What started in Paris

Chapter 3

Chapter three                                                                    (Picture of Adam Cross to the side)

We walk for what seems like years, my vision going blurry and then coming back into focus, causing my headache to get even worse, but finally I see the hotel coming into view and I doubt I've ever been so relieved. Once we get to the elevator I lean against the wall with my good shoulder and press my forehead to the cool metal, closing my eyes and focusing on keeping my breathing steady and not throwing up as we climb slowly upwards.

"I'm Adam, just by the way." I open my eyes tiredly and see the dark haired young man leaning against the other corner of the elevator, looking just as embarrassed as I feel. I give him a little wave, focusing too hard of not hurling to tell him my name.

When the elevator dings and the doors slide open with a whooshing sound Adam asks, "What room are you staying in?"

"410." I say softly, my throat feeling dry.

He nods and starts down the hall,  searches through my wallet to find my room key once he's found the right one, but pauses when he sees my ID.

"Wait, you are actually Day Weston?" Adam asks, looking down at me, his deep green eyes searching my features, one dark eyebrow cocked.

"Yes, that mean anything to you?" I ask curtly, trying to stare hum down but I still feel rather woozy. He remains silent and opens the door, flipping on the lights with a bit more force than necessary; pulling me in after him. When the door closes behind me I realize how bad this could be, some random guy in a hotel room with me, he could be a rapist for all I know and I'm not in any condition to fight him off.

I take my bag from him and set it on the coffee table, which seems a little too blurry for my taste.   "You should go." I say as I walk to the bathroom and turn on the harsh white light and see just how bad I look. My curly red hair is all over the place, half fallen out of it's ponytail, I shrug the large jacket off my shoulders and hiss in pain as I do so. When I turn to the side I see that I have rips all over my black t shirt, which is now sticking to the wound that has dirt and tiny shards of glass sticking out of it. I whimper a little and fight back a gag.

"You need help with that." Adam says, leaning on the doorway and scaring me half to death.

"It's okay, I can handle it." I say, but my voice cracks.

He sighs and walks into the bathroom, his military style boots clanking against the tile. "Do you want me to call someone for you?"

"No, there's no one to call." I say, looking down at my feet, thinking about just how much my mother would kill me for this, besides, she can't leave her job for another week.

He raises one dark eyebrow. "Then you do need me, so shut up and let me help you because if you don't get that shoulder sterilized you're going to get a nasty infection."

I finally nod and swallow hard, biting back my snarky reply because he was right. I did need him. As much as I hated to admit it.

"Okay, now sit on the counter." He says in a bit of a softer tone and I do as I'm told, trying to look anywhere but at him. He grabs his med kit and places it on the counter next to me, unpacking it slowly and lining everything up in some sort of organized pile, his face twisted in concentration.

"Why were you in that ally? You could have gotten yourself killed." He asks, looking at me with green eyes hidden behind black hair and black glasses that don't match the rest of his rugged look, and taking me completely by surprise. Was this really the time to discuss my personal traveling choices?

"It was a simple mistake." I say, defensively but he won't meet my eyes. "How was I supposed to know I would end up in the middle of a firefight?"

"That's not the point." He says, his voice quiet; giving me an aggravated look. "That aside, I need to check your head first and make sure you're not bleeding anymore, then I'm going to clean your wounds. It's going to hurt. A lot. I would give you a sedative but I don't have any on hand." Adam says, finally looking into my eyes, his eyes gentle but steady behind his glasses.

I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, and trying not to focus too much on just how tall he looked, hovering over me like some dark, pale shadow.

He takes the ponytail out of my hair gently and retwists my hair, tying it in a bun on top of my head to keep it out of the way and placing a wet cloth to the back of my neck. I wince at the coldness but soon am thankful for it.

"I think you just have a shallow cut, nothing serious." He says softly, leaning just a bit closer to inspect me. "Now I need to get the glass out of your shoulder and sterilize it, and it's not going to be pleasant." Adam says but I just nod and close my eyes, just wanting this whole weird and painful experience to be over.

He presses the rag to my shoulder and I hiss in pain, then he pours more of the liquid strait into the cut from the bottle and I grip the counter so hard my knuckles turn white and my hands shake as I let out a pitiful little noise. I feel like I'm on fire, my shoulder stings as the disinfectant bubbles and seeps deep into my skin and I try to think of something, anything, but this.

   "You have a very weird name." He says, and I can tell he's trying to distract me from the pain.

   "Well thank you." I say, my voice filled with sarcasm.

"Hey, I saved you from a murderer tonight, so I have the right to make fun of you all I want." He says with a smirk and takes out a pair of surgical tweezers, growing serious again. "This is going to hurt."