Good morning everyone. I have a good feeling about today. I slept well and while while the scent of the brewing coffee is enticing, it doesn’t make me feel like a zombie seeking brains. Which is always a good sign. Don’t get me wrong, I still want a cup. But in a less ‘must have brains,’ kind of way. So now that that’s cleared up, how about we start on the morning prompt? Ready, set, write!
Okay I kind of like this one. I’m not sure how his hands got burnt. And I’m pretty sure this wants to be a science fiction story. But it is now on my list of things to figure out. Actually I’ll probably be thinking about it most of the day.
Thursday, February 24th: He caught it with great difficulty.
He caught it with great difficulty. It was with even greater difficulty that he tried not to let the pain show. He smiled and tossed the ball back. They mocked him for his clumsy efforts but then went back to their game, forgetting he ever existed. Evan tried not to let his relief show.
He kept his pace steady as he passed, in case any of them bothered to look his way. He had known all of those playing his entire life. Showing weakness in front of them was like dropping a wounded seal into a shark tank. The moment they smelled blood they’d tear him to shreds. He felt the pain throbbing through his hands.
That morning he cleaned the burns with antiseptic even though it felt like he was pouring acid into his skin. Alone in the bathroom he let the tears stream down his face and the snot dribble out of his nose. Securing his damages hands from potential infection had been the most painful part. Once they were clean, he sprayed a topical pain reliever over them and covered them with Nu skin.
The topical got him through classes and let him put up a façade of normality. There were twitches of pain that came through the medication but for the most part he was fine. The combination of the numbing agent and the stiff Nu Skin made him clumsier than usual. While he wasn’t the most dexterous of individuals, usually the damage was minimal. Today he left a wake of splatters and spills trailing behind him.
As he started for home he could feel the pain threatening to break through the last of the topicals. Catching the soccer ball with both hands, palms slapping against the ball as it hit with force, uncaged the pain and sent it screaming through him. As he walked he concentrated on not moving his hands. No wiggling of the fingers, no bending of the knuckles. Nothing that would disturb the skin. It still hurt and he could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his palms, but after a few paces it faded into something more manageable. The pain was making his hands almost numb, as though the nerve endings were burning out. As long as he didn’t trust the sensation and give into the urge to move his fingers, he would be fine until he was once behind the closed doors of his apartment. Then he could feel the pain again and deal with the damage.
‘I should have let it hit me in the face,’ he thought as he walked. There would have been more pain and possibly a bloody nose, but his hands would have been spared. He would have taken a light teasing for his absentmindedness, but that was it. Still when the ball came flying at him, lifting his hands had been instinctual. As had hiding the pain.
Evan thought about that as he walked. The path he took was out of the direct line of play. There was no logical reason for the ball to have come out in his direction. It had to have been aimed. The recalled Jake’s face as he threw it back. The look on his face had been what caused Evan to hide every ounce of his pain. There was something there, something beyond the usual bullying.
Ten til Midnight 