Anastasia had never had an easy life. Living with an abusive step father and an even worse mother, Anastasia had accepted the fact that her life would not be getting any better. But their sudden death has given Anastasia hope, hope that she would in...
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The blood had dried up by now, so had my tears.
My eyes burned, I'm sure they were bloodshot, the music outside seemed to have subsided a little but it could still be heard clearly. My eyes traveled down on to the floor.
A tiny puddle of blood had formed on the ground right below my hand.
With my head resting on the door, all of a sudden I heard a rattling, someone was trying to open the door, I backed away immediately, stumbling to stand up. I heard a small click before the door opened.
On the other side of the door stood Quinn. "Anastasia? What are doing in here?" I scrambled to make up an excuse. "Nothing." Fuck! My brain is an idiot.
"The door was locked from outside. And what the hell is all this?" Her eyes travelled from the blood on the floor to the broken mirror. Quinn looked back towards me. "Are you okay?"
I shouldn't have said what I said next, I should have kept my loud mouth shut and just made up a good excuse. But I didn't, I didn't make up an excuse. "My brothers locked me in here. They're not the biggest fans of mine."
Quinn's eyes widened and she stepped forward, and me, well like an idiot I flinched back, my hand coming up in a small 'don't' gesture. Looking at her position and her hands I am pretty sure she had been coming for a hug.
"Oh my god! Your hand. Did you punch the fucking mirror?" She screeched, and I reared back at the sheer volume of her voice. "Well." I didn't explain much more.
The girl sighed. "Please go sit on the bed." She asked, or more so ordered like a very disappointed teacher, had I disappointed her? Why would anything I do mean enough for her to be disappointed?
But I didn't question her and went to go sit on my bed. Just a couple seconds later she entered the room again but this time with the first aid kit in her hand. Taking a seat in front of me.
She opened the kit taking out the needed supplies she swabbed a ball of cotton with some antiseptic, "This might sting a little okay?" I nodded without a word, I didn't feel much when she wiped it across my hand.
I guess that makes sense, after years of being beaten and getting your hand burned on more than one occasion, your pain tolerance is bound to increase.
After cleaning the wound she started with patching it up. Hesitating I spoke up, "Are you...uh are you mad?" Looking up at me with furrowed brows "What?" She asked.
"You know, about the punching the mirror and just making a big deal about all this stuff?" My voice was quite. Quinn looked surprised. "No, god no. I'm mad at your brothers. Those assholes locked you in here. God, I always hated them but now it's infinitely more."
I laughed a little. "Yeah, I'm not too fond of them either to be honest." "Good." She spoke with a smile. After taping up the bandage she held my hand up, "Here, all done."
