Bruises and Bitemarks [Hiatus]

Helping You

After I was released from the hospital at around noon, I went straight home just to sleep. I wanted to rest in my own bed for the longest time and the pain medication I was given made me extremely sleepy. Versus going back to my dorm, I went to my house in the city and collapsed onto the couch where I slept for a couple of hours.

I never really did think about going to my class or going to explain to anyone that I was in the hospital for what seemed to be like the past week, but I didn’t care. I was on good terms with my grades and even if they did drop, it wasn’t too hard to bring them back up.

I walked into my empty, quiet house and dropped all of my stuff on the floor. I actually haven’t been here for a while, except on breaks. But I would spend those breaks alone of course, now that my sister and my parents are gone. I wonder if Zac would like to come over some time…

I was careful not to make any sudden movements as I made my way up the stairs, dragging my feet as I went. Even though my injury was what seemed to be fully healed, my habit of being cautious was hard to drop and sometimes I would find myself still hunching over as I walked. It was almost like a habit of paranoia; I have to remind myself that it’s okay to walk normally, although, to be honest, sometimes it actually did hurt.

Or maybe that was just my mind replaying the attack in my head.

I headed for my bedroom where I pushed open my door and marched right to my bed. Crawling onto it, I lazily looked up at my clock before snuggling into my pillow and closing my eyes. I was asleep within seconds.

It was around four in the afternoon when I woke up, and I immediately found it my mission to go and see Zac. I needed to tell him that I wanted to help him; he needed to know that I was going to be there for him. I got up and freshened up a little, my bed hair always made me look terrible.

When I arrived at his house, I was greeted with the usual hello and he walked me into his house. I wasn’t interested in eating anything this time, so we stayed in the living room where I brought up the conversation. Much to my surprise, he didn’t take too well to the idea of me trying to help...and actually got quite angry at me.

“Can’t you just be satisfied with what you have now?” he asked. He was walking over to sit next to me on the couch when I had spoken, but he had stopped and I was now looking up at him and listening as his voice quickly became filled with irritation.

They say that whenever you were in an argument with someone, or in any verbal conflict, stand up so that you are not at the disadvantage of being looked down upon by the opposition. I never understood that until now. Though at this point the conversation had barely even started, I felt fairly intimidated with Zac looming over me.

I’m not used to him being mad at me, or even aggravated, in any way.

“No,” I replied, trying to keep my voice as confident as possible. “I can’t be satisfied with having a friend who is possessed by a demon.” Who could?

Zac brought his hand to his face and placed it over his right temple before running his fingers through his hair, proceeding to bring it back down suddenly in a movement of frustration. I heard a low grumble being emitted from his throat and I quickly looked down at his feet, a reflex that I need to get rid of.

“Please don’t…do that,” I murmured, bringing my hands together and pushing my index fingers against one another. I kept my gaze down as he started to growl…I didn’t like it when he growled, though this would be the first time that I heard him do it personally.

Usually it was his possessed self that would make sounds like that at me, and it was because of that that I did not want to hear the noise come from him. It scared me and I would always mentally tell myself to run.

Even now, my feet are on the ready.

Zac stopped himself and muttered an apology, knowing why I had said that.

“But Zac,” I continued after nodding to his apology. “I don’t see why you don’t want me to help. There is no danger in doing research and we can call on professionals?”

“No!” he exclaimed the volume of his voice was rising to such a high degree that it would have sent me running towards the door under any other circumstance.

“Why are you so angry?” I asked, confused by his reactions. Shouldn’t he be grateful that I’m trying to find a way to get rid of this thing?

He shook his head in annoyance. “You’re being stupid and naïve, Amy.”

I looked up when I heard him say those things. Seriously, you would think that one would not be insulted in such a manner when offering help… He looked back at me, waiting for me to respond, but I was hesitant, allowing a temporary stillness come in between us. I mentally scrambled for the right things to say, but my mind was pulling a blank.

“Why did you…” I never finished my question. I started to think about his reaction to my words from the get go and I started to become irritated myself. My delayed reaction of being offended finally arrived and I felt hurt by his words.

I stood up from my seat, keeping my eyes on him. “Fine,” I said. “I’m stupid and I’m naïve.” I picked up my purse and pushed past him, walking towards the entrance of the living room. He grabbed my arm, but quickly dropped it as I flinched from my injury, which just served to irritate me more.

“Don’t touch me!” I snapped, turning around and thrashing my arm so he’d let go, which he did. We stared at each other, then he apologised. I groaned.

“Stop apologising to me, Zac,” I told him. “That’s all I’ve been hearing you say, I’m tired of it.”

He sat down on the couch, putting both hands to his head. “What do you want from me?” he asked in between sighs.

I stood where I was, a few feet away from him. My purse awkwardly hung off of my shoulder; I took a step towards him. “Let me help you,” I said. “That’s all I want.”

“Why do you insist?”

“Must I really explain?”

Like, really, must I actually stand here and explain to you that the reason why I want to help you is because you’re possessed?

I walked up to him until my legs were touching his knees, then I reached out and ran my fingers through his hair. He kept his head lowered and his eyes on the floor.

“No,” he answered.

“Good.”

“Amy, you don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“That’s what you said when you said you might kill me, too. I don’t think you have to remind me.”

He looked up at me and I dropped my hand. “You don’t get it, do you? How dangerous I really am?”

“You mean how dangerous your demon is,” I replied. I wasn’t annoyed by his words, but he had to understand that he and that demon were two different entities. What that demon did on his own time was him and not Zac.

“I can do more than just kill you or put a mark on you,” he put a hand on my side as he said this, making my heart skip a beat because I was afraid that it would hurt. However, much to my relief and surprise, it didn’t. I stood still as he traced his fingers up along side of my torso, staring at his motions intently and feeling for the scars underneath my shirt.

“Stop referring to yourself as that thing, you are not him and he is not you.”

Zac scoffed.

“How are you going to help someone like me, Amy?” he asked, taking his eyes off of my body and looking up at me directly.

“Just leave it to me,” I assured him, smiling. “We can call professionals, I’m sure.”

“How will you find them?” he asked, challenging my ideas, my hope.

“Google.”