//TW: Blood, Violence and Meatloaf//
Two minutes. We sat there in silence for two minutes.
I wasn’t going to be the first person to speak. I could have dragged it out. He was so upset. Couldn’t move away, but didn’t have the balls to speak. Three minutes. That’s when the moving started. Oh what an idiot, I only moved away for a second. I just let him though. I knew what was going to happen. And I was right. BANG.
There went little Chris and his chair, slamming into the floor. Mutt that didn’t make it over the fence. While this would’ve been funny, it was starting to piss me off how much wiggle room he was getting. How much he was trying to fight me. I liked a good fight, a cute struggle, but I couldn’t give Chris the idea that I’d go easy on him. He isn’t as small as the first one, could possibly get a good swing on me if I wasn’t careful. Last time I wasn’t—I was stabbed in the cheek by that first small, frail thing. Didn’t want to make that mistake again now with him, no no no.
So, I turned back around to see his panicked regretful face, as he laid on the floor. Eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. Even on the floor he was still stuck. Wrists tied to the armrests as they jammed into his side, legs pinned. Looked like he was hissing from pain in the left side of his head. Probably slammed it into the floor as he crashed down. Aw, how painful it must’ve been. But that wasn’t enough.
Then those eyes looked up at me. Begging for forgiveness because he couldn’t bear to say it outloud. Tsk, still trying to hang onto something. That wouldn’t last for long. I just had to smile at him, he really needed to think before he made such stupid decisions. Kick. Right in his face. I usually wear shoes in the house just for moments like this. Kick him when he’s down, and even when he’s not. But it’s much more satisfying when he’s down. The disobeying mutt yelped as the blood spilled through his teeth. His hands twitching and turning, unable to console his mouth. I said something along the lines of “God Chris. That was dumb. Did you really think I’d let you keep defying me? It’s all cute and fun, but you are not the one in charge.”
He just kept sputtering on the ground. I forgot that a mouth could bleed so much. “Jake..fuck.. I. I shouldn’t have.. I’m so-.” Enough of that shit. Just to shock him I shifted slightly to jam my foot into his stomach. Chris’s shout came with a tiny ping. A sparkle of white in all of that red. He tried to curl up the best he could. So cute. All of the blood from his mouth trailing down his jaw and chin. Trying to hide that pure fear. I couldn’t let that happen. Brought myself down to his level. The dirty ground. I think he knew I was coming down before I even decided to. Learning how all this goes. Curled up like a pup, except this one was shaking.
He could just never win could he? He knew I was there, but refused to look. That blood just continued to flow. I grabbed his chin, it didn’t really bother me that his blood was on my hands. Wasn’t the first time. It actually took a bit of effort to force him to look at me. He was still trying, how fun. When I didn’t quit, he did. Let me lift up that sad little head.
I used my thumb to rub a little line up and down his neck. Still holding his chin. Much more slippery with all that blood. He moved his head away a little, so I followed him. My pinkie found its way into the corner of his mouth, moving it all around. A half smile and a half frown. I have to wonder if I went further into his mouth would he have bitten me? I wish I would’ve tried that out. Seen how hard he would’ve bitten down, how much fight he could’ve managed in that position. Anyways, from that close, I could see how his eyes were starting to glaze over, how cold his face was, even with all that warm blood. As much as I wanted to stay and play, I couldn’t. His stomach cried out again, begging me in ways Chris wouldn’t. So, I removed my finger from his mouth, covered in blood, like the rest of my hand. I don’t remember how I thought of this, I guess I was wanting to get the blood off my hand, and I happened to remember as kids, Chris liked that little ‘Lion King’ movie. I Simba’d him. The look on his face was just so priceless. Made me laugh. I wiped the rest off on his cheek, painting his poor face with his own blood. I got up and left. Another rumble.
Another rumble. Oh god it was so painful. I wasn’t sure if I was more or less scared when he got up and left. It all hurt so bad, such…such an idiot for trying to get away. I couldn’t dare to move though. What if he heard me? I couldn’t. It felt like the room would start spinning if I got hit again. I could feel it between my teeth, that metallic non-stop flood. I don’t know why it wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. Just kept flooding. I wanted the blood off, of course he rubbed it on my face. I nearly wiped it off, onto my shoulder, the only thing I could reach. I had to stop myself. Bad idea, another bad idea. Dirtying my shirt could’ve made him want to change it. No. I couldn’t do that again. I tried to look up. It only caused me to cough. There was no point. All I could see was just that same white ceiling. Dirty white. Hopeless. I could’ve screamed, yelled or thrashed around. But I just laid there. Using what was left of my energy to lift my side from being stabbed by the armrest. I didn’t want another bruise. One that… he’d enjoy. What I would learn later was that my efforts meant nothing. I really didn’t know how I got myself into this position. We were childhood friends! I knew this bast-
Beep Beep Beep. Done. It didn’t take long. A simple little frozen meal for the starving pup. When I walked out with his meal, Chris was still on the floor. That blood was just everywhere. I put down the food, and got him a small rag. He refused at first, turning his head away. Only to choke from the effort. So, he gave in. Let me help his poor bleeding mouth. Who cares that it was my fault? About 10 minutes later, it seemed to mostly stop. The white towel I used was dyed red after. During it all, I knew the smell of the food was driving him mad. How he’d keep looking at the table, desperate to get it. What a fool, to think it was gonna be that easy. I grabbed the food and sat down in front of him. It was one of those meatloaf frozen meals. Green beans, dinner roll, mashed potatoes, and obviously the meatloaf. How kind of me to offer such a variety after the way he acted. I remember explaining it like this: “Chris. I know you are starving, so, I just simply want you to ask for this.” I picked up the roll and spun it. “Ask me to feed it to you. Just do it before I eat it all.” Then I took a quick bite from the bread. It’s funny how such simple things can become so hard in a situation like that. The desperation in his eyes. I think if he wasn’t tied up so well he would’ve lurched at me to snatch the food. I took a bite of the meatloaf, bit off half of two green beans, took a scoop of mashed potatoes. His stomach just growled and cried. Wondering what it had done to deserve such cruelty as it watched me eat its precious food.
That’s when he broke, crying out: “Just please feed me. God dammit please! I.. I won’t fight, I swear to god..” I took another bite from the protein he craved, and he shouted at me, “J-Jake! Please, I’m sorry. I swear to god I’m sorry. Please I.. I’m so hungry. Y-you’re right..!” He couldn’t get that desperate beg out quick enough. I swallowed the last little bit, smiling at him finally doing a good job after these last few days. So, he opened his mouth for me, still lying helplessly on the floor. Stretching out to chomp before the food was even close to his mouth. Mourning every small piece that fell. He couldn’t even eat properly.