Ripple | ✔ (Old Story)

Chapter 80

A smashed tv, a few shattered glasses and a guitar- horribly trampled on. This place doesn't look half like the one I used to remember, everything's put off place.

"Oh my god, " I gasped, covering my mouth as I made my way in. Taking cautious steps as each was one closer to shards.

"Chase!" I call out worriedly. In the corner of my eye, I find a bloody towel laying across the wooden floor and my heart stops. Tears prick my eyes when a million things flood my mind.

I rush towards it and luckily; I find the person I was looking for, a bottle in hand, half-asleep, bloody knuckles and a bloody face. He leaned on the wall, sitting on his kitchen floor surrounded by spilt whiskey and shards of glass.

"Jesus, " I trembled, almost speechless.

He looked up to me and my heart swells as I take one good look at him. Bruises surrounded his left eye, his lip busted and quivering. And his skin is merely torn. He looked like he fought in a war.

"What are you doing here?" He stood up, wide-eyed and dropping his bottle, shattering it. I stumble backwards even in a weak state like this he still intimidates me.

"Chase...what happened?" I choked as I looked around at the mess he made it my gaze locked on the horrifying wound across his arm as though a knife had been used to draw a line from his shoulder to his elbow.

"I thought you'd never come...come back, " his face falls as he took a step towards me. He reeked of blood, sweat and alcohol. By instinct, I took a step back. And he scowls.

"What happened?" I repeated harshly since he couldn't be bothered to answer the first time.

"I got angry, " He admitted and I take a breath.

"Clearly, "

I leave him to go to the bathroom where I knew his first aid was. As a nurse to her patient my first instinct was to dress his wounds, I don't know where that instinct came from but I have it.

When I returned Chase sat on one stool, his head in between his hands, and I had to stop myself from tearing up.

I was right, something was wrong. Who knows what it could've transpired to if I didn't come. The idea of him being alone sends shivers down my spine.

"Give me your arm," I demanded as I settled the first aid kit. He looked at me, puzzled for a moment, but he listened.

I tried to work with it and suggest that it doesn't need stitches, but as I looked further; it was a deep cut for just a band-aid.

I feel his eyes watch me as I cleaned his wounds. He would wince and hiss every time I would rub some ointment so I would stop to let him recover. Our eyes would meet, but he would say nothing.

"Chase, you can't do stuff like this when you get mad, " I scolded and prepared myself for the screaming.

"I know...yes...I know, I just lost it." He sighs and my hand trembled as I picked up the sutures.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" He gestured to the stitches. But I try to ignore him because I didn't even know. It was just an instinct that came to me.

"Are you...are you ok?" He asked just as I had pierced his skin and he flinches with a groan. Talking with him like this would be a pain, but hearing him in agony would be so much worse. I need to distract him.

"What do you think?" I replied, and he settles.

"I couldn't sleep. I kept on seeing your face, hearing your voice, " he murmurs, and when I heard the pain he held, I almost broke myself.