Page 45 of Leave Me Behind
Eren’s jaw flexes as he stops at a door and opens it for me. I step inside and take in the small room. There are two plain beds and two nightstands. It’s the emptiest room I’ve ever seen, no sentiments or photos. No lingering care items from the mornings or nights.
“Patagonia was our last mission before we were to earn our cards.” He lifts a shoulder and drops it. The cards of freedom. My eyes widen. Malum was on their last mission before their cards? The only underground squad that has earned their cards was Warsaw, and that was ten years ago. Most squads die out before they earn their freedom back.
They were going to be free. Riøt still had six missions to complete before we earned ours.
I set my bag on the bed he points at and let my aching body lower to the mattress. Basic sheets feel so precious after sleeping in bushes for a few weeks.
“Losing Abrahm cost you your cards?”
He sits on the other bed and stares out the sole window. “Everything went to shit after that. Bones was mentally shot and the squad was everywhere. We failed miserably and the general was furious with us.” He stares at me with knowing eyes.
“We obviously failed too.” My voice is low.
“This next mission is more than earning our cards, Nell. It’s revenge. For Bones, especially. I can’t get into the details, but we both know it ties in with Patagonia.”
I wince at those words; our goals aren’t so different.
“He has a debt to pay,” I say sadly.
Eren’s eyes flash at me. “You have one too.”
I lower my eyes to my hands. They don’t look covered in blood, but they are. I’m drowning in the deaths of my first squad. In the death of Jenkins. If I had stayed, he’d still be here. Or we’d both be dead, and that’s fine too.Why didn’t I stay?My eyes slowly shut.
The firm line of my lips is the only answer I can provide him. He doesn’t press me further. He knows what I’ve done. The monster that lurks beneath my betraying features.
I lie back in the bed and let out a long breath. The ceiling is tiled here. Just as bland and soulless as the rest of the military base.
“So when do we start the next training?” I ask, as I absentmindedly brush the tip of my finger across the cut on my ribs. I’ll think of Bradshaw’s lustful gaze every time I see the mark, each time I feel it.
Eren notices me messing with my wound and stands, fumbling in his nightstand before approaching me with some clear liquid and supplies.
I sit at the edge. “I already rebandaged, Sergeant.”
He gives me a stern look and I cave, lifting my shirt over my head and tossing it to the side of my bed. My sports bra meets the end of the bandage, so I scoot it up enough for him to easily change the wrapping.
“The next mock mission starts two days from now at zero eight hundred. You’ll leave earlier with the hostile squad to get a head start toward your base. Same as before—few weeks of training and then we’ll try taking the hostages back,” Eren mutters as he gently unwraps the binding around my chest. He slows as he gets to the fleshy, blood-soaked layer. His eyes widen and his jaw clenches.
“Nell, we both know that this needs stitches.” His brows furrow. He looks a lot more like Bradshaw when he’s like this.
I lift a shoulder. “You made it clear that you didn’t want anyone to find out. It’s healing, so don’t worry about it,” I say indifferently, and torment fills his gaze. There are a million things on his mind; it’s evident in the tired slump of his shoulders. “You don’t need to feel bad. It wasn’t you who carved me open and exposed my breasts to the other squadmates.”
His hands freeze and for a moment I think I’ll watch his mental state shatter with what his brother has done. But he pulls himself together the way he’s been trained to as he dabsointment on my flayed flesh. I know he’s seen much worse in the field. His touch is soft and caring; if I shut my eyes I’ll be consumed by the comfort of it.
“Don’t let him hurt you like this again,” he finally says after a long while of silence.Too late,I muse. He finishes the procedure using suture tape, which might actually work, and wraps my ribs better than I had. Delicate, but secure.
I let my eyes fall to his calloused hands, wondering how many men he’s killed with them. I find solace in his presence. A kind soul that’s dragging himself through hell. But Eren did something bad to earn his place in the dark forces too. I wonder if he’d tell me what it was.
“What if he does hurt me again?” I tease with a probing voice, knowing that our vicious dance is far from over. I’ve never seen death and hatred linger around a man’s shoulders like it does with Bradshaw. Even with his imperfections and his violence, the reaper in me wants to break him as much as he’s sought to destroy me.
Eren fists his hands at each side of me before looking up to meet my cold gaze. “He won’t disobey my orders again.” His voice cuts out as he lifts his left hand to coast his fingertips across my ribs. “It’s my fault Abrahm died. My fault that Bradshaw is so fucked up.” A single tear rolls down his expressionless face. I wonder if he even knows it slipped. The hard planes of his expression don’t allude any emotions.
Eren is scary too, maybe more so than his brother. His ability to put on a facade is chilling.
Our conversation ends with an awkward lull in the room. The energy has gone cold and stale. Eren heads to his bed silently, his thoughts clearly weighing on his mind.
I like the way broken men grieve.
It gives me pause and makes me curious about the harrowing things he still has locked up so tight.
