On looking for bruises and blood.

Published January 22, 2014 by mandileighbean

This is going to seem like an incredibly odd way to begin this post, but I was honestly shocked by how difficult it is to find a picture of men and women dressed in fancy clothes while displaying bruises and blood. I know that is a terribly creepy image to search for, but when you read this week’s writing prompt, I’m hopeful you will understand.

That being said, I have a favor to ask. If you enjoy these weekly prompts, or read and enjoyed HER BEAUTIFUL MONSTER, please review my work! Add something to Amazon, or Goodreads, or even just leave a post on my Facebook page. The best way for a writer to be successful is to be known, so pretty, pretty please with sugar on top, spread the word if you enjoy my writing! And if you don’t, that’s cool, too! Please feel free to add critiques and tell me how I can get better. Both praise and constructive criticism are always welcome.

lonelybridesmaid

WEEKLY WRITING PROMPT #11: “Yes, and that’s why she broke the plate over his head.”

Gerard walked over slowly, limping ever so slightly, with one bottle of beer in each hand. Cold and wet from a cooler, the dripping water exploded against the searing pavement and made Gerard’s movements incredibly easy to trace. Kristen watched him advance with a bemused, bright smile, raising her hand to shield her squinting eyes from the sweltering sun. He offered a boyish, mischievous grin in return and Kristen knew she had to be careful now, because falling in love with someone like Gerard would be foolish, and her mother would be right, and she would most likely end up weird and alone. She shoved all that down and unnecessarily moved over on the second to last stone step of the church. Gerard took a seat and handed Kristen one of the amber-colored bottles. She took it and said thanks. Another moment was all she could stand before she just had to ask, “Why is it that you have cold beer in your car?”

Gerard threw his head back and laughed, not caring who was in ear shot or what those who gazed upon him might think of him, sitting in a tuxedo on the front steps of a church beside a beautiful, young woman in an incredibly expensive dress, drinking a beer. Kristen envied the total freedom he exuded, regardless of whether or not it was authentic. He clanked his bottle against hers, drank from it greedily, and then said, “Weddings are brutal, man. One must always be prepared.”

“Isn’t that the motto for the Boy Scouts?” Kristen asked,

Gerard nodded, taking another long drink. “Indeed it is, but my intentions were never so honorable or innocent.” He shot her a playful wink and she blushed appropriately, playing the game and being as coquettish as anyone would expect. Inside, though, it was murdering her and humiliating her. She wanted it to be more, to be substantial, to be the beginning of everything important, but she was terrified it meant nothing more than sharing a beer to Gerard, and all the conflicting thoughts and emotions and desires only served to make her nauseous. So she turned away. Gerard noticed and asked, “Is it that bad? Am I that hard to look at?”

Kristen turned back towards him. She understood that he was referring to his swelling bottom lip and left eye. The skin was puffed and quickly discoloring, turning from a normal kind of cream color to a gross, rough-looking black and blue. Blood was dried and flaking at the corner of his mouth, and it trailed down to his chin. She ran her fingers along the outside of her bottle, ensuring they were wet, and gently rubbed Gerard’s chin clean of blood. She let her fingers trail the lines of his jaw for just a second before coming back to herself and reality. She shrugged. “It’s not so bad. You definitely have a black eye, but girls are into that, especially if you make up a really cool, heroic story. Say you beat someone up because they said the kitten you rescued from a tree was stupid.” She gulped at the alcohol in the bottle, hating herself just a little more each time she opened her dumb mouth.

Gerard laughed. “Oh yeah, because that’s totally cool. You’ve always had your finger on the pulse of incoming trends, Kristen; that’s you all over.” Coming from anyone else, the sarcasm would have stung. But when it came from Gerard, it felt safe and warm, like belonging somewhere or being accepted. Kristen should have been happy, but she was never one to leave well enough alone.

“So what did happen? Why did Mark start swinging on you?”

Gerard immediately dropped his gaze, suddenly unwilling to look Kristen in the eye. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard, depending on his body to stall for time. He shifted in his seat and readjusted his grip on his bottle, so that the thumb of his right hand covered the circular opening. “Well,” Gerard began but wet his lips to pause, “it’s complicated. I’ll tell you everything later, especially if we’re drunk, but for now, let’s just say I was trying to encourage Mark to behave in a certain way, and he literally fought me on it.”

Kristen nodded and then dropped her gaze as well. What was that supposed to mean? If it was vague enough to be infuriating, but she supposed that was Gerard all over. He was enigmatic, but it was now at the point where it was no longer exciting. It was tiring and confusing. She rolled her eyes and drank. Gerard had seen. He had, in fact, been watching Kristen’s reaction very closely, eager for the blind loyalty she had always displayed, but expecting and dreading a negative judgment. He knew it was only a matter of time before she caught on to his bullshit and faded him out. “What the hell was that?” he asked, hurt and unable to keep it from his tone.

“What?” Kristen asked, honestly surprised.

“You just rolled your eyes at me. What gives?”

“Oh shit,” Kristen groaned. She covered her face with her hands, still holding the bottle. “I didn’t think you were looking.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Gerard’s voice became higher the more offended he became.

“No,” Kristen said, sounding miserable. “I just wish you would just tell me the truth, you know? I don’t need the games or intrigue, man. Just tell me what happened to your face.”

Gerard stared at Kristen, open-mouthed, while she stayed as she was, eyes closed and face covered. He was about to answer when one of a pair of bridesmaids, wearing dresses identical to Kristen’s dress, said, “Yes, and that’s when she broke the plate over his head!” The women laughed and continued on, apparently oblivious to the fact that they had just passed the topic of their conversation. Gerard shrunk as if the blows had been physical rather than of the verbal variety. Kristen let her hands drop and she turned back to Gerard, watching him suffering. A smile that honestly lacked amusement draped itself across her mouth.

“Gina did that to you? Not Mark?”

Gerard nodded.

“Oh my God,” Kristen laughed. “Why? And why did you lie?”

Gerard took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and spoke very quickly, as if rushing through it would minimize the consequences of revealing what had transpired. “I told Mark about how Gina had been sending me crazy text messages and how she had been trying to get me to meet her alone, but he didn’t believe me, so when he asked Gina about it, she flipped and attacked me, and said I was the crazy one, that I was stalking her, and what a mistake it had been to ever invite me.”

Kristen dropped the bottle she had been holding. It did not shatter, but rolled away quickly, leaking suds and foam and alcohol as it went. Kristen used her newly free hands to cover her mouth and stifle the inappropriate gales of shocked laughter that were threatening to overcome her. Gerard popped one eye open and chanced a glance at Kristen. When she didn’t seem completely disgusted, he relaxed. “Do you believe me?”

“It’s a weird thing to lie about,” Kristen said. “And it was kind of a dick move to wait until the wedding day, don’t you think?”

“It just started happening!” Gerard retorted defensively. “I thought it would be laughed off, chalked up to cold feet! I didn’t know I’d get roughed up and kicked out!” He ran a hand across his wearied face, but then stopped suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him. “Why did you follow me out of the church, by the way? No one was mad at you; no one was kicking you out. Why disgrace yourself by aligning with me?”

Kristen shrugged nervously wiped her palms against her dress, which was spread smooth across her thighs. “Well, it’s complicated. I’ll tell you everything later, especially if we’re drunk, but for now, let’s just say I was sending a message to everyone, you especially, but naturally, you missed it.” She stood and began walking away.

Gerard panicked. “What? Where are you going? You’re coming back, right?”

“I’m getting another beer,” Kristen called over her shoulder. Gerard asked her to bring back two and patiently waited.

lonelybestman

One comment on “On looking for bruises and blood.

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