VIII
Hazel Winters
M y eyes droop as I chop up the fruit for tonight’s opening. I barely got any sleep after my weird encounter with Atlas yesterday. Most of the night was spent tossing and turning, trying to figure out why he was so pissed off about me talking to customers.
I toss the chopped lemons into the different boxes placed across the bar before returning back to my station to start the limes.
My thoughts drift from me and I start to make a shopping list in my head. I need to majorly restock on some of the basics. I go through the rooms in my apartment in my mind, making a mental note of every household and personal product I need, until a pain radiates through my finger.
I inhale through my teeth as I look down to see I’ve nicked myself with the knife. Blood starts pouring through the cut on my index finger and I freeze in panic. One of the bar staff passes me a napkin and I use it to try to stop the blood as I head back into the locker room.
Struggling with only one hand, I manage to fish my phone out of my locker and look for the number for a taxi.
Wait, I need to tell my bosses that I’m leaving.
Closing the app, I open my messages chain with them and start to type out my excuse.
Me: Hey, I know we open in an hour, but I need to leave.
Android: What’s up, Angel?
Theodorito: Who’s hurt you?
Me: I’m fine. I just cut myself cutting the fruit for the bar and need to go get a few stitches.
Plane Enthusiast: We can do stitches for you, Spitfire.
Me: No, I really need to go to the hospital for this.
Me: I’ll try to get someone to cover my shift.
I put my phone down and try to put on my coat, but the napkin has already been bled through, so I divert my attention to finding another one. The bleeding speeds up until I have been through three tissues and my head starts to feel light.
My phone buzzes again and I sit down on one of the benches in the middle of the room as I check the notification.
Mr Worldwide: We’re coming down. Stay where you are.
I roll my eyes, but dizziness makes my vision blur. I wrap another few tissues over my finger to try to hide how much I’m bleeding but they become blood red within a few moments.
The door to the locker room slams open and I jump, looking up to see my four bosses standing there with concerned looks on their faces. Dawson’s eyes zero in on my hand and he comes to kneel in front of me.
“Let me see.”
I hold my hand, and he takes it by the wrist, carefully unwrapping the tissues from the open wound. It’s only about five centimetres long but my whole finger is stained with the blood that keeps seeping out.
“I can stitch this,” he looks into my eyes, smiling softly.
“No,” I swallow, my mouth feeling dry as my vision blurs again, “I need to go to hospital.”
“It’s just a small cut, Hazel,” Atlas sighs and I close my eyes, wishing I wasn’t in this situation right now.
“Are you squeamish or something?” Andros asks, his tone soft but slightly amused.
God, I wish I didn’t have to confess this.
“I have… haemophilia,” I mumble, hoping no one hears it.
“The blood clotting disorder?” Dawson asks, evidently having heard what I said. I nod my head, keeping my eyes closed in the useless attempt to not faint.
“Fuck,” Theo mutters.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell us this before?” Atlas growls in frustration.
“Didn’t think it would be necessary,” I whisper, my body starting to sway as the blood loss catches up to me. I tilt to the side, but strong arms catch me before I hit my head. I try to pry my eyes open but only manage to make them small slits, too heavy to fully open.
“Andros, go call the doctor and Theo, go get the car,” Atlas instructs as I’m lifted up into Dawson’s arms. He holds me close to his body, the warmth from him making it even harder to keep my eyes open.
My eyes close again and I become too exhausted to try to fight to keep them open. Instead, I listen to the sound of their authoritative voices as I’m carried out to the car. Dawson tries to keep me awake as he climbs into the backseat, with me still on his lap, but sleep finally claims me and the world goes truly black.
My eyelids feel heavy as I slowly pry them open. A heavy duvet covers my body, softer than anything I could ever own. I tune into a regular beeping noise and look over to see blood being transferred into my body through a tube from a hanging bag.
Lifting my hand, I notice the cannula attached to it. My other hand has a bandage wrapped around the finger, covering the one cut from earlier. Drifting my gaze up, I freeze when I see three of my bosses glaring at me from the foot of the bed.
“Why didn’t you tell us you had haemophilia, Hazel?” Dawson grits out, his arms folded over his muscular body.
"Hello to you too," I croak out, my mouth suddenly very dry.
"Answer the question," Theo sneers.
"I didn't think it was relevant," I shrug my shoulders. I bite my lip anxiously, nervous that the comment only seemed to make them angrier.
"You didn't think it was relevant to tell your bosses that you have a serious blood clotting disorder?" Atlas asks as he strolls into the room. My eyes narrow at the irritation in his voice as he glares at me.
"Well, see, it's kinda really inconvenient so I just pretend I don't have it," I begin to ramble, "I mean, I know denial is a river in Egypt, but life is more fun acting like a small cut like this doesn't have the potential to kill me."
Wow, I don't know where that came from.
My gaze meets the four men's eyes, and I notice amusement lighten their darkened eyes slightly. I shift uncomfortably in the bed, heavily aware that I am only vulnerable right now and can’t escape.
This seems to unlock them from their power stances and Theo sits at the end of the bed, whilst Andros and Dawson sit on the sofa in the corner of the room. Atlas leans against the wall opposite me with his ever-present glare focused on me.
I avoid his eyes and follow the tube from my cannula up to an IV bag of blood that is being transfused into me. I close my eyes as nausea hits me. A haemophiliac that hates the sight of blood.
Ironic, no?
Andros looks gently into my eyes and opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by a doctor and nurse coming in to check on me. They usher my bosses out and I sit back in bed with my eyes closed, silently glad that I have a small break from their intense gaze.
Once the doctor has caught me up on what happened, he tells me I can go home when the blood is finished transfusing.
As soon as the doctor and nurse leave, my bosses come flooding in, and my heart skips a beat when I see them all with their hands full of snacks.
A small smile escapes my lips.
They load the snacks on the bed and take up their previous positions.
“Um… where am I?” I ask them awkwardly.
“Our house.”