A Grey Past

Home, Sweet Home

Kiki knelt down to the body, she had to check if he was alive. Her hands shaking in fear, Kiki brought her index and middle finger to where she would -presumably- feel his pulse.
His skin was cold, dry; like he had been lying there for a while.
He had a pulse -albeit slow, but a pulse nonetheless.
From what she could tell, the roughly sixteen-year-old kid, had short brown hair and dark eyes -almost black; he reminded her of Eric.
The kid was also quiet skinny, though if that was because he had been laying there for god knows how long or of it was natural, she didn't know.
"Hey kid." Her hand went to his cheek to shake his head. "Come on kid, wake up."
He groaned, his hand coming to his forehead. ". . . The fuck happened?"
She scoffed a laugh. "Nice mouth. I was hoping you could tell me."
He sat up slowly, his eyes squinting at the light originating from the window above him.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"Kiki. What are you doing here, kid?" She asked, offering a hand to help him up.
"Don't call me kid, it makes me sound young. Call me Johnny." He said, getting to his feet.
"Alright, Johnny. What are you doing here?" She asked again.
"I. . . I'm not sure. The last thing I remember. . . I was leaving somewhere with my girlfriend. . ." He rubbed the back of his head. "There was a guy -i think he was drunk- and he had a gun and-" The kid -Johnny- turned pale.
She only faintly heard the name he mumbled under his breath. "Cora."
"Cora? Is that. . . Is that your girlfriend?" Kiki's heart stopped.
"Yeah, I've only been with her about a month though. . ."
About a month.
"Jansen."
Johnny looked surprised. "I'm sorry?"
"Her last name. It was Jansen, wasn't it?" Anger flared in her.
"How did you. . .?" He trailed off.
Kiki fell to her knees, her heart aching and her anger growing.
What happened to Leo? She asked herself. Idiot! That doesn't matter right now!
"What day was it, when that happened?" Kiki managed to choke out.
"Tuesday, I think." He answered.
"You've been unconscious for two days? It's Thursday." Kiki said. "What did my father do to you, to keep you out that long?"
"Your father? What the hell, man?!" Johnny yelled, stepping away from her.
Kiki rushed to him, covering his mouth with her hand. "Unless you want your ass to be kicked, I suggest you shut it and listen to me."
He took a moment, probably realising he had nothing to gain by not listening to her, and nodded.
Kiki removed her hand. "I am nothing like my demon of a father. But I do know him enough, to know that it was him that brought you here. The question is why? Why would he bring you here?"
"He's your dad, you tell me." Johnny whispered.
"No, he is not my dad. He's my father. He has done nothing to earn the title of "dad."" She clarified. She exhaled heavily. "Out of curiosity, are you rich?"
"Uhm, no." He answered simply.
"Is your family rich?"
"Nope."
Kiki thought for a moment. "Then why would he bring you here? My father isn't a fool -even when he's drunk."
Which is always. She thought.
"Bringing you here would only risk him being sent to jail again, he knows that. He also knows that he physically can't keep you here." Kiki continued.
"Can we talk about this later? I don't exactly want to stay here." Johnny insisted.
Kiki whipped her gaze to him, her hair flying around. "Just give me a minute, I have to find a way for both of us to get out."
"Why do you have to leave? It's your house." He asked quietly.
She rolled her eyes, not bothering to answer.
Kiki was practically bubbling with anger, about to explode at this point; her father very well may have killed her best friend, he brought a kid into his house for some reason, he had torn her away from the one place she felt she belonged.
"I'll be back. Stay here, don't make a sound. If he comes in, pretend you're still unconscious." She said, making her way across the ravaged room to the door.
"Where are you going?" He asked.
"To get some help."
Silently, kiki shut the door and tip-toed her way to the trashed kitchen.
She could hear her father rummaging through something in the livingroom; that was good. It meant he probably wouldn't hear her going through the things in the kitchen.
Kiki made soft strides down the stairs, cautious of her father in the room adjacent to the staircase. At the bottom of the steps, she turned left towards the kitchen -and away from her father.
The kitchen was -as she expected- trashed. The pots that were supposed to be hanging above the counter, were sprawled across the stained floor and the glass cupboards were either cracked or just not there. In summary, it looked like a literal tornado struck the kitchen and hurled everything on the opposite side of where it originally was.
To Kiki's luck, the home phone was still in acceptable condition. Granted the wire was torn and twisted to the point it looked like it had been woven, however it would serve its purpose.
At least I have something working for me. Kiki thought gratefully.
Attempting not to make noise by brushing up against the counters that were -for lack of better words- full of stuff. Meanwhile, also trying to avoid stepping on any of the pots and pans, she reached the end of the room where the phone lay.
The ruckus in the livingroom had stopped, she had to be extra quiet on the way out. And in her predicament, it would be very difficult to do that without making a sound.
There were two ways into the kitchen; one on either end. She'd have to go through the other way as it was closer and there was less risk of making noise.
She picked up the phone and went around the counter to the doorway. Slipping through the crack between the wall and the staircase, kiki returned to her old room.
"I'm gonna make a phone call. Keep an ear open, if my father comes up the stairs, you'll hear his drunken ass fumble and fall." She ordered.
Please be okay.

A/N: LOL, this reminds me of Granny the video game ;)- which I suck at.