6. Chapter Six

So, yeah, Frey's a f*****g ungrateful jerk when he's injured.

Warnings: Mild blood and gore (mostly in the way of caring for injuries), referenced/implied murder, referenced/implied abuse and domestic violence, disturbing/dark themes.

-Frey-

“You need to get up and leave this place, right now, Frey.” The Monster yelled at me, sending a prick of pain through my brain.

I rubbed my eyes, still leaning against the bathroom wall in that abandoned crack house. Since I had been stabbed, I was more focused on trying to keep my eyes open rather than moving or doing anything about the wound. I kept drifting off, nearly passing out from blood loss before the Monster sent pain through my body or disturbing memories through my eyes to wake me back up.

“Just lemme sleep... You always want me to sleep so you can f**k with me, lemme sleep then.” I mumbled in reply.

“If you fall asleep, you'll die.”

“Maybe I wanna f****n' die.” I snapped.

I was tired. Tired of everything. I felt nothing anymore, just emptiness... As empty as this fucked up life I had in this fucked up world full of empty minded idiots. I didn't even want to be here anymore, I didn't even feel like killing anymore, I didn't care anymore... I just didn't.

“Frey, get up... Before someone finds those bodies and finds you up here...”

I groaned and pulled myself up using the sink. I hissed when I put pressure on my injured leg, looking back down at the knife sticking out of it. I didn't know exactly what to do in a situation like this, so my dumbass took a deep breath and just yanked the knife out.

I bit into my arm to muffle the scream of pain, cursing when blood began gushing quickly down my leg. I covered the wound with my hand, staining my fingers red. I grabbed an old cloth off the floor and wrapped it around the wound to hopefully stop the bleeding and followed the Monster's directions to wherever it was leading me.

I held onto the walls as I walked down the sidewalk, the sun just starting to go down. Every step seemed harder than the last, and I nearly collapsed on the pavement a few times. I knew I was losing blood too fast, and I wouldn't last much longer like this. My head got lighter, my body felt colder and colder, and my heart started beating out of my chest.

“Keep moving.”

“F****n' s**t... I'm going to die, aren't I?” I asked the Monster in a hushed whisper. I just knew it in that moment. I swore I was going to die nameless and faceless on the street just like my victims... The irony was so fucked up it was almost poetic.

“You won't if you keep moving.”

What was even the point? A large part of me just wanted to lie down on the ground and wait for death to take me. What was the point of living anymore, maybe it was finally over and I could leave this f*****g useless waste of a planet. Maybe I wanted to die... Maybe I deserved to die.

I gave up when the Monster quit directing me and collapsed beside a bar, sliding down the building's outside wall to sit on the sidewalk. My eyes slid shut and I could feel my body shaking as I breathed rapid gasps of air.

The Monster began to order me to stay awake again, and I just ignored it. I just wanted it to leave me alone, just let me die... Just let me die.

“Frey?”

It was a different voice, not the Monster, a woman's voice. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. I couldn't put a face to the sound and I didn't feel like opening my eyes.

“Frey? Is that you? Are you all right?” The voice continued to bother me, and hands touched my arm only to be batted away. “What happened? You're bleeding. Who did this to you?”

The voice sounded so familiar... I just couldn't remember where I heard it. I wondered where exactly I was, where the Monster had led me.

“Frey, open your eyes and look at me.” The female's voice said, her tone more stern this time.

I opened my eyes and was met by a familiar looking face of a younger woman with red curls and freckles. She looked... Concerned?

“You... I know you...” I mumbled, confused. I couldn't remember where I knew her from...

“Yeah, I know you too. You're the dumbass that wanted to jump off a bridge a week ago...” She said with a smirk, “I got you food, remember?”

I nodded slowly, still having trouble recalling.

“Who did this to you? You're bleeding all over the sidewalk.” she pointed to my leg and the puddle of blood under it, “You need to see a doctor.”

I shook my head.

“Convince her to help you.” The Monster whispered.

Did the Monster lead me to her? She mentioned working at a bar, I paid little mind to it. Did the Monster keep that in mind, and lead me to her a week later to have her help me? Why? It never showed interest in anyone before... Much less let people help me.

“You need to go to a hospital, Frey. You're bleeding a s**t ton and it's freezing cold, com'on man.” The girl ran her hand through her hair, bending down to my level to see me better.

“Help me.” I mumbled, though asking for help made me feel sick to my stomach. “No cops. No hospitals. Nothin'... Just you.”

Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. “I'm not a doctor.” She said, slowly.

“I'm gonna die.” I said bluntly, catching her eyes.

She sighed, looking around as if to make sure no one was watching us. “Com'on...”

I never asked for help before, or asked anyone for anything before. I didn't like the feeling of it, it made me feel weak and I hated feeling weak. I was taught to be strong, to never ask for help, to never trust anyone. It was drilled in my head that humans were disgusting and wouldn't help me �" They were untrustworthy...

I thought the Monster shared these views with me...

//

-Rema-

The idiot could hardly stand, yet he insisted on walking on his own after I tried to help him. I walked slowly beside him as he used the wall now and again to keep himself upright, a blank expression on his face. He nearly fell twice on the walk, and did fall at the third stumble, but batted my hand away when I tried to help him up.

I hadn't seen him since I met him a week ago on that bridge, and somehow, he looked even worse than he did that night. He was pale, shaking, and unsteady, obviously in a lot of pain despite him not showing it. I didn't know why exactly he came to me, but I assumed he had no one else to turn to.

“It's this building right here.” I said once we got to my apartment complex. “The elevator has been broken for a while, so... We kinda gotta use the stairs.” I looked at him, chewing on my lip as he exhaled in frustration.

We only made it up two flights before he stumbled again and had to grab the rail to keep from falling down them. His head made contact with the railing hard, and again he swatted my hand away when I tried to help him.

“You can't even walk by yourself, let me help you for f**k's sake.” My voice was tight and he shot a glare at me, but refused my help.

Once inside, I had him sit on the sofa while I grabbed the first aid kit and hoped it would be enough. I was thankful as hell that Kacia wasn't home, I doubted she'd like me bringing a bleeding homeless stranger into our apartment.

I flipped on the living room light and he winced at the brightness, “How bad are you hurt?” I asked.

He shrugged, keeping his face hidden behind that hood.

“Is it just your leg?”

He shook his head.

I observed him for a moment, noticing the blood staining his jeans and the dark blue hood of his jacket. His hands were also very scraped up like he had been in a fist fight. Seeing him in the light, I could see just how bad off he actually looked. It hurt my chest to think he was alone like this, freezing cold and hurt in the street with no one bothering to help him.

“All right, take everything off. All the clothes you have on.” I ordered.

His head jerked up to look at me, his eyes narrowing. “What? Why?”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “So I can check you for injuries, genius! Plus, Your clothes are drenched and covered in blood.”

He looked uneasy, sinking back into the seat a bit. He didn't make a move to undress, his eyes just darting around the room like he expected someone to jump out at him. He seemed more paranoid than even me.

“I'm not going to do anything to you...” I said, lowering my voice.

He exhaled again, pulling his hood down to reveal a mess of long and knotted dark hair. Unzipping the hoodie, he threw it on the floor with his shirt following shortly after. I swallowed... His whole torso was littered with scars.

I noticed them on his face, and could see that he was blind from a large burn on the left side going from his forehead down to his cheekbone. I figured that the burn and other few scars was it... But I was wrong... He was completely covered in them. I couldn't tell where they all came from, most looked like knife wounds or like he had been beaten bloody with a belt, then there were circle shaped burns going up his spine and sides �" like someone had purposely put cigarettes out on him in some sort of sick art form. From what I could guess, they were all a few years old at least and healed completely...

I knew I was staring because he snarled at me, his face full of bitterness and... Shame? “Would ya quit lookin' at me like that?!” He snapped as he undid his belt.

I couldn't process what I was seeing. I didn't expect something like this... I had seen abuse before first hand. I watched my Mother be beat by my father, and was abused myself by my husband years later, but I never saw anything like Frey. It looked less like abuse and more like he barely escaped a snuff film. His state of homelessness made a lot more sense, I'd rather be homeless than live wherever he came from... His paranoia, lack of manners, and hateful aura made a lot more sense too...But, God, he looked so small in that moment.

He untied a dirty cloth on he had around his leg and yanked off his jeans after he kicked off his boots and I flashed forward when I saw the wound. He jerked away from me, but I grabbed his leg and held the same cloth to the wound as blood gushed onto the floor.

“What the hell is this?”

“It's nothin'.” He said simply.

I pulled back the cloth to look at it. It was a deep hole in his leg, so deep I was pretty sure it went through the muscle and maybe to the bone. What was he thinking walking around with a wound like this? He could have died, for f**k's sake!

“This is not nothing!” I snapped at him, “What happened? Did you get shot or stabbed or some s**t? F**k, no wonder you look like s**t �" you're bleeding out, you moron!”

“I know.”

I clenched my teeth... That same indifferent, blank tone. Someone had obviously attacked him, and he couldn't seem care less.

“Who did this to you?”

No answer.

“Are you in some kind of trouble or something?”

No answer, just a shrug.

“Was it the same person who gave you all those scars you have.” I asked, and I saw him tense. I was met with a hateful glare. “It's hard not to notice...”

It explained why he was so vague and on edge. Why he didn't want to go to police or a hospital. Why he wanted to jump that day... Maybe why he seemed so familiar to me. Victims can always spot victims. Even if they're closed off and dark vibed like him.

“Is somebody doing s**t to you? Who hurt you like this?” I demanded.

He shook his head, a slight smirk coming over his face. “The scars ain't related... And no body's hurting me... I ain't some kind of victim. Trust me on that.” I didn't like the sarcastic and dark undertones to his voice, but I didn't bother asking about it anymore. He obviously didn't want to talk about it.

I sighed and checked to see if the wound had stopped bleeding, trying to see just how deep it was. I grimaced at the look of it, it certainly looked like he'd been stabbed in the leg. I guessed he had yanked the knife out, despite the fact he could have bled to death by doing so. By the look of him, I assumed he had no idea how to properly care for serious wounds.

“You really should get stitches.” I grumbled, letting out a puff of breath. I shook my head and dipped a clean washcloth in soapy water, scrubbing at the wound to clean out the dirt. I glanced up while I held the peroxide bottle, “This is going to burn...” I warned before I poured it into the wound, “It'll help keep it from getting infected.”

His endurance was surprising, he must have had a very high pain tolerance. He barely winced as I fixed up the wound, only hissing and showing minor discomfort despite how painful it must have been. He just watched me with those empty eyes as I cleaned and bandaged the wound.

“Change that daily, okay? Or it's going to get infected and you'll be in for a hell of a lot of trouble.” I told him, standing up. “Now, is that all? Any more serious injuries?” I looked him over, seeing several scrapes and bruises on him, looking rather minor.

He did have blood on the back of his neck that seemed to stem from his head, and he let me check the back of his head. It looked like he'd been hit and split open, but he didn't show signs of serious head injury so I just washed it the best I could.

After fixing him up, he got dressed while I cleaned up the mess and fetched my cigarettes. I sat in one of the living room chairs and handed him a smoke and glass of water, observing the way he seemed to fade in and out of consciousness.

“Don't pass out.” I told him, “You lost a lot of blood. Drink first.”

He shot me a glare and grabbed the glass, looking at it as if it was poisoned before he drank. He was silent for a while, just staring at the floor before he spoke up. “I'll leave as soon as I can walk.”

It kind of upset me he really thought that badly of himself and others that I would just kick him out in the shape he was in. I doubted he'd make it two blocks before he collapsed. I wasn't heartless enough to just throw him back out on the street when he was hurt like that...

I shook my head, “Hell no. You're staying here for the night. It's freezing out there and you have a really serious injury, I'm not letting you go out there and end up dying in an alley somewhere.” I told him.

“Why do you want me to stay here? You don't even know me...”

“Why'd you come to me for help? You don't know me either.” I asked in return.

He looked around the room, shrugging. “I... Thought I was gonna die, and didn't know where else to go...” He muttered under his breath, speaking slow like he was unsure of his words.

“You really have no where to go?” I asked. “Family? Friends? Nothing?”

He shook his head.

I frowned, chewing on my fingernails as I looked at him. “How did you end up homeless? What happened?” My mind flashed back to the scars he had all over, I could still see them when I looked at him, even with his clothes covering them from view. I wondered if the scars had anything to do with his homelessness.

He crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “That really ain't none of yer business.”

This man was so mysterious and hard to read, and he had a vibe to him that felt threatening and dangerous... I didn't feel comfortable with him, and I realized that, yet... Something about him felt so familiar... My curiosity drove me mad.

Author's Note

Okay, so, next chapter here. Probably wanna read the previous ones if you just stumbled upon this, or shit won't make no sense to you.

Back in chapter five, Frey got pretty badly injured and was fading in and out of consciousness in an abandoned house's bathroom after he killed three people. Obviously, Frey has no idea how to take care of his injuries (yeah, never pull a fucking knife out of a stabwound, by the way. If this was real life, he more than likely would have bleed out here) so the Monster ends up leading him to Rema's work and convincing him to let Rema help him. Again, showing the Monster has a lot of interest and almost nearing trust in Rema, despite Frey not even knowing her.
Rema does help Frey, despite her paranoia and Frey's ungratefulness (Yeah, he's a fucking jerk in early chapters, and later chapters, and pretty much always.) She gets a better idea of who he is, though she's left with more questions than answers since Frey won't tell her shit.

Reviews and constructive criticism is welcome! I often reply and review people back 'cause I'm a friendly mofo and like talking to people (On the internet, in person I'm fucking anti social). So yeah, feedback, thoughts, comments, etc I really appricate!