ArchivedLogs:Fear of Expulsion
| Fear of Expulsion | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-02-28 Shock does funny things to people |
| Location
Lower East Side & Mel's apartment | |
YOUR PHONE RINGS OMG! IT'S SHELBY! Mel maybe scoffs a little at the caller ID, but she picks up. "Hey." Shelby is all incoherent sobbing on the other end, as if she hadn't heard Melinda answer. There are sirens in the middle distance, close enough to be heard through the wet, choking noises she's making but not so close as to overwhelm the crying. "M-mel, Mel I n-need help."
"...I d-d-dunno it's dark and I'm. I'm hiding. He's...I think he left but oh god oh god if he comes back and my /hand is on the wrong way/," Shelby blubbers on the other end. "My arm is /bent/ and my /hand/...I was...I was near Evolve and I'm hiding now and Mel I can't g-go out, there's b-blood can you come get me please? Oh please I'm so sorry." "Okay, Shelby, think. you know where I live. I am coming to get you, but are you closer to my apartment, or further up town?" Mel is grabbing her things and a blanket. There are several minutes of sniffs and gasps on the other end of the phone. Shelby's muscousy breaths grow fainter, as if she's pulled the receiver away from her head--she's looking around. When she comes back, her voice is marginally steadier. "C-closer," she says, "I'm. I'm a block over. From Evolve. Across from the. The Chinese grocery. In the alley. Please hurry, Mel, he might. He might come back and I made him so mad." Melinda stays on the phone, but really doesn't expect much conversation at the time. She grabs a first aid kit from the bathroom and heads out of her apartment, down the stairs, and out, taking a moment to pin point the location of the Chinese grocery and then run over. She's pretty safe about it, but there aren't as many cars out at this time of the night. She's dressed in jeans, a tee shirt of yellow, with her red coat, left open in her haste. She heads down the alley looking around. "Okay, call out to me. I'm here. I don't see anyone else around. You're safe." A block over, there is a crush of police cars, ambulances, firetrucks. They wash the buildings with spinning lights. Over here, in this alley, there is a dumpster. Shelby has remained on the line but as predicted, she's stopped talking in favor of crying some more. By the time Mel gets there, she's gotten most of the tears out of her system. It means that the girl who emerges from behind said dumpster is a horror to look at. The tears have carved tracks in the blood masking her face, there are scratches embedded with grit on her forehead, the tip of her nose, her left cheek. Worst of all is the arm held to her chest, the hand jutting outwards with its palm towards the woman. It looks like someone has taken the limb and twisted the bone, made the flesh bubble and curl above and below her wrist. Her fingers are splayed like bent twigs. She's shaking. "Mel? I'm...I'm here." Melinda hangs up and pockets the phone, having gotten from the girl on the way over that she doesn't want hospitals and no cops, which is expected for the most part. She keeps the first aid kit under one elbow as she opens up the blanket first, lifting it to wrap it around Shelby's shoulders. Eyes narrow as she takes in the younger female's appearance, but there's more concern in her eyes than scrutiny. "I saw the cops. Come on. You're coming back to my place for now. See if we can't get some of this cleaned up." The blankets are pulled completely around her form, before a bit is pulled up and over her head. "Lean on me, okay?" Shelby huddles small under the blanket, clutching it beneath her chin with her good hand and not shying from the invitation to lean. Her steps are shaky. "My arm is ruined," she whispers, "I try to move it and it just...it hurts. I'm going to kill that fucking asshole." The last comes out in a tone very different from the rest of her statement. It's flat and soft and serious. Then she's back to sniffing, roughing her eyes against the folds of the blankets as she allows Melinda to lead her off. Mournfully, with the sort of leap in thought that comes to the shocky, she adds, "I lost the lights for Jax's date this weekend." "I think we can find some more lights." Melinda latches on to the one thing that she can respond to at the moment and continues to lead the girl across the street, down the block and up into the stairwell to her apartment. She takes the stairs as slowly as is necessary for Shelby, rubbing at her good shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sure Jax can have all the little lights of his own creation if the mood struck him as well. So you lucked out on this one." "No, it was a surprise. For him." This draws a resurgence of the tears--teenagers never really dry up--and Shelby is quiet during the rest of the trip. She's not as unsteady on her feet as her injuries would suggest; most of the shock seems more mental than physical, in spite of her warped arm. As they crest the last set of stairs, she tilts her head to look up and over at Melinda. "I have to tell the twins. And Iolaus. And...oh shit, the school. They're gonna notice. I'm not there." "I can make phone calls, hun. I'm good at shit like that." Melinda gives her good shoulder a squeeze and leads her to the apartment, unlocking the door and ushering her in. "In fact, I'll call Jax first. He knows everyone involved. And without the lights, you don't have to ruin whatever surprise for him." Melinda doesn't stop moving Shelby until she's in the bathroom and sitting on the lidded toilet. Then, she finally pauses, puts the kit on the counter and starts to unwrap the blanket a bit. "Is anything broken? are you bleeding anywhere other than the head?" "My chest. My...my ribs, I think. He fell on me. And my back...I think he had his...his knee in my back. It hurts when I breathe in." Shelby sniffs more loudly, for a longer period of time, hawking back the goop that has done its best to glue shut the passages of her nose. Her face is a mess but it looks worse than it really is. There's a raised knot in the center of her forehead that's split open, the source of most of the blood. It's clotted and starting to bruise. The scratches elsewhere are scabbing over now too. "Not broken hurt," she adds, with some authority. "Jax...oh god, Mel. We can't...you can't tell Jax, he's like...it's not. No. It's...a bad time, he'll...maybe the doc. Iolaus? And...um." Who else does she know who won't go racing off to murder someone? She thinks hard, wincing when she rumples her forehead. "Professor Xavier. Maybe. Shit, I'm gonna be so expelled." "You're not going to be expelled," Melinda chides her quietly as she gets a clean cloth from the linen closet and soaks it in warm water. She then starts to dab at her face to clean it up. "You know Jax is going to find out anyway. I don't think the boys keep much from him." She sighs and considers. "Fine. What's the number for this Professor Xavier? I'll give the school a call." She washes away the tears too, lips pursing in concern. Shelby closes her eyes, both to keep water from them and to avoid having to see whatever might appear in Melinda's face as she surveys the damage. "It's in my phone. In my jacket." Which she can't reach for as it's on the wrong side. In that same pocket is a baggie fill of things which are definitely not phones, but she either neglects to mention this or has forgotten. Another sniff disturbs the face beneath the cloth. Occasionally she winces again, as street grit is dabbed away. "...they won't. They won't if I ask. He's got enough, right now." She pauses for a beat. "You didn't ask what happened." "I figure when you are ready, you'll tell me what happened." Melinda finishes cleaning Shelby's face before she starts to smear some ointment gingerly on the cuts and scrapes. She inhales and exhales quietly, turning her attention down to the girl's arm, licking her lips. "Do you want ice or heat on that? If it's tense, heat. If it's swelling anywhere, we'll put ice on it." She then reaches into her pocket and pulls out the phone, some of the other stuff falling onto the ground. "I don't even know /how/ to tell," Shelby mourns, her face twisting up to make it a challenge for ointment-dabbing. "It was...nngh." The girl keeps her eyes firmly closed, though she certainly knows what Mel is referring to. She just refuses to look. "It's...I don't think it's either. It's just. He changed it. He's...he was a mutant. Just. Not like any of the ones we know. Shit, Mel..." Everything crumples as she fights to keep from bawling again--good thing for the teenager, she hears the crinkle of plastic and is able to seize on it as a distraction. "You know how to roll a doob?" "Oh. Well. It's been years." Melinda considers this, and then justifies herself, "I was a rebellious teenager for a week or two." She looks to the plastic on the ground and lifts it up. "Do you really want it? I mean, we're calling your school. It might not be best to go in stoned." She keeps a hand on her side, ready to hug the girl if she needs it. "I guess you're right." And that is the greatest trauma of all. Shelby just gives in and leans forward to press her face against the other woman's shoulder. At least what soaks through the t-shirt will be mostly saline and ointment, thanks to Melinda's cleaning efforts. "Maybe after they kick me out. I wasn't supposed to be in the city. This wasn't...supposed to happen and I'm so sorry, Mel, I bled on you and you came out anyway and I can't play guitar anymore..." "Shhhh," Melinda replies, holding Shelby gently and gingerly rubbing her back. "I am not a doctor. I have no idea what is going on with your hand, but do not give up on your dream yet." She exhales softly and keeps holding her. "This... right now, it's not permanent. There are doctors who will look at your hand and they will find ways to fix this." She purses her lips as she continues to hold her. "It's going to be okay." Shelby is actually content, for once without the aid of narcotics, to be held until this second bout of misery has run its course. There will be others, no doubt, but this one ends with a hiccup and the pressing of her cheek against the wet spot she's created on Mel's shirt. She's staring at the wall instead of her arm. "I felt the bone move," she says quietly, "like when you twist a balloon animal to make a head and neck." After a pause, she sighs, "None of my shirts are gonna fit right now." Because that's important, right? "What should I tell your school? You were attacked? Was this a random thing on the street, or d... is this a bigger problem?" Melinda pulls a way a little to look at the girl's face. "It doesn't matter what it is, I just want to give them the information that you want them to have." "I never saw the guy before." When Melinda draws away, Shelby eases back too and regards her with a mixture of exhaustion and misery. "I would've remembered. Half his face was fucked up. And he smelled like the streets. I think he was crazy." A sound theory. Something else occurs to her. "He just...he just came after me. But I kinda...one of my drawings. I had one of my drawings on me and it went on him when he grabbed me. He's got a dragon on his face now." "Well, I think he is about the most recognizable face right now, if we were actually going to sic the police on him." Melinda sighs and turns to get a bandage to press on the split knot, letting some sterile fabric sop up the other fluids oozing from it slowly. "And I know who to avoid if I see him in the neighborhood." She gnaws on her lip a little. "Come on. We're going to try and get you out of those clothes and into something clean - unless you want a shower too? Really, I just want to get you in bed and covered in blankets until the shock wears off a bit." "No!" Shelby reacts immediately to mention of the cops--though she tries to remain obediently still for the placement of the bandage. "No, no cops. They ask too many questions and then they'll go to the school and...it'll just fuck everything up for /everyone/, Mel. But if you see him...shit, yeah, if you see him you just fucking run." She joins the other woman in chewing on her own lip, bruised brow trying to rumple but doing a poor job of it thanks to swelling. At Melinda's urging, she wobbles to her feet. "I just wanna...like. Sleep. Forever." "I said 'if' sweetie. I'm not going to get anyone in trouble. Besides, from what I know, cops are only useful for people who live on the grid." Melinda doesn't sound very convincing as she mentions cops and their usefulness. She slowly straightens up and gets to her feet, helping Shelby get up as well. "Sleep is important. I'll give the school a call tonight and I'll drive you back in the morning." Now that sleep has been mentioned, her body is letting her know how much it craves it. Shelby assumes shuffling zombie mode, her only advantage having some familiarity in the layout of the apartment. It means less stumbling against the unfortunate woman assisting her. "If they want me back," she mumbles unhappily, clutching the blanket under her chin again--more to hide the arm beneath than for its warmth. "/I'd/ kick me out. Maybe Jax'll adopt me too, if he doesn't die." Melinda leads Shelby toward her bedroom, opening the door and turning on the light. "I think I'm going to have to put a moritorum on Jax getting more kids. He's got enough as it is." She purses her lips as she moves Shelby to sit down on the bed before kneeling to take off her footwear. "There's no reason why your school wouldn't want you. Some outsider attacked you while you were skipping class. Skipping class is not an offense punishable by expulsion. You're likely going to end up in boring detention, which will likely be overlooked because you have medical issues to attend to now. Your school will want you." Shelby peers down at Melinda, somewhat uncomfortable with this level of service but too tired to protest it. She squints instead. "I haven't started classes yet," she says, trying to go along with the optimism. "Maybe that'll help." Once the shoes are off, she eases herself backwards onto the bed, blanket, dirty clothes and all. These sheets will need washing. The ceiling maybe too, given the caliber of look she gives it before her eyes close. Without looking over, she says, "Thanks, Mel." "I'm going to get you some aspirin. Don't fall asleep quite yet." Melinda covers her up with more blankets before leaving the room. She returns a little bit later with a couple white pills and a small glass of water. "You're going to be sore, but this is all I've got that will help and not get you in trouble." "Thanks," Shelby repeats, the mumble of her voice closer to sleepy than is probably recommended for swallowing pills. She levers herself up with some difficulty to take them, along with a swallow of water, before carefully resting back against the pillows. The sigh that follows vents some of the stress of the evening, if not all of it. "Really. Thanks. I'm..." Sleeping. Melinda tucks Shelby into bed and then heads back to the other room, using the girl's cell phone and calling her school. | |
