Mathis the Mountain Man
- 2 years ago
- 46
- 0
ICan't Do This - Chapter 1 free porn video
iCarly: iCan't Do This - Chapter 1: Shattered Glass
My hand goes right through the window and the glass shatters; and the sound seems to rip through everything and leave a vacuum of silence behind where we're all just standing, stunned. And I don't remember going to punch it, all I remember is being angry and the stupid half-wall and window on wheels we were using for an iCarly segment being in my way. And now my hand is through it and there's glass everywhere, and it's not the best decision I've ever made.
There's a beat where I can't hear anything and I can't move, and then Carly's taking my hand, moving it out of the window frame and brushing glass off it. And it's like it's then that my heart starts beating again, and blood starts welling from my split knuckles and pattering on the wooden floor. And I can only stand there, amazed at how easily it comes out and how much there is of it and then Carly's moving me and sitting me down and yelling to Freddie but I don't hear the words. It's stupid. It's so stupid. I don't even know why I got so angry anymore.
But it was good to feel something that strong that it wiped out everything else. And I can feel now, underneath the aching throb of my hand, the washed out feeling that I usually have. It's like I remember feeling something, a long time ago, but it's gone now, and all I'm left with is a memory and an old t-shirt.
Carly's saying my name. She's saying it over and over and over and touching my face, her fingers flitting against my cheek like a butterfly. So I try and concentrate, because I never want to miss a word she says.
"Sam? Sam? Look at me, 'kay? Oh god, there's so much blood."
And I want to comfort her and tell her it's okay but for some reason I can't. I can't seem to do anything. Her face is breaking my heart. But then, my heart is used to it, so it's almost comforting. She's turning her face away and I feel sad, and then Spencer's there pressing a wet cloth on my hand, and it stings like hell and makes me hiss.
Somehow we're in Spencer's car, and I don't remember how I got there, but Carly's sitting next to me so it's okay. And I can feel that something's wrong in my head. My thoughts are all slow and stupid and I can't seem to do anything or want to do anything. I hear the word 'shock' being thrown around a lot, so that's probably it, though I don't feel shocked. Just sleepy. I wonder vaguely what's going to happen to all that blood I left at Carly's. And I decide I'll clean it up, I'll clean it all up because at least it's one mess I can fix.
And I think I'm saying sorry to Carly, over and over again, and it's making her cry but I can't stop it.
I feel a little better when the stitches are in and they're wrapping my hand up, even though my hand stings and feels like a bunch of raw nerves. I can see Carly off to the side, PearPhone to her ear, and I know she's calling my mom. And I feel like telling her not to bother, because even if my mom was somehow awake and sober, she still wouldn't care. And then she's coming back, and I can tell she couldn't reach her. And even though that's what I expected it still feels like a kick in the gut. But she's smiling and trying to be brave. For me.
"Hey Sam, how you feelin'?"
I laughed, "You should see the other guy." And I'm putting on as much bravado as I can at the moment, but it's coming through a little false and she can feel it.
Spencer's just sitting off to the side, his fist against his mouth and his brow furrowed, and I can tell he's upset and I'm sorry for that too. But he makes an effort too and smiles a little. She waves her PearPhone at me,
"Your mom's phone must be off or something. But I'm sure she'll be here soon. I left her like a dozen messages."
And I smile again, but it's not a happy smile, it's a we-both-know-she's-not-coming smile. And she looks down, because she knows I'm right. I take a deep breath and flex my shredded hand, which is now all nicely wrapped up. It's funny how you know that on the inside it's a mess, all shredded skin and exposed bone and everything, but when it's all wrapped up like this, it looks like nothing. It looks fine. And I guess that's symbolic or something, but I never paid too much attention in English.
"Look, Carls, I'm sorry I broke your window." She gives me this funny smile, which I understand because it wasn't a real window and it's such a trite thing to say.
"It's okay Sam, really. I'm sorry my window broke your hand." And she takes my hurt hand lightly and strokes it with her thumb. And although it hurts like hell, it makes me feel better and I don't want her to stop. And I could let it go there, but that's not who I am. I don't know when to stop.
"No, really. I'm sorry I got that angry. I'm just glad I didn't hit you!" And although I say it in a joking voice, she flinches, and I realise she thought I was going to. I grab her shoulders, and although I feel my wounds start to open again and scream at me I don't let go. "Carly, I was joking! You know I'd never... I mean I couldn't.... ever hit you. You know that don't you?"
And she's trying to shrug it off like it's no big thing, but it's huge. It's huge and terrifying and ripping the shit out of my heart. I scared her. I scared Carly so much she thought I'd hit her. She thought I could hit her. And what kind of person am I that my best friend is scared I'm gonna hit her? What kind of person am I that she would think I could do that?
But I'm Sam Puckett.
Of course I'd do that. I punch people all the time. Even people I like. And I get into fights and pick locks and I'm unreliable and violent and rude. But I thought Carly knew me better. I thought she thought of me differently than anyone else did – because I would never ever hit her, no matter how angry I got.
Carly's taking my hand again, but she won't look at me, instead just fussing over the reddening bandage and rousing Spencer to get a nurse. And she's asking me if it hurts and it does, soooo fucking much, but it's not in my hand…
…it's in my chest.
My hand goes right through the window and the glass shatters; and the sound seems to rip through everything and leave a vacuum of silence behind where we're all just standing, stunned. And I don't remember going to punch it, all I remember is being angry and the stupid half-wall and window on wheels we were using for an iCarly segment being in my way. And now my hand is through it and there's glass everywhere, and it's not the best decision I've ever made.
There's a beat where I can't hear anything and I can't move, and then Carly's taking my hand, moving it out of the window frame and brushing glass off it. And it's like it's then that my heart starts beating again, and blood starts welling from my split knuckles and pattering on the wooden floor. And I can only stand there, amazed at how easily it comes out and how much there is of it and then Carly's moving me and sitting me down and yelling to Freddie but I don't hear the words. It's stupid. It's so stupid. I don't even know why I got so angry anymore.
But it was good to feel something that strong that it wiped out everything else. And I can feel now, underneath the aching throb of my hand, the washed out feeling that I usually have. It's like I remember feeling something, a long time ago, but it's gone now, and all I'm left with is a memory and an old t-shirt.
Carly's saying my name. She's saying it over and over and over and touching my face, her fingers flitting against my cheek like a butterfly. So I try and concentrate, because I never want to miss a word she says.
"Sam? Sam? Look at me, 'kay? Oh god, there's so much blood."
And I want to comfort her and tell her it's okay but for some reason I can't. I can't seem to do anything. Her face is breaking my heart. But then, my heart is used to it, so it's almost comforting. She's turning her face away and I feel sad, and then Spencer's there pressing a wet cloth on my hand, and it stings like hell and makes me hiss.
Somehow we're in Spencer's car, and I don't remember how I got there, but Carly's sitting next to me so it's okay. And I can feel that something's wrong in my head. My thoughts are all slow and stupid and I can't seem to do anything or want to do anything. I hear the word 'shock' being thrown around a lot, so that's probably it, though I don't feel shocked. Just sleepy. I wonder vaguely what's going to happen to all that blood I left at Carly's. And I decide I'll clean it up, I'll clean it all up because at least it's one mess I can fix.
And I think I'm saying sorry to Carly, over and over again, and it's making her cry but I can't stop it.
I feel a little better when the stitches are in and they're wrapping my hand up, even though my hand stings and feels like a bunch of raw nerves. I can see Carly off to the side, PearPhone to her ear, and I know she's calling my mom. And I feel like telling her not to bother, because even if my mom was somehow awake and sober, she still wouldn't care. And then she's coming back, and I can tell she couldn't reach her. And even though that's what I expected it still feels like a kick in the gut. But she's smiling and trying to be brave. For me.
"Hey Sam, how you feelin'?"
I laughed, "You should see the other guy." And I'm putting on as much bravado as I can at the moment, but it's coming through a little false and she can feel it.
Spencer's just sitting off to the side, his fist against his mouth and his brow furrowed, and I can tell he's upset and I'm sorry for that too. But he makes an effort too and smiles a little. She waves her PearPhone at me,
"Your mom's phone must be off or something. But I'm sure she'll be here soon. I left her like a dozen messages."
And I smile again, but it's not a happy smile, it's a we-both-know-she's-not-coming smile. And she looks down, because she knows I'm right. I take a deep breath and flex my shredded hand, which is now all nicely wrapped up. It's funny how you know that on the inside it's a mess, all shredded skin and exposed bone and everything, but when it's all wrapped up like this, it looks like nothing. It looks fine. And I guess that's symbolic or something, but I never paid too much attention in English.
"Look, Carls, I'm sorry I broke your window." She gives me this funny smile, which I understand because it wasn't a real window and it's such a trite thing to say.
"It's okay Sam, really. I'm sorry my window broke your hand." And she takes my hurt hand lightly and strokes it with her thumb. And although it hurts like hell, it makes me feel better and I don't want her to stop. And I could let it go there, but that's not who I am. I don't know when to stop.
"No, really. I'm sorry I got that angry. I'm just glad I didn't hit you!" And although I say it in a joking voice, she flinches, and I realise she thought I was going to. I grab her shoulders, and although I feel my wounds start to open again and scream at me I don't let go. "Carly, I was joking! You know I'd never... I mean I couldn't.... ever hit you. You know that don't you?"
And she's trying to shrug it off like it's no big thing, but it's huge. It's huge and terrifying and ripping the shit out of my heart. I scared her. I scared Carly so much she thought I'd hit her. She thought I could hit her. And what kind of person am I that my best friend is scared I'm gonna hit her? What kind of person am I that she would think I could do that?
But I'm Sam Puckett.
Of course I'd do that. I punch people all the time. Even people I like. And I get into fights and pick locks and I'm unreliable and violent and rude. But I thought Carly knew me better. I thought she thought of me differently than anyone else did – because I would never ever hit her, no matter how angry I got.
Carly's taking my hand again, but she won't look at me, instead just fussing over the reddening bandage and rousing Spencer to get a nurse. And she's asking me if it hurts and it does, soooo fucking much, but it's not in my hand…
…it's in my chest.
Mikayla
- 27.08.2021
- 36
- 0
Thistle street middlesbrough escort
- 2 years ago
- 36
- 0
How Are You Not Being Neglected Chapter 9 The total four chapters
- 4 years ago
- 84
- 0
