I squeeze my eyes shut, glad when someone slips there hand into mine. I open my bright blue eyes and look up at Macky. He gives me a reassuring smile. It helps me, especially coming from my best friend. My eyes rack his body: His tan skin, raven hair, pink, plump lips, the mischievous green eyes. His slight facial hair, the sideburns, the hooked nose. His toned body. People would think he's perfect...unless, they know his past. If you look past his fringe, there is a huge scar from—I don't even want to think about it. It sickens me that I hadn't been there to help him. Maybe if I was there, he wouldn't have such a reminder of who he use to be. I should really stop letting these horrid reminders pop up in my mind.
"Ashton, don't cry..." His husky voice whispers, his hot breath beating on my ear. I blink and feel the liquid slip through my eyelash. I reach up to wipe it away, but he quickly beats me to it. His thumb presses against my skin. His hands are rough. I notice his amethyst eyes when they bore into mine intently. I stare straight back. We've always been close. He takes my chin in his fingers. "Chin up, Ashton." He smiles warmly. I nod and pull myself away,"I know. I know."
He rolls his eyes at me. "Yeah, right. Just like you knew all about that math test you failed. I instantly draw my fist back and send it into his shoulder. He yelps and chuckles, "God, I was only joking."
I glare at him through the narrowed slits of my eyelids. "Ha ha, but it isn't funny, dumbass." I snap. He just laughs and starts yanking at my curls. "Will you stop it!?" I swat at his hands. He twists a curl on his index finger; paying be no mind. His eyes shuttered. Great, he's in his own little world. He tugs my curl gently and starts on another one. He continues to walk home with me. I'd be so happy to see him trip on a rock. 'Cause—honestly—his tugging at my hair is getting quite annoying. I know it's best not to mess with him during his movement of thought. He just really seems to need to think. About him. About his past. About his future. About his love life—I doubt he has one. He's a player. That's the one thing that'll never change for him. That thought makes me frown. My eyebrows knit together. He can't be a player forever, right? He has to grow out of it sometime.
Macky blinks for the first time in minutes. Maybe he's coming back from thinking. Or maybe, his eye just got itchy. I snicker.
"What's so funny?" He questions. I shake my head. He shrugs and releases my curls.
We walk down the alleyway we take to get home everyday. The broken phone line sparks and smokes. The dumpster wide open and smelling like absolute s***. It was disgusting. There were puddles of rainwater here and there. But for some reason, it felt like hone to me. Yeah, I was a street kid, now that I think about it. It's not so bad. It's fun getting in gang fights. Oh, it was super fun getting in trouble. But we never got caught. What a rush.
Next thing I know, my body's laying on the moist concrete floor. I can see the sticky, warm, red liquid flowing from my temple. The blood practically gushes out. It covers my eyelash. The world is getting fuzzy. Black spots appearing here and there. Why am I spinning? When did it get so dark....?