Thanks to all those who participated in my first Write Along. We’ll have to do the next chapter sometime, I’m curious what happens! BTW, we need a title, any suggestions? Here’s the story:
The ones that don’t bleed right away are the worst cuts. Karen grabbed the dishcloth and pressed it hard against her palm. Great. Now she’d have to go to the hospital. Well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad after all. This would be the perfect opportunity to introduce herself to Dr. Wright.
With his ruffled black hair and green eyes, she wouldn't mind feeling his hands on her...in a purely medical way, of course.
She grabbed her keys and headed for her car, praying the old Dodge would turnover. Slipping onto the cracked vinyl seat, she turned the key.
And, her car didn't start.
It was a Dodge after all.
With her hand wrapped in a dishtowel (bleeding now), Karen fumbled in her purse for her cell phone.
It was not there!
Karen got back out of the car, trying not to get blood on the interior but failing miserably, and looked up and down the street. All of her neighbors worked, except for that strange guy two houses down, Ted, who always seemed to be home.
Ted came out of his house and stopped on his walkway, staring in her direction. Then a dark brown Jeep pulled up next to her.
"Hey, I need a ride to the hospital", she said to the driver.
"No way, lady, you'll bleed all over my new leather interior. Why don't you get that guy over there to give you a ride?"
"Hey, wait a minute," said Karen, squinting to get a better look at the driver. "You're Dr. Wright!"
Dr. Wright slouched in his drivers seat. "You got the wrong guy, lady." And before Karen knew it he was speeding down the street.
Ted began walking toward her, crossing the street. She was scared and hoped she'd misjudged her strange neighbor.
As he crossed the street, she noticed he was wearing a Harvard sweatshirt.
"I see you've cut your hand," he said, his voice gruff.
“Uh yeah," she replied. His eyes focused on the blood-soaked towel and he licked his lips.
Karen backed away, thinking her only escape was the house... Unfortunately it was locked..... and the keys were still in the car.
"I can take you to the hospital for a price," Ted said, still eyeing the towel.
Karen tried to shift her injured hand out of his line of sight, but he continued to follow her movements until it appeared they were dancing on the sidewalk. "P-price?" she repeated.
Now Tom looked her straight in the eye. His eyes, irises and all, were as black as two shards of coal. "I want three drops of your blood," he said. "For an experiment." He gestured to his Harvard sweatshirt.
Karen knew she needed stitches and the longer she waited the worse it would be. She nodded. "All right. Take the blood. But hurry!"
He grinned. "Don't worry. I just have to get my bicycle out of the garage. I don't own a car but you can ride on the handlebars."
"Bicycle?" she practically screamed the word. "You want to ride me on a bicycle? I'm seriously hurt here, jack-ass! Why don't you take your little bike and shove it up your butt."
She stormed away, mumbling obscenities to herself, but he came right after her.
"You need stitches, unless you plan to keep bleeding. Then I'll get my blood anyway." Tom face was pale and unblinking.
Before he knocked her over the head, she thought, "I should have known better than to trust a bicycle riding nut job from Harvard. Why couldn't he have graduated from Yale?"