Reminiscence

Chapter .23.

A-I-D-E-N

After sheepishly getting her address, I take the rusty old bicycle that I found in the garage a few weeks ago and attempt to ride it.

Emphasis on attempt.

I don't have much to carry with me, considering the fucking circumstances.

The asshole bicycle gives me an almost-heart attack when it creaks dangerously and the rusty chain rattles at every turn, bound to snap at any moment.

This was not good.

Ride, ride ride your bike,
Noisily down the street,
Merrily merrily merrily merrily,
My life's a piece of shit.

To be honest, I liked the remix. There were no crocodiles around here anyway.

Right when I had reached her locality and was making a turn for her house, the friggin' Satan chain decided to snap.

Yay me.

The bike topples to the side, taking me along with it as I pummel toward the tar road. My forehead comes into contact with the road first and then my right hand.
Why couldn't roads be smoother?

I get up unsteadily, and my forehead and hand throb, bleeding slightly from the scrapes. I wonder if Renesse would still let me in after me looking like I had been in a fistfight with a bear. And lost tragically.

I drag the useless bike to an abandoned shed and just leave it there. Whatever poor kid sees it hopefully wouldn't attempt to ride it.
Her house is just a few blocks away so I keep walking and finally reach the two storey house, painted a light purple.

Of course she lived here. It was purple. I decide to clean the gash on my forehead before ringing the doorbell with an old napkin. Ouch. Just made it worse. Way to go, Aiden.

I sigh and just walk up to the porch and ring the- there's no doorbell, just an old knocky-thingy. Woah. I thought knocky-thingys were long out of style or something
I try out the knocky-thingy anyway.

The door opens after some time and Renesse looks at me with a shocked expression on her face. Must be the blood. And do I look that horrendous?

"What the fuck happened to you? Were you in a fistfight with a grizzly?" She asks, opening the door and gesturing for me to set my backpack down.

I smile sheepishly. "I might have used a very old creaky bike to get here and it might have broken and I might have fallen on the road."

She blinks. And blinks again. Then she sighs and gestures for me to follow her upstairs. The house is small, but big enough for two people to live in. There's not much furniture, but theres tons of beautiful paintings hanging on all the walls, making the place look vibrant.

She leads me to what looks like her bedroom and takes me to the attached bathroom and makes me sit on the potty.

With the lid down of course.

She reaches up to open the cabinet and her top lifts a little displaying the sleek, taut muscles framing her abdomen.

I avert my eyes before she catches me staring. She takes out a pack of cotton and a few wipes and some disinfectant.

She places her cold fingers on my forehead and examines the gash. After wiping it with water, she pours some disinfectant on the cotton and looks at me.

"This is going to sting a bit." She says and places the cotton on my wound. My forehead burns and I bite my lip to stop from cursing. Whoever invented disinfectant was merciless. And so was Renesse.

She cleaned my wound and put a bandage on it and did the same with my hand.

She sat down on the sink and looked at me with those pools of gold. What a mesmerising eye colour.

"Thanks for this Renesse, I think I'm allergic to bicycles now." I smile at her.

"You better be." She laughs.

"Don't you have a roommate?" I ask her, hoping I didn't sound too nosy.

"Yeah. She's gone on a road trip with her girlfriend for a few weeks so your timing worked out."

Huh. Nice. Now I just felt lonelier.

She swings her lithe legs off the sink and grips my hand.

"I'm starving. Want to help me with dinner?" She asks, pulling me along with her to the kitchen downstairs.

Her long, thin ring finger had the tattoo of a trident on it. I wondered what it stood for.

She's about to reach across the counter when her phone buzzes. She lets go of my hand and takes her phone out. Her eyebrows pull together and she looks at me.

"It's the anonymous number again." She says, fear creeping into her voice.