Grasping for straws (Grim)

The wind that blows today is cold, icy to be precise and it smells like snow. Most likely the land will be covered in a soft white layer tomorrow. Above me the stars are twinkling down on me as if they were having some fun with me.

I’m not in the mood to twinkle back or go home to my fathers house where my girl friend is waiting for me. Instead I retreat inside the old run down house, that once used to belong to my grand father with the half caved in ceiling and no more than two usable rooms.

There’s a fire crackling in the fire place providing a little warmth. Good enough for me as tonight I’m not concerned about warmth. I’m preoccupied dealing with what happened today.

Sore doesn’t quite cut it. THAT girl almost fractured my left collar bone and my jaw. I had to see our family doctor to make sure it’s not actually broken, who preceeded to wrap my shoulder up, stitch my tongue that had gotten in the way of one of her elbow whacks with 7 stitches and hook me up with a nice load of morphling. Thank goodness for that nice old man. He’s always been a good address to run to.

What he couldn’t mend was the damage she’s done to my ego though. The way she teased and pursed her lips, making me think she was flirting with me before she handed me my ass on a golden platter like no other girl before. Every one of her moves was so harsh and out of place in a training center and when she had me on the ground bleeding she suddenly seemed to care and worry. What a bitch. Classical female. Exactly the kind I hate.
For many years my father had told me to be weary of women, that they screw with your mind and heart just to tear it right out, that they say one thing and mean another, that they’ll give false signals, seduce you, make you feel cozy, then tear you apart.
I should have listened.

Kyanite made me soft. For her I was ready to throw caution to the wind. Heck, I even thought I could be one of those guys who understand girls but I wouldn’t be lying here on the sofa of the old house staring up at the ceiling if I was.


The bruise forming on my cheek has the shape of a purple have moon. It’s so swollen that I can’t even drink any water. All I constantly do is suck back the saliva that’s building when I suck on those damn stitches.
She got me good, that red head. Left me in a lot of pain.

If Kyanite could see me like this she’d loose it. Better that I’m not near her. She might not like a few other things about me tonight. If I could I’d take it out on the old punching bag that’s hanging nearby or drink half a bottle of whiskey but neither is possible so I squeeze my eyes shut trying to blend out the throbbing in my jaw and shoulder.

Hours later I wake from the first 30 minutes of uninterrupted sleep I’ve gotten all night due to pain.

Another day of working through it, another day of anger and resentment.
I’m plummeting into a girl hating place faster than I can try to cope.

So when Monday arrives and I have no option but show up to receive my punishment if I don’t want to get in trouble again, I’m like a loaded canon.

A hood covers most of my head but even now the bruise is so obvious…her victory over me. There’s no hiding that. I hate her and she will feel it when she shows up.

With a gaze of steel I show up at the career center managers office and opt for a spot on the opposite wall. A look at my watch tells me I’m a few minutes early.
Take a deep breath. Stay calm!