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“How is she?”
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” the doctor mutters and I retract my hand and begin pacing. Pulling my fingers through my hair, I struggle to keep my emotions under control. Picking up Skyla’s sweater I bury my face in it and my eyes shudder.
It smells of her, of sugarcoated pears and sorrow bursts in me.
I put the sweater down, walk into the gym and grab my boxing gloves. The frustration needs to go somewhere and I take it out on the punching bag. I punch and punch, demolishing that thing until there’s nothing left to punch anymore and I let out the sound of a wounded animal.
Falling to my knees, I put my head in my hands.
There are so many bad things I’ve done, so many times when I was selfish and Skyla’s nothing like me. She’s pure selflessness. Pure purity, period. What fate was thinking for making her cross paths with me, I’ll never know.
The way her life’s turned out angers me. She’s the kind of girl that should be floating on a pink cloud all day, while feeding glitter to unicorns but instead she was thrown to the streets.
And when she tried finding a little slice of comfort she gets entangled with the mob. With me.
For fucks sake the kid witnessed a murder right before getting shot and it makes me have a problem with the work we do. I’ve never had that problem before. Never thought of it as right or wrong. It was just the way it was but now...hell, I think she’s making me develop a conscience.
I wouldn’t expect anything less from Skyla.
She’s changing me. The moment I laid eyes on her something shifted. What previously seemed important turned pointless, pulling back to give room for her and fuck has she claimed that room. She’s taking up so much space there’s nothing left even for me. Rubbing my neck, I rise and throw a glance at the clock.
Its hours past midnight. A new dawn will be here soon and it better be a good one. Walking back into my bedroom, I grunt, “How’s it going?”
The doctor shakes his head. “I’m soon done but I don’t know...”
“Don’t know what?” I growl and I already feel so much rage and aggression I could take on every single army in the world in this state. The doctor looks up from Skyla’s lifeless body.
“Like I previously informed you. The woman’s lost a lot of blood. I won’t be able to save her here. She needs a transfusion.”
A transfusion?
Fuck!
“You will use me,” I say and when he hesitates, I snap, “Use me!”
Pushing his little glasses up his nose, he replies, “That’s not how it works. I can’t just use a random volunteer. You must match in order for the transfusion to be successful.”
We match. Fuck do we match. And if Skyla’s going to be having anyone’s blood in her little body it’s going to be mine. Reaching out, I wrap my hand around the doctor’s throat and squeeze.
“I’m a universal donor,” I growl. “Now fucking use me.”
His beady eyes widen behind his glasses and he shakes his head. “Even if you offer, I wouldn’t recommend it. The amount she needs will deplete you. Despite your size there’s a high chance you’ll be weakened.”
Weakened? As if I’m worried about that since she gave her life for me. This exchange only seems fair. Even if it would kill me, I’d still offer.
“Do as you’re told before I fucking make you regret ever contradicting me,” I snarl, removing my hand and I throw up my arm. Dragging a deep breath, I realize just how much I both need and want to do this.
I need her to get better but I want to be the only man who ever gives her something. I want her to have a part of me in her veins and I want to be in her veins. Seems only fair since she’s already in mine.
“Do it!” I snap and the doctor gives up, muttering curses to himself but he jabs my vein and connects me to Skyla. I watch the crimson pass through the tube and a sense of calm overcomes me. This is my way of repaying her.
Stroking her over the head, I whisper, “Take as much as you need, baby. Take it all.”
Even if she doesn’t respond, I still feel like she can hear me and I bend down and kiss her on her lids. Nuzzling her throat, I’m relieved to find that she’s regained some of her warmth but I still pull the blanket over her just to be sure.
“Who is she to you?” the doctor asks. “Family?”
“None of your business,” I grunt, my eyes still fixed on Skyla’s sleeping face. I miss the dark serene color of her gaze and the wetness and softness of her giving lips.
