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I swiftly located the kit and knelt beside him. Although the gash on his arm seemed shallow, the one on his side concerned me.
"Just bandage it up. I'll be fine," he said.
"But you need stitches," I protested, looking up at him.
"I'll manage," he replied, rising to his feet and rummaging through the kit. He dropped the gauze and winced as he bent down to pick it up.
"Please sit down," I urged, pulling him onto the bed. He groaned in pain.
"We need to take you to the emergency room," I insisted.
"Why? So they can ask questions?" he countered.
"Well, what should I do then?" I asked, feeling helpless.
"There's a sewing kit in the molly bag on the side," he said.
I retrieved the kit and hesitated as I gazed at the needle.
"You look upset," he observed.
"I am upset," I replied, slamming the scissors onto the table. "We should have gone to the hospital. I don't know what I'm doing."
He took my hand as I wiped away a tear.
"I do. Trust me. You can do this," he reassured me.
"Hand me that bottle," he said, his voice rough with pain.
I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the bottle of rum. Was pouring alcohol on an open wound really the best idea? But I trusted him, and so I handed him the bottle. He poured some on the wound, grimacing, and then poured some on the needle.
"Pretend you're mending a shirt," he instructed, and I nodded shakily.
As I began to sew him up, I couldn't help but feel like I was in some kind of twisted horror movie. My hands shook with every stitch, and I had to remind myself to breathe. He gripped my thigh tightly, his face contorted with pain, but he didn't make a sound. As I carefully stitched up the deep cut on his side, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anxiety and fear creeping up on me. This wasn't something I was accustomed to, and the thought of making a mistake that could potentially worsen his condition was terrifying.
He noticed my unease and attempted to reassure me. "It's okay. You're doing great," he said, as he winced in pain with each stitch.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I finished sewing him up. The line was far from straight, but it would have to do. I bandaged him up as best I could and knelt back. He pulled me into him, his beard tickling my neck.
"Good girl," he murmured.
I reached up, running my fingers over his beard before pulling away. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”
I turned away from him to walk into the bathroom. My hands were still trembling, and I shook them out as I tried to calm myself. The situation was becoming too overwhelming for me, but I didn't want to reveal my fear to him. I refused to show that kind of vulnerability. After cleaning up, I prepared for bed. As I emerged from the bathroom, he was already fast asleep, and his gentle snores filled the room. I sighed and climbed into bed. Staring up at the ceiling, I couldn't help but reflect on everything that had happened in the past few days. It all seemed like a blur. The danger, the uncertainty, the adrenaline rush - it was all too much for me to handle.
But despite everything, there was something about him that made me feel safe. His rugged exterior and rough demeanor concealed a kind heart that always seemed to know what to do. And even in moments like this, when I was on the verge of breaking down, he had a way of making everything feel okay.
I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but my mind kept racing with thoughts of what could happen next. What dangers were lurking around the corner? Would we make it out of this alive?
Eventually, exhaustion overtook me and I drifted off to sleep. But even in my dreams, the fear and uncertainty remained, haunting me with every passing moment.
14
KRISTINA
The sun had just begunto rise as I opened my eyes, finding myself curled up next to Snare who was still sound asleep. Propping myself up on my elbow, I gazed at his handsome features - the sharp contours of his nose and his plump, inviting lips that I longed to taste. My fingers traced the outline of his beard before trailing down his bare chest, wondering how he would react if I were to explore further.
The night before, he had infuriated me, but it was only because I was deeply concerned for his safety. I realized that it wasn't the thought of dying that frightened me the most; it was the thought of losing Snare that truly terrified me. My fingers found their way back to his beard as I reminisced about the way he had made me feel - wanted, cherished, and protected. He had saved my life twice, putting his own at risk for my sake. Simple words of gratitude seemed insufficient; I wanted to show him just how much he meant to me.
