Skin and Bones (boyxboy) ✓

Chapter Four

Dark thick blood trickled down from his head, he was either covered in it, or in mud, but it looked like dried clumps of blood, the skin peeling back from the top of it.

"I don't have time for this." He hissed. "Get out, we have to leave now."

"NO!!!" He screamed struggling to move away, as he writhed on the floor, shuffling forwards so that I could suddenly see him in full view by the light of the moon and I saw that his legs were... damaged, rotting, the only sign of genuine life in them was the maggots that were crawling inside them, wriggling, their white shifting forms illuminated in places. Tons of them, so many that as he moved forwards I saw them drip from him like droplets, their bodies dancing as they were tossed off of the injured man.

He smelled acrid, it made me confused as to how the hell I hadn't realised he was there before. What had happened? How had I missed him? How had I somehow not seen him, heard him or even smelled him. It was as though he had climbed out of nowhere, his rotting shell appearing in its unwinding state of distress.

I wanted to throw up so badly that I physically couldn't. Despite that, though, I retched into my hand, the smell made me want to rip my nose off and turn around. But he was hurt. I couldn't just leave him there.

Clearly whoever this guy was he was trying to help this badly injured guy on the floor here and that was a respectable thing to do. I should help him, if it didn't bother the other guy how vile the man looked and smelled then I couldn't allow it to bother me. What mattered the most was he we got him some help. Maybe the reason he was so frightened was because of the massive injury to his head.

I nodded to myself. That made sense, it was logical, Occam's razor and all that. It gave me the returning feeling of strength that I understood what sort of a scene I had just walked into. And the rest could be explained away by me being drunk, although I was feeling suspiciously not completely shit-faced at this point, not-not drunk, but also not quite as bleary eyed as I remembered being when I had finally realised where I was and had slowly put together how I must have gotten there.

I took a couple steps forwards until I was about four feet away from the guy writhing in pain on the floor. He was hurt and acting crazy, it wasn't terrible of me to not get too close immediately.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

But he just continued screaming as though he hadn't heard me.

I spoke louder. "Hey! Are you okay? I think you need to go to the hospital!"

More screaming.

Ugh, that was beginning to get on my nerves. I turned around for some support from the tall shadowy figure beside me and looked up to see his red eyes on me. He was watching me silent and frozen. Was it just me or did he look a mixture of confused and shocked for a moment there.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked me, an edge to his voice.

There was something really strange about that voice, like it felt less like it was coming from a person and more like it was coming from all around me. He felt closer than he was when he spoke.

I shivered. "I don't- He's hurt..." He mumbled, pointing at the still-screaming man on the floor.

"Yes..." He said slowly. "He is."

I frowned. Why did I feel like I didn't understand anything this guy was saying, I wish I'd drunken less of that punch. I looked down and patted my jean pockets and realised I didn't have my phone with me, my phone or my wallet for that matter, which was wonderful.

I turned back to him. "Do you have a phone I can use?"

I raised a perfect eyebrow, those dark red eyes squinting at me. I ignored the tingle of awareness I felt whenever his eyes met mine, the slight jingle of giddy nervousness I got from looking at someone really, really attractive who is way out of my league.