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“I’m Martin,” the voice said. His Bronx accent was strong, and I couldn’t dare to turn to face him. Not when I feared it could be their faces I would see—Tattoo’s or Nightmare’s.
“I’m here to help, Davina.” The sound of my name on his lips was the reason I rolled my head to meet his gaze. He looked tired. Dark circles adorned his dark green eyes as they swirled with fright. His features were strong, pronounced, but even his messy light brown hair didn’t match his clean and expensive clothing. Yet, he looked sincere, but nothing was ever as it seemed, not anymore. “Are you in pain?”
Yes.
I didn’t reply, and he exhaled. “Here, drink some water.” He stood and walked my way with a water bottle in his hand. Martin pushed the button for my bed to rise before unscrewing the cap and placing the chilled top to my lips. I sipped and sipped some more while keeping my eyes on him.
Pulling back slightly, I asked, “Why?” It was rough, raw, and it quivered inside the room. One word, but it asked so many questions, and he would choose which to answer.
“I don’t know.” He frowned when his sight caught the bandage over my neck. Martin sat back on the vinyl chair while his hand ran furiously over his face and up his hair. “I like to think I would always be the person who helped someone, just never thought to this extent. I just did.” His eyes fell to the ground. “I thought you were dead. You were so cold, so pale, and there was so much blood. Too much. You should’ve been dead, nobody carries that much blood, so I knew it had to be someone else’s too.”
I froze.
“What do you remember?” His eyes questioned me.
The lie flew through my lips just as easily as it would’ve been the truth. “I don’t.”
“Good, you can lie,” he replied with a ghost smile, but it quickly faded. “When the ambulance arrived, I scrambled for a reason to ride with you in the ambulance. Said the first thing that came to mind. I just couldn’t leave you alone, not until I knew someone would be here with you. But no one ever showed, and something tells me no one will. I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.”
“But?” I asked the silent word that hung from his words.
“But I believe you are still in danger, and now I’m in it with you.”
“What makes you say that?” I rasped, hoping he couldn’t hear the alarm in my voice.
“Because why would you have around-the-clock police officers? Either they believe you saw something they need, or someone is watching you.”
Bile rose and I covered my mouth in hope it would subside.
Martin only wanted to help, but now I was no longer the only one in danger. I had to figure a way to keep him safe, just as he saved me.
“Do you know how long they will keep me here?” I asked.
“I’m a pre-med student, so I understood the doctor when he said they will keep you until they are sure you don’t have side effects from the blood plasma transfusion, especially since you went into hypovolemic shock. You were lucky to not have any organ damage due to the massive blood loss.” My brows furrowed but he continued, “But don’t worry, they gave you medications to increase your heart strength and blood circulation, as well as antibiotics to prevent any infections.”
I nodded, trying to wrap my head around everything he’d said. I’d fallen asleep before I had the chance to speak to the doctor, so Martin was my chance to assess my injuries. “What about the wound?”
“It’s been two days, and it’s healing with no issues. Maybe after five to six days they’ll take the stitching out.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“You can’t leave, you are too weak. I’d be surprised if you can even walk straight or have the strength to make it out the door.”
“Then I better start gaining it. Will you help me?”
“Of course, but why the rush? You will heal with time.”
“Time is a luxury I don’t have.”
I’d asked Martin if I had any belongings with me, he said my purse and phone. I felt relieved knowing I had money. It wasn’t much, but enough to buy a bus ticket and leave the city. I checked my phone, it was dead. Martin left in search of a charger after he instructed some exercises for my arms and legs for me to regain some coordination and strength.
Martin was hesitant to leave, and by his worn appearance, I didn’t think he ever would. I ushered him to go and rest. He left some time during the night with the promise of coming back early in the morning.
And while I lay in the cold room alone, I read the cryptic text message from an unknown number wishing I hadn’t let him go.
I can help.
It’d been two days since I saw that message. And three more had made it to my inbox.
