The Shed
526 Words
I walked with bold confidence up into the tool shed. I remember I dressed in black jeggings, midcalf black boots, a black tee, and dressier red and a black flannel shirt that was one of my favorites! The reason I remember it so vividly is because the following day I was upset that the flannel shirt got blood-stained and my boots got caked with mud.
As I entered the tool shed, I slipped on a patch of mud. I am sure a normal person might have slipped backward but not me, I somehow slipped forward and landed face-first into Samuels rock-hard chest. I remember hearing the impact c***k and feeling the warmth of blood begin to gush down my nose. I also remember the ashen look of horror on Samuel’s face as my nose began to swell and the blood began to pour out of my nose.
“You f*****g stupid girl. What is wrong with you.” He screamed.
“What’s wrong with me?” I screamed back “What the f**k is wrong with you? What kind of Amish person uses the word f**k and reacts like that? Seriously what the f**k did I ever do to you, you prick of an Amish man?”
All while taking my flannel off to use a towel to stop the bleeding and swelling of my nose and completely irritated and irate!
“God woman! I avoid you like the plague and here you are slamming yourself into me. Can’t you take a hint?” He said, throwing his gloves on the ground and stomping out of the shed leaving me in the middle of the shed angry and baffled.
At that moment, tears of anger welled up inside of me. Ugh! I f*****g hate this!
I am a badass and never on a construction site have I ever let the workers see me cry. I will certainly not let those times and certainly not because some jack-ass Amish muscular god made me feel like s**t.
I take a deep breath, gather all my strength, despite my nose hurt like hell, and walk out of the tool shed.
“Doug. You are not going to believe this?” I said, looking right across Doug’s shoulder and I glared into Samuel’s eyes as he ran the power saw. “It was the dumbed thing, I wasn’t looking and ran right into a beam,” I said shaking my head. “I know. I know. You are always telling me to be more careful. I am sorry.”
Doug looked at me with fatherly concern in his eyes, “Amarys, are you sure you are ok? It looks nasty!”
“I am fine. Don't get me wrong it hurts like hell. But I am tough. I should probably head home, get cleaned up, and put some ice on it.” I said
“Ok,” Doug said kindly as he patted my arm.
I made my way to my black Volkswagen Tiguan. As I slide into the driver's seat, a let out a scream of frustration.
- Writer
