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My own sick on my chin is enough to make me want to hurl on its own, but Tyler seeing me like this makes me feel actually nauseated. I’m not sure why this late in the game I'm now so worried about how he sees me, he has ripped me apart with ease in front of the same ever trembling crowd too many times to number.
Donnie, some hippie fucker with a dopey ponytail, had ever so kindly asked me to fight. I have no issues with hippies, I mean I don’t have an opinion, but he was a hippie fucker.
Not even 24 hours ago I had been slammed into the floor by the appropriately named “big boy” and still I said yes to Donnie. After looking at Donnie, I made a snap judgement. They do say to never judge a book by its cover, in my defense his arms were twigs, somehow more so than mine.
I had seen him around at the bar before this happened, when I met Tyler the first time. We (me and Tyler) had gone on this long rant about the hippie movement for some reason, it only slightly went in tandem with the rest of our conversation, but it started with Donnie.
My head started to feel like a weight to carry, slumping down as my palm held me up. It was weak, I know for a fact I look weak.
The floor
The skin of my hand pressed firmly into the floor of the basement, usually I found the feeling of a rough floor on my hand to be uncomfortable. I'd have to move quickly, made me feel uneasy. I now find myself seeking it, the only thing even slightly grounding in the middle of the swirling circle that had a pulse and seemed to glow.
My arm shook with the weight of me, lowering down to my forearm. Small gasps are leaving my mouth, the kinds of sounds I'm finding it hard to control. I’m in pain, so much, but I can't get my mind off of my surroundings, thinking of anything but how I feel.
Picture me, stomach down, shirts been off and tattered, shaking, blood dripping from my mouth to the floor.
The room spins, like it always did. The lights that were so clear prior to now were suddenly dim, i could hardly see them, i could hardly keep my eyes open. I know it’s going to hurt when I finally try to move at all.
Like a bandaid i tell myself
I lift my head enough to make out the feet of everyone standing around me, I'm particularly searching for a certain pair. Not sure why considering I don't know what Tyler's feet look like.
No
No
Definitely not
Somehow his stance gave him away, his feet just slightly closer to me than anyone else’s. Instinct would take everyone’s bodies back just a bit as the fights went on, sure of everything else he did, this was no exception. Tyler was concrete. Confident he wouldn’t get hurt, confident it wouldn’t matter, really I don't know. He didn’t move, didn’t look like he was thinking about it either. Tyler was concrete. Always concrete when it came to me, still I found myself worrying he’d look at me different with blood on my face.
He knew better than you, no matter who you were, he simply knew better and even if he didn’t he made you feel like he did. I knew I'd feel like that the second I saw him, same as I did after every fight.
I’m writhing on the floor like some animal that had been run over by a shitty Volkswagen.
I consider trying to get up, or possibly get back onto my knees, maybe just lay the fuck down. Everyone here saw my fight, I think they’d spare me the judgement for my choice to rest.
Instead of the thought over choices I instead craned my neck til I could slightly see his upper body.
My eyes were probably bloodshot. I imagine they’re slightly swollen, the slight overhang of my eyelid suddenly appearing more obvious. I feel my heart in my ribs and my hunger for more suddenly noticeable.
Something to make my headache worse.
A slap in the face or something.
Shaking me violently back and forth, my head hitting the floor over and over again.
An uppercut that leaves me unable to form a coherent thought for the stretch that I'm affected by.
A firm hand around my neck, snuffing my airflow just enough to drown out the rest of my life til that moment.
It feels stupid to want that shit, but when you’re blissfully feeling nothing, you don’t want to let anything have the chance to creep back in and ruin it. So another hit sounds nice, another shot to send more blood flooding out of my nose and mouth.
My strength depleted slightly, my head lowering again due to the very lack of ability to keep it up. It’s a tight stinging feeling in my arms that almost tingles, still trembling.
My chest is still heaving, it has now been two minutes since the fight ended.
A click, slightly different from the usual sounds that can be heard from down here. Usually it’s distant conversation or heavy footsteps from big ass guys in big ass boots.
It sounded closer to being from a mouth, between teeth. Again, now accompanied by a snap.
Slowly, even through limited vision I can see Tyler's feet padding over to me, the very short distance that it is.
I try to control my shaking, my weak stutters, my body threatening to give out in all aspects.
My feet, tops down against the ground.
My chest, flat on the floor.
My arms, poorly trying to keep me up.
I can't stop shaking, and as the pain drops I start to wonder why I'm still shaking. Could be exhaustion.
“Could be exhaustion.” Tyler’s voice, quiet, polite, and almost dainty as it was yet effortlessly confident.
I nod my head painfully.
I exhale, a drop of blood hitting the floor. My breath is shaky and loud, everyone in this circle from front to back could hear it if they listened, and unfortunately they all were.
I hear a sound, something adjacent to his bone making a small cracking noise. His finger is the first thing I feel, at my Adam's apple.
The second he touches me the urge to get up goes hand in hand with a new ability to get up.
I shift slowly, his other hand coming to my shoulder in a touch that’s more of a graze.
Something about this feels both grounding and menacing, like he’s mocking me.
His finger on my Adam's apple moves slowly up my throat, gently urging me to look at him.
The rest of his fingers now come to rest on the area of my neck closer to my chin.
It’s a gentle hold but I feel the worry he’s going to force me up and the hope that he’ll hit me.
If my eyes meet his, i’ll be an open book
If i avoid if ill be an open book
If i-
Eyes, a deep blue, a bit of grey, a hint of green if you care to look. a look that said i was readable, he could see right through me.
I’m sure of it.
His thumb runs over the usually rough skin of my chin now slightly pruned with blood and spit and sick. My eyes are looking at every corner and crevice of his face, moving at a rapid speed and reactive to every slight movement or sound. I’m sure now he reads that I have no idea what he’s doing or what he will do.
He narrows his eyes at me
What does that mean?
He’s probably thinking now that I'm fragile.
“You’re strong.. you got this.” Tyler mutters, a tone for only me to hear, and it would have worked if everyone wasn’t being dead silent. “Get up..”
I blink, my head tilting just slightly.
Oh Tyler, I want to listen to you Tyler.
His thumb now smears the blood, his eyes looking directly into mine. He doesn’t look at what he’s doing to my chin, just my eyes. “I know you can.”
“I can’t..” I say weakly, I want to plead to just stay here, dismiss everyone, let him do it the way i can’t. I also want to get up and prove him right, watch the corner of his lips lift as he feels the satisfaction of being right.
I know you can.
A tear falls from my eye, slowly, and to my own obligation.
His expression seems to soften only slightly, leaning more toward a pity.
Slowly, tenderly, his thumb moves from my chin to my cheek. He swipes the tear away gently, I can imagine the percentage of my face that’s covered in blood is being raised with every move he makes of that hand.
I shouldn’t be crying in front of him.
I actually don’t think I ever have.
Stop crying..
Don’t cry..
“Don’t cry..” Tyler insists, his tone too kind to be true.
The people in the circle feel like distant memories, dreams you can’t quite recall.
I can only see a dim golden light behind Tyler's head, making his face slightly harder to see. This scene looks like something only a production crew could create.
If i’m lucky, this is real and he’s here, looking like an angel sent straight from the man upstairs.
If I'm lucky he will give me a small smile with pride as he looks at me and my wounds will heal.
If I'm lucky..
Tyler…
If im lucky he’ll pick me up, hell free me from the floor
If i’m lucky he’ll go against everything he’s ever done and
“Tyler..”
If I was lucky, he would kiss me.
He gives a small nod, one urging me to continue on with whatever it is I have to say. Such a small action and I'm tingling in every part of my chest. I had nothing to say, everything to think, nothing to say.
“I..” I weakly attempt to speak. It fades into nothing as he turns his head. I hear him say something relating to ‘go home’ or ‘leave’. I can feel the small vibrations of everyone leaving as quickly as possible, part of me was surprised. Donnie left a parting glance, seeming remorseful, but altogether unreadable in Tyler's eyes.
I need to get up, or try to. I need to at least move a bit. It feels like I'd be here forever if I don't. Now feeling only slightly more comfortable, I finally start to try and move. Tyler quickly turns his head back to me, his eyes now moving with that frantic edge as he ensures I'm not hurt or maybe he’s just trying to analyze my body and see what might hurt as I move.
His hand moves quicker than before, sliding from my face into my hair. “Hey..” Tyler says, i stop immediately, nodding. I know I look eager, eager for something. My eyes are looking into his as if they’re gonna fix my broken body. I feel his hand moving along the top of my head to the back. His fingers play with my hair, twisting it between them. I feel them card through the short strands, suddenly yanking my head back.
My eyes don’t widen, I think my mind reacts like that but my face can’t keep up. At every allusion to kindness he gives me, I'm reminded time and time again that he will never see me how I see him. I gasp out another quiet.. “Tyler.”
“Get up.”