Snakes Say My Name

H

Kayla

I sat in my bedroom staring at the lamp that stood on the crook end of my table.

This was the third icepack I had placed on my leg to ease the pain.

I hadn't got shot like that, since ever.

I watched blood roll down my sensitive skin until it reached the carpet.

"Lulu," I called out to my golden retriever.

She was my only source of entertainment since the only people that seem to come by was Trina, Miko, and Brooklyn. Even when they did, it was in rare situations.

Lulu never comes when I call her. I was sick and tired of this dog already. She still didn't know her name, or how to move out the way when I needed her to.

I stood, holding my rag against my hand, ready to see what was keeping her occupied now.

I struggled to walk, but I was doing it. Leaning every step of the way, I took my time to say, "Fuck this hurts."

I found my way into the living room looking around.

"Lulu."

I picked up a few things and stood up to think for awhile. "Gah, where the hell is that dog at?"

"She's here," A thick voice said behind me.

I turned around to see Draco, who had a smirk on his face.

"How the fuck did you get in my hou- how the fuck do you know where I live?"

He removed Lulu from his hands and let her roam off free.

His eyes went down to my leg, which he looked at sturdrly. He scoffed a little, pulling at his chin.

"To think I was to kill you," he said out loud.

"You didn't answer my fucking question!" My leg was starting to get tired of the weight I put down on it when I stood.

"You shouldn't put ice on that," he commented watching me take a seat on the couch.

I flicked my middle finger. "What would you know about bullet wounds anyway."

He shut my front door, which made me nervous. His fingers moved up his shirt, pulling up his sleeve. "Since your friend shot me while I was trying to aim for you."

His upper arm was masculine and clear, filled with black ink from tattoos, and muscle from work out. What stood out most was indeed the bullet wond he had just sitting there.

"You could've killed me," I whispered thinking about last night.

After he had shot me, I panicked and passed out, just to wake up almost fully drowned from the flood that had occurred.

I was surprised to even be able to make it back home since I was flustered with pain and was weak.

"But, I didn't," He said," I actually shot you in the leg because I knew you wouldn't have died. You were pissing me off with all that mouth so I made you feel the pain to shut you up."

"You're a fuck Up," I said throwing the pillow that was beside me at him.

I was almost distracted at the fact that he did that, that I didn't get his reasoning behind it.

"Why is it that everytime I'm trying to make my bag, you end up being the one trying to stop me." I quizzed him with my face.

His eyes followed my apartment like he was taking a mental note of what it looked like.