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“It’s fine,” Andrei groaned as his head slightly tipped sideways.
“Stay with me, Andrei,” I said, recognizing the highway he took yesterday to get to the cabin.
“Stay with me...”
After what felt like the longest drive of my life, we finally arrived at the cabin. He leaned against my shoulder as we made our way from the road and through the forest. Once inside, I managed to get him to lie down on the bed. The movement looked like it pained him. Every movement did.
“I need hot water from the kitchen,” he moaned in pain. I fetched a bowl of hot water and rushed back into the bedroom, spilling some over my hands all the way back.
“In the drawer, there is a needle and some medical thread in a small medical pouch.”
“Under the books?” I asked. He threw me an angry look.
“Yes, under the books.”
I pulled out the needle and thread and then just stared at him. Blank.
“What... what now?”
He tore open his blood-drenched shirt, little buttons flying off everywhere. Just as I thought, he had tattoos on his entire chest all the way to his neck, and some parts of that too. Skulls, numbers, the Russian star, and the largest of all, a beautiful Madonna looking sadly onto a skull she was holding.
Andrei reached for a bottle of whiskey next to the bed and dumped it onto the wound on his chest. His face twisted in pain.
“Shit,” he cussed. Then he dumped some more right over my hand that was holding the needle with thread.
I sat down on the bed and took a closer look at the wound. It was on the left side of his chest, an inch below his collar bone. It looked like a through and through.
He folded the belt from his trousers and put it in his mouth. “Quick. You have to close the one in the back,” he huffed, biting down hard on the belt as he rolled onto his side. For a moment, I just stared at him in shock. I had seen this very scene in movies a million times before, but actually doing it was a totally different thing.
There was blood everywhere. He had lost a fair amount of it.
“Fuck...” I mumbled, worried I might faint.
“Elise,” he growled. “Now.”
I snapped out of my state of shock and leaned over.
“This will hurt,” I said, right before squeezing the flesh together so I could push the needle through, stitching it. He threw his head back but didn’t scream at all.
So, I continued, stitch by stitch, about two inches, until the wound was completely sealed. Then I tied off the thread to make a knot and dumped some more whiskey over it.
“Fuck,” Andrei exhaled and flipped onto his back. His shaking hand reached for the needle and leftover thread in my hand.
“I can do the front.”
“With the way you’re shaking?” I protested in a scolding tone. “I got it.”
I took in a deep breath and stitched up the wound under his collar bone as well.
After I bit off the thread, Andrei stared at me with his deep blue eyes, then relaxed for the first time.
“In the kitchen,” Andrei huffed, exhausted, “there are antibiotics on top of the fridge. Get them.”
“Of course.”
I was almost out of the room when he called for me.
“Elise,” he said in a soft voice. I turned to face him.
