Chapter 3 #2
Blair walks over to join me in the bathroom. I pretend not to notice her stumble and the way she reaches out to hold the wall as she approaches.
I’ll take care of her.
I’ll fix this.
“You don’t have to do this, Rhett. I was just trying to muster up the courage to deal with it myself,” she admits as she sits down on the toilet lid. Once seated, she attempts to pull her shirt over her head but stops to hiss in pain.
“Damn it, Blair. Let me help you,” I snap.
Together we work the shirt off her. When we’re done, Blair turns her attention to the first aid kit. Immediately, she begins pulling things out.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m a nurse, remember? I’m just getting out the stuff you’ll need.”
Oh. Right…
Blair pulls out gloves, tweezers, gauze, antiseptic wipes, and bandages. The needle and thread are the last items she grabs.
When she’s done, Blair sits back and looks up at me. “When were you shot?”
Quickly, I wash my hands with soap and water, then drag on the new pair of latex gloves.
When I look up at her, Blair is watching me intently.
I try not to let her state of undress, or the old scars on her stomach that look a lot like the single one on my leg, distract me as I prepare to tend to her wound.
What I can’t ignore is the heavy sag of her shoulders or the dullness in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. I don’t like it. It’s like when Santi goes unusually quiet—it’s how you know something is seriously fucking wrong.
“When I escaped prison,” I tell her matter-of-factly, hoping to distract her. “They got me in the meaty part of my upper thigh.”
Her eyes narrow just a little as she asks, “How’d you escape prison?”
“Are you mocking me right now?”
“I would never mock you, Rhett.”
I glare at her. “Yes, you would and you’re doing it now. It’s the way you’re saying it.”
“I’m not!”
“Here I am, about to patch you up, and you’re sitting there mocking—”
“Rhett!” Blair giggles. “I swear I’m not. I really believe you did it, just tell me how!”
I can’t help but smile. Blair smiles back.
“It’s not all that exciting,” I warn as I indicate for Blair to let me see her arm.
She lifts it gingerly for me. “I was being transported on a bus and managed to get out of my cuffs. I caused a scene and a riot broke out. The cops on the bus couldn’t control us.
The driver got hurt and veered off the road, and after the vehicle tipped, I slipped away from the chaos.
As I did, a cop noticed and shot at me. It wasn’t enough to slow me down and she was immediately overpowered by one of the inmates. ”
Looking back, I feel bad leaving her to fend for herself with such a rough crew.
But I had to get out of there.
“I don’t remember seeing a scar when I—” Blair cuts herself off.
She doesn’t need to finish that sentence. We both know what she’s talking about.
“Yeah, I think shock helped me have a steady hand when I was stitching myself up so there’s minimal scarring,” I admit. “It also helps that I have hairy legs. That helps cover the scar too.”
Blair snorts her amusement, but the sound is weak.
It's only when I take her arm that I notice the slight tremor in it. When I glance up at her face, the dark circles under her eyes are emphasized by the tension bracketing her mouth and creasing around the edges of her eyes. God, she’s probably in agony.
Yet, she didn’t complain once the entire ride.
Not even when we had to steal another car.
Fuck, when I’d been shot, I’d been a swearing, weeping asshole.
“The second time I got shot was a little over four years ago. It was just a graze across my hip, so I didn’t have to pull the bullet out.
But that wasn’t the authorities,” I continue as I start to wash the blood off her arm.
“This guy was sitting in his window and saw me on the roof of the building beside his. I guess he thought I was a threat and shot at me. I don’t blame him.
Covered in dried blood from my last kill, dirty, and half-starved—I probably looked sketchy.
I was lucky he didn’t have better aim. Ledger witnessed the whole thing from wherever he’d been hanging out and came to investigate. ”
I pretend to ignore the way Blair stiffens at Ledger’s name. That’s a fresh wound the two of us have yet to come to terms with. I think we’re both ignoring the horrific yet inevitable truth for as long as we can. The person we both trusted with our lives has put us at risk on purpose.
Who the fuck does that?
“Wait, that’s how you two met?” she asks after a moment. “On a rooftop?”
I nod.
“So, he just… saved you then brought you to Gnarly Pines?”
Again, I nod as I focus on her wound.
“That seems…” Her words trail off as she considers something.
“You don’t think that’s out of character for him?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he saved you, but Ledger isn’t known for going out of his way for people he doesn’t know.
” She pauses again. “Hm… were you and him a thing? Like you and Santi—”
“No, absolutely not.” I scoff at the very idea. Frowning, I think about what else she’s said. “You know, though, you’re right. Now that I think about it, that does seem weird for him.”
Blair sucks in a deep breath and then slowly lets it out.
“And this was about four years ago?” She asks. At my nod, she mutters, “Where did all of this take place?”
“Ah, just outside of Colorado Springs.”
Blair looks away from me as her brows furrow. “Strange… I was in that area too at that time.”
We’re both quiet for a moment as I work. Once the skin around the bullet hole is clean, I use the antiseptic to disinfect it.
“So, yeah, I’ve done this before. You’re in good hands,” I promise, and attempt to give her a smile.
It must be weak because Blair doesn’t smile back. She stares at me, her expression soft but unreadable.
“Alright, I’m going in. Remember to breathe, okay?” I tell her as I pick up the tweezers.
Blair nods and takes a deep breath. I clear my throat as my stomach rolls in protest. Reaching forward, I dip the tweezers into the bloody hole in Blair’s arm.
For all the killing that I’ve done, it doesn’t prepare me to handle this.
Every life I’ve taken, I made sure it hurt.
But with Blair, I wish more than anything I could do something to take away the pain.
Between her soft gasp and the sweat breaking out on her skin, I know I’m putting her through agony. Blair doesn’t say a word, though. She doesn’t cry out or try to pull away. She simply allows me to work.