Whisper in the Rain

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

GRACE

We walked home in silence.

Well, I walked home. Miles limped.

At first, he refused to let me help him, but after two blocks he finally relented. His arm slung over my shoulders and I was able to help him hobble toward his house. It was awkward since he was so much taller than me, but that didn't seem to matter. As we turned a corner, he let out an exhausted sigh and buried his face in my hair, hiding his eyes.

"Almost there," I assured him.

After huffing it up the driveway together, Miles let go of my shoulders and limped inside, clutching his stomach.

"I got it," he said, waving me away.

Luckily, his parents were still at work so I had time to get him situated before they laid eyes on what those bastards had done to their son's face.

Once we made it upstairs to his room, I pointed him toward the bed and ventured into his bathroom. I shuffled through cabinets and drawers until I came across a crude first aid kit. When I returned, Miles was on his back, staring at the ceiling, cringing with every breath he took.

"Maybe we should go to the hospital," I suggested.

"No," he said, eyes still fixed straight ahead. "Nothing's broken. I'll be fine."

"You sure? If you're bleeding internally we should-"

"I'm fine!"

His clipped tone made me want to walk right out the door, but I knew his anger wasn't directed at me. Trying not to jostle the bed, I sat next to him and opened an alcohol swab.

"What are you doing?" He glanced at me through the corner of his eye.

"I'm going to clean the blood off your face before your parents get home. Is that okay with you?"

I leaned over him and dabbed at a cut slicing through his lip. He cringed, but didn't say a word. My hands worked fast and efficiently, drawing on all the times I'd cleaned and bandaged my own face.

I didn't realize it going in, but tending to someone else's wounds is ten times harder than dressing your own. It's worse when the person's pain is etched so clearly across their face.

A few excruciating minutes later, Miles was free of blood and only slightly puffy. I'd managed to clean and bandage the worst of it with liquid band aid but there was nothing we could do about the swelling aside from keep ice on it, which Miles refused to do.

After I returned the first aid kit to his bathroom, I curled up next to him in bed. His anger had faded, but in it's place sat embarrassment and a resolution to never let that happen again. He didn't have to say those things out loud. We'd spent so much time together that he was easy to read.

I laid both hands on my stomach and rested my head against his shoulder, hoping I wouldn't try to reach for him that way

"What are you going to tell your parents?"

His tongue darted out to lick at his busted lip.

"The truth."

My head jerked up in surprise. I was so used to making up excuses for my cuts and bruises on the rare occasion that someone cared enough to ask.

I fell.

I rolled down the stairs.

I tripped and ran into a table.