one moment, but acts as if he cares about me the next. He doesn't get to do that, or that's what I decided, so I once again left him on 'read'.