"What's wrong with some light stabbing?"
Delving into vigilante-ism, Charlie Redmond has balance everything from her superhero neighbor to her math tests to her inability to talk about her feelings. Unlike her morally righteous co-worker, Spider-Man...
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"The chutzpah on this guy." Alex exclaims as he points to the gory picture on screen. Half of the red-head's guts were spilling out of his shirt in a perfectly Hollywood manor. After a clearly genius venture upstairs our supporting character has found himself at the clutches of the killer. "At this point he deserves to get stabbed."
Leaning further into the blue striped couch, I nod. My legs curled up underneath me while I balance a near-empty bowl of popcorn on my lap. Enjoying the lack of siblings, Alex splays out long flannel covered legs on his couch. A strip of blue covers the side of his face from when his little sister, Octavia, tried to draw on his face. Luckily for him, Octavia was more interested on doodling on my arms and cheek instead.
The typically more lively house unusually quiet. His mom is out on a date and the younger half of his siblings are already passed out, or at least pretending to be. As any "cool kid" would, Alex chose to spend the day sitting on the couch with me and some bad tv. And I'm more interested in loosing focus on someone else's violent problems than my own... or Jonathan's... or Peter's.
"More popcorn?" He asks already standing up with our bowls in his hands.
"Is that even a question?"
"Help me with the drinks." He nods at our glasses.
I grab both cups of off-brand soda from the coffee table and follow him into the kitchen. A thin space with bare essentials in miss matched materials. The fridge covered in everything from finger paintings to his older brother's graduation photo.
"Dude, you have blue in your eyebrows." He laughs, popping in another bag of popcorn into the microwave. The corner of his eyes crinkle as he attempts to keep down his noise for his siblings.
I rub my brows. "Shut up, you still have some on your face."
He swipes the back of his hand on his cheek causing it to smudge all the way to his nose. Covering my mouth with my palm, I suppress my giggles. Shooting me a mock glare, he wipes again only giving me further reason to laugh. The ordeal escalates till we both race for space at the sink, but the tint across his normally refined face still tickles me. "Don't laugh at me Smurfette."
"Yes, Grouchy." I say pressing my lips together, but a smile twitches across both of our faces.
We rub our skin, thankful that she hadn't used permeant marker. I peel off my jacket and quite quickly regret it. Before he can react I pull it back on.
Gently he grabs the corner of the jacket and slides it down so the caking blood is visible, causing me to wince as the fabric rubs the cut for a second time. "Charlie-"
"It's not that bad." I say, pulling my arm back. But he shoots me a look, making reluctantly leave my arm exposed.
As promised, I went to get it looked at, not by doctors, but by Rachel. She fixed and taught me how to do some of it, she didn't want me to take care of any "extreme" wounds without coming to her.
