Page 32 of The Sins That Bleed
She’s got webs of businesses all over this city.
We ruminate over possibilities and theories on the drive back to our apartment block, but nothing sticks. We say goodnight and I continue up in the elevator to my floor.
I unlock my apartment and do my usual sweep—everything neat and tidy. I head straight for the sink, pulling a glass down from the cabinet overhead and filling it with water, downing the cold liquid as if I’ve been stuck in a desert.
My mouth feels dry from the taste of stale coffee coating my tongue and the aftertaste of Thai food. I bring a fresh glass to have on my bedside table with me, placing it down and heading straight into the bathroom to clean my teeth.
I immediately feel better once they’re clean. I contemplate taking a shower but I’d already had one this morning aftermy workout. I wipe the worktop down with the hand towel, removing any drops of water that splashed down. I shut the cabinet housing my toothbrush, the mirror reflecting the room as it rushes by from the movement.
There’s someone behind me.
I’m not alone in my apartment.
I whirl, ready to take them down, but I don’t need to. They slide down the shower wall and a dark red streak trails in their wake. My mind registers that this is no stranger.
Valeska is in my shower.
She’sbleeding.
I’m on my knees in front of her before I even make the decision to move, reaching for her slumped body against the wall. I gently lift her chin to get a better look at her face, brushing the loose strands of her braids out of the way.
She looks up at me with unfocused eyes. “I ha-had nowhere else to go.”
Her whispered confession clears my mind of any other thoughts except helping her. She should be in a hospital, not sitting bleeding in my shower. I sit back on my heels as I try to assess where she’s been hurt. It’s hard to see with the black material covering her skin but my eyes snag on a tear in the fabric.
There is a large slice over her left breast. My eyes flick to the blood on the wall and alarm bells go off so I tip her forward gently to confirm my fear. She’s been stabbed clean through the chest; I have no idea how she even got here with this injury, let alone how she’s still breathing.
Why did she come here, to me?
“I need to get you to the hospital, Valeska, you need medical attention. Fuck.” I go to get my phone out of my pocket but her cold hand stops my movement, sharp nails digging into my flesh.
“No hospitals, Rai.Please.”
The agonising way she says please stops me from calling the emergency services. I grip her cold hand in mine.
“Okay, no hospitals, I promise. Tell me what to do, how do I help you?”
I’ll do anything she asks; I can’t let her die. We have a deal and whatever hex she has placed on me is screaming at me to not lose her. There’s still so much about her I need to discover, to prove that she is the villain I’m painting her out to be.
“Towels, warm water.” Her head rolls and I steady it with my hands, not wanting her to pass out. “My bag, window. Has things.”
I try not to dwell on her staccato speech; if I let myself think about what it might mean I will go back on my promise to not get her to the nearest hospital. I reluctantly leave her as I move through my apartment like a tornado, collecting everything she mentioned. I find her bag by the window and grab it on my way back to her.
I place everything on the floor before filling a bowl with warm water and scrubbing my hands clean. I kneel before her and see that she’s removed her top to give me access to her wound. It’s so much worse now that I can see it—a large thin object had been rammed through her chest leaving jagged edges.
And the blood, there’s so much blood.
The dark, sticky liquid is pouring down her chest, bubbling out of her with each breath she takes. I dip a towel into the warm water and begin cleaning the wound. I expect her to flinch but she only tips her head back against the tiles, staring at the ceiling.
“How did this happen, mon cauchemar? Who did this to you?” I softly whisper, since I know shouting or demanding anything from her right now won’t make this situation any better.
It’s at this moment that I realise how vulnerable she is, that she felt as though she could only come to me with something like this. I don’t push her to respond, just focus on the task at hand.
“Long…story.” The words take effort to slip past her lips. “Needs stitching, in my bag.”
I let it go for now and drop the towel, rummaging through her bag until I find a medical kit. I rip it open and find a sewing kit that will stitch her jagged flesh back together.
I place it next to me. “Do you want some alcohol to numb you before I do this?” I know I’d want something to take the edge off.
