Bruised knuckles

The end

He grit his teeth as I padded the damp cloth on his bruised and bloody knuckles. He sat upright though it seemed he could not quite get comfortable, this was understandable considering the few dark bruises that littered his torso. I held his strong inked hands gently in my own. Delicately as I could I continued to rid them of the blood that ran through the minute grooves in his skin giving a effect almost like frost.
"You didn't have to do that for me you know." I told him though I was sure he was already aware. He remained silent other then the sharp intakes of breath causing by the subtle natural movements hindered by his bruised body. I sighed and pushed myself up off the bed to go wring the blood free from the rag with a bit of water. Reaching into the dark wooden cabinet I retrieved some bandages. The floor was cold and the air fell empty. I sunk back onto the bed and scooted closer to the boy I had chosen to involve myself with, despite the protest from my parents. Regardless of how I felt towards his methods of protecting me I attended to his wounds with the utmost care. I wound the bandages around his hand cautiously.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered stopping me in my tracks. I looked to him sympathetically.
"I know you mean well...but I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."
He laughs at the idea.
"You? get me in trouble?, sometimes you forget how bad things were before I met you." He insists. I smile though my eyes reflect only sadness upon remembering the trouble he had gotten into without me. He pulls me from my thoughts as he grips my hand in his own. He lifts my hand to his lips and places a kiss there before lifting his gaze to meet mine.
"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." He smiles. I smile back though a tear runs down my cheek. His composure sinks upon seeing the drop roll off onto the covers. He pulls me in his warm embrace but as much as I long to rap my arms around his bruised and battered soul I withhold for that very reason. With disregard for the pain caused by the injuries, he holds me tighter. I find myself caving into the vulnerability, pulling him closely.

I shut my eyes tightly as we sit there both painfully aware of the inevitable situation to come. As they say the calm before the storm. It is nearly eleven at night when there was a pounding on the shabby apartment door. I flinched where I sat in his embrace and begged him not to go to the door. Holding him tighter knowing full well the pain he felt now was not half of the pain he would experience once he opened that door. He looked me in the eyes before standing to attention with great effort.
"Jay don't go!" I cried out grabbing onto his arm. He didn't turn to face me, instead he just said with a harshness in his voice.
"If I don't go to them they'll brake that door down and come after you too."
I cried and collapsed to the floor as he made his way through the apartment maintaining his composure all the way to the door, though I knew it was difficult for him to make it that far. He undid the heavy lock on the door and pulled it open.
"Your business is with me, no one touches the girl."
"No promises." A rough voice says with humour evident in its tone. A loud thud is heard in the next room and I scrambled to my feet only to see him broken down onto the floor. He tries to push himself up on an arm trying to grit through the pain but is shut down by the soul of a boot against his back. I begin to the scream at the men kicking him while he was down. One moves away from the commotion to grab hold of me. I fight his grasp as I try to reach jay but it's no use. He moves abruptly in attempts to reach out for me but this only leaves an opening for a direct kick to his bruises. He cries out and crumples back into his previous state. I thrash around frantically, my chest pounding in heartbreaking agony over watching him suffer. When he's stopped moving the man restraining me throws me down the the ground before leaving with the others. I rise to my feet only to throw myself towards him, managing to scrape my knees somehow. I lean over him and to cradle his head on my arms. I softly stroke the side of his face and sob.
"You'll be ok, you'll be ok...jay...come on jay you're ok. You are ok aren't you?"
I kiss his split lips to heal my sorrow, but a kiss can't heal broken ribs. I ran for the phone to call for help, but miracles aren't found in the yellow pages. A ambulance comes to carry him to the hospital, but he is carried off before they even arrive.