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“It’s a long story, but yes, I’ve had many years of training.”
I turned back to allow him to continue. There was clearly a lot going on that I didn’t understand. If the darklings were real, why couldn’t he know how to stitch up a person? Clearly, he’d been involved in enough situations where that would be a useful skill.
He got to work, his silence a painful cloud that loomed over us, and I was eager to hear him talk. I finally spoke, just to break the quiet. “What’s wrong?”
“You… You scared me,” he said, his words so soft, so painful.
I sat silent for a moment. If the dreams were truly real, then I didn’t blame him for worrying. “So, it was all real?”
He hesitated. “Yeah.”
I felt him moving around behind me and heard clinks as he dropped shards of glass into the metal dish. “Whatever you used, it’s working. I can’t feel a thing.”
A soft, short laugh left his throat, and he set the tweezers down on the tray, exchanging them for the needle and thread. “Thankfully, it doesn’t look like there was much glass. I got it all out, so I’m starting on the stitches now.”
I tensed a bit, bracing involuntarily for the pain, but the anesthesia was working. I only felt an odd tugging sensation on the back of my head as he ran the needle and thread, stitching the wound closed.
“I’m sorry for leaving you in the dark this whole time. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
I didn’t respond at first. I knew he must have done it for my safety, which made accepting the hidden truths all the more difficult. “I’m sure it was for my own good.”
“I—” He struggled with the words. “I’d intended that originally. I didn’t want to shatter the safe reality that you knew as a human, to not know the truth of the terrible creatures that linger in the shadows.”
I took a deep breath, my mind pooling with thoughts of the darklings, the creatures that would’ve likely torn me limb from limb if Damien hadn’t saved me. I shivered, imagining what an agonizing end it would’ve been.
Damien’s voice pulled me from the horrors that I was beginning to imagine. “One more and you’ll be good. You won’t have any trouble hiding these with your hair. They’ll either dissolve or fall out on their own in a week or two.”
“Thank you.” I paused. “For everything, Damien, really. I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for you.”
“I promised I’d always be there for you,” he said. “And I always will.”
I sat for a moment, allowing him to focus on what he was doing. It was terrifying to think that those things lurked in the dark at night. Though it was difficult to believe it, I couldn’t deny their existence, having seen them with my own eyes.
The sound of metal dropping on to the tray ended my train of thought and Damien shifted to stand. “Ok, you’re all patched up now.” He walked over to the sink, tossing his gloves in the trash and washed his hands. “Are you thirsty?”
“Yeah, I could definitely use a drink right now.” I gave into temptation, reaching back to feel the two stitches. It was such a small wound, way smaller than I’d anticipated given the pain. It was a relief that it would be easy to hide. I didn’t know how I would explain it to my parents if they saw.
Damien opened the mini fridge built into the cabinets, fishing out a bottled water for me and returning to my bedside. He extended his hand out and I reached for the much-needed hydration. My mouth was parched, throat bone dry, and I couldn't get the bottle cap off fast enough. I chugged the water, feeling the coolness roll down my throat and groaned in relief.
I turned to him, putting the lid back on the bottle and setting it aside. “Alright, shirt off.”
He blinked at me, as if I’d just asked him to strip naked. My cheeks heated and I fumbled to correct the misunderstanding. “N–No that’s not what I… Damien, come on. I don’t want to leave that wound untreated.” I fumbled my words, motioning to his shoulder, where the dried blood stain showed.
A crooked grin broke across his face. He sighed, but obliged, sliding his shirt over his head. I swallowed, trying not to stare at the smooth muscles of his body as they flexed and stretched.
I grabbed a clean rag from the pile of things Damien had brought, walking over to wash my hands and soak it with warm water. I returned, settling down beside him, looking over his injury. It was clean of any debris, only covered in dried blood.
I dabbed the rag carefully, trying to be gentle as I cleaned the wound. “Does that hurt?”
“Keep doing what you’re doing. I’m fine.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Is something funny?”
“It’s just cute hearing you dote on me.” His voice was low. “This isn’t anything serious for me, but I kind of like you tending to my wounds.”
I bit my lip, trying to focus on what I was doing, but my heart raced. “Stop talking. I’m trying to focus.”
He laughed under his breath but didn’t say more.
