Page 21 of Bound

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I'll be right back, just try not to move.” Disappearing into the night, I could faintly see his shadow as he ducked back into the car through a broken window.

Laying on my back, I stared up at the sky, trying to do what he said, and breath in slowly. It was hard to do. I wanted to drink down the air, I wanted to feel it feed me its life blood so I could stop the heavy weight that sat on my chest. It felt like I was drowning even though I was above water.

His feet scraped over the grass as he came back to my side, holding a small white box.

“What's that?”

“A first aid kit.” Dropping back to his knees, I heard him open the box and rifle around inside. “Let me know if I hurt you, but you have a pretty bad gash on your forehead, and I need to do something about it.”

Who the fuck is this guy?

I wasn't sure what to think. He had literally killed a man, taken me by force, and I had expected that he was either going to kill me too, or just leave me for dead. Yet, here he was, holding a damn first aid kit, about to dress my wounds like a fucking paramedic.

“This is going to sting,” he said, pouring a clear liquid onto a white gauze pad. Dabbing it across my forehead, my skin began to tingle. “You alright?”

“It's not too bad, my chest hurts more. And I'm fucking tired, I feel like I could pass out right here.”

“No,” he snapped, his eyes opening wide. “You can't sleep, not yet. You probably have a concussion, you hit your head pretty hard.”

Eyeing him, I asked,” How do you know all this? Did you work in a hospital or something?”

“Something like that.” Dropping his eyes back to the box, he pulled out some thin clear strips. “Hold still.” His fingers gripped my skin and pinched the cut closed. Applying four of the strips, he sat back on his heels. “Okay, that should stop the bleeding.”

Touching the cut with the pads of my fingers, I stared at him intently. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” Closing up the kit, he pushed it to the side, and let his eyes connect with mine.

“All of this. You pulled me out of the car, you're taking care of my injuries. Why? Why do this? Why not just leave me here and take off? You could have left me to die, why didn't you?”

Licking his lips, he cupped his knees, allowing his eyes to flirt with the ground. “Maybe you're not meant to die here like this.”

“I don't understand.”

Clenching his jaw, he darted his eyes away and looked up at the sky. He didn't give me an explanation to what he had said, leaving me to wonder where his bad side ended, and his good side began.

How could he decide between one life and another? Why was I worthy of living after almost killing us both, but not that other man?

“Come on, lets try to stand you up.” Slipping a hand under my shoulders, he took my hand with his other one, and guided me up. “Go easy, not too fast.”

“What about my ribs? Can we wrap them or something?”

“No, you don't want to do that. It won't really help, it might actually make it worse.”

I watched him curiously as his face softened and his features changed. My brain was trying to remind me of what he had done, it was screaming at me not to trust him, and to try and get away.

Except, right then, I didn't see the dark man of the night. I saw a man who meant well, who wanted to help instead of hurt. It didn't make sense. It was as if he was two different people, an angel and a demon living in one body.

Was that possible? Was there a way for someone to be both?

How can you take a life and then save one? Who was he, and what the hell was his purpose on this earth?

I have to decide for myself what this man is, if he's good or bad, if he means well or wants to do harm.

In my heart, I believed he didn't really want to hurt me, regardless of what he had done. In my heart, I trusted him. There was no way for me to explain why or how I could feel such things. It was crazy, it was beyond fucking stupid for me to see any good in him, and yet I did.

What is wrong with me?

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