bandages || calum hood

five

calum

"Fuck my life." I groaned while aggressively tugging on my hair. My clothes were stained with crimson red blotches that also appeared through my bandages. I dragged my body towards the shower to wipe off any dirt that has collected within my attire. I peeled off my filthy attire before entering the steaming shower with condensation covering the glass. The water stung harshly against my skin, but my cheeks were probably the reddest piece of flesh on my body.

Belle would never create a conversation with me again, for I randomly noted that her scent was appealing to me. I wouldn't blame her though. If I were a girl, I would already call the cops since I would suddenly feel targeted by an eighteen year old pervert. She didn't show a strong form of disgust, but the way she awkwardly laughed and tucked away a small piece of pin straight hair told me that she was very uncomfortable.

My thoughts of a good first impression to her has completely plummeted to the ground and refused to let me at least try to make up for it. The situation was too embarrassing that I just grabbed my things and walked out of the nurse's office only to find Mr. Thompson flaming right in front of me. He scolded me for my actions and punished me with another month of detention including me going to anger management classes. Not that I would be shocked; I beat up various kids before so it was natural for him to be concerned. Of the students, that is.

Mr. Thompson could give less of a shit about me, but he knows that if amy harm was done to me, Michael would get involved. One of the pros of being like a little brother to Michael was that he had anything to blackmail whoever attacks you. Fortunately for me, Michael caught Mr. Thompson's twenty-five year old son taking drugs while raping a teenage girl. As much as both of us wanted to kick his trashy ass son to jail for his revolting action, Michael warned me that it was best to conceal the secret for my benefit.

Rumors spread around that the girl was stabbed in the stomach when she told him that she was carrying his child, but the girl escaped this hell before any of us can receive an explanation. The thought of his sea green colored eyes that he inherited from his father caused me to cringe. I've only met the addict once; however, it didn't take much effort to classify him as a psycho. He was too addicted to girls as in he would stalk them home and creep in their houses. I admit, I followed Belle home, but it was due to mere curiosity.

His name was Richard to top it off. His name was the exact same as his father's which doesn't make sense since Mr. Thompson's sixty year old wife would probably confuse herself and die of the puzzle. Thompson valued his son a whole damn lot, so he flipped out when Michael threatened him during a RPC. The look in his eyes was surely something I would take a picture of but being in trouble due to causing a kid to break his arm, I would have possibly been sent off to a juvenile.

I dabbed my drenched self with a cotton towel before carefully rewrapping my body with bandages. The piece of cloth was dreadfully tight around my abs -not like how Belle wrapped it- and my arms felt like they were going to unwrap within the smallest movements I made. I tapped my bleeding wounds with a cotton ball and covered myself up with sweatpants. A Metallica shirt slouched onto my body along with my shoulders.

My feet annoyingly dragged along the carpet as I pouted while looking down. Michael coughed and raised an eyebrow at me. He dropped his keys on the kitchen counter when he chugged a glass of ice water.

"What happened?" He sighed to catch his breath after setting the glass on the granite counter. He wiped his mouth with his black sleeve and fluffed his newly dyed cotton candy floss colored hair.

"I fucked up." I groaned and shoved my face into the caramel brown leather couch.

"And how have you fucked up?" I felt the couch dip down due to Michael sitting next to me as he munched onto iced oatmeal cookies.