“Oh yeah?! Reall.. stinking protecter, WHY DOES… HOLES FROM AN UNTOUCHABLE… Out of... UGH!” I hear as I wake up. I blink my eyes at the harsh light, trying to sit up. A hand that I can’t see pushes on the top of my chest, forcing me down. “No. You’ll just pass out again.” It’s the mystery boy’s voice from the woods. “Ugh, of course, you get to be the nice guy, while I’m the jerk, gee, thanks brother.” I hear the second voice say sarcastically. That was the one that was shouting. They both finally come into view. I recognized the mystery boy and sure enough, he was frowning at his pacing brother with worried eyes. I look to where he was and see why.
The brother was unique. He had ever-changing eyes, they were going from brown to blue to hazel, to all other colors, it was unbelievable. It seemed natural somehow though. He was slightly taller than his brother with the same tanned skin and messy dark hair. His muscles were more defined though, a cross ever-changing like his eyes hanging at his neck. I blink slightly, to try and clear away the sight, but it doesn’t happen. I slowly turn my gaze back to the mystery boy. “I’m sorry.” I say, my eyes tearing up slightly.
The mystery boy looks at me in exasperation, eyebrows raised. “Feisty girl says sorry?” He says in a mock-shocked tone.
“Feisty girl has a name.” I say coldly, throwing him a penetrating glare.
“If looks could kill...” He murmurs, double-taking. “Fine. Alina, what are you sorry for, exactly?”
“For causing all of this drama. It must be my fault, I must admit… I’ve never seen two men cry at once before.” He shakes his head, a slight blush coming to his cheeks.
“Whatever… how are you feeling?” His brother cuts in, examining me with those shocking eyes. I was still in the stupid dress and sweatshirt. I frown slightly, noticing a dark liquid being pumped through my wrist. I raise my eyebrows.
“I’m feeling fine,” I say, grimacing slightly when I see the arrow wounds.
“Uh huh... yeah... so is that why you just winced?” I roll my eyes, biting my tongue instead of letting out the sharp remark I had been about to snap out. I sit up slightly, slowly, then hang my feet over the edge of the bed. I wince slightly as the blood starts pumping through my body again, small red lines slinking out, away from the wounds. “Can I change?” I ask them, my face turning slightly green.
Mystery boy watches my face with a worried expression, analyzing every look. I look into his eyes, but then quickly look away. “Okay...” He says softly. “But I want to stitch those... may I pick you up?” He asks, once again as though I would break.
“She’s not made of glass, Zavier.” He sneers, picking me up harshly; snagging my clothes and making me bleed more. Zavier glares at his brother.
“Now look.” He shakes his head, gently taking me to a different room, slamming the door in his brother’s face.
“What’s his name?” I ask quietly.
“It’s Zander. Mine’s Zavier, but I think you knew that.” He says, looking down at me. I wince slightly as a pang shoots through my side. He moves a little faster, carrying me to a small room in the back. “All this stuff is for guests... this is kind of a safe house for… uhh... I’ll explain later.” He gives me an apologetic smile. I nod, starting to get a little dizzier. He flashes another blood bad to the needle in my arm. I quickly look away, observing the small room. It had cream colored walls with a shabby old bed. An old oak dresser stood at the end of the room, and a small bathroom was connected. He sits me on the bed carefully. “Can you hold yourself up?” He asks gently, moving away just before I answer and pulling out s pair of brown pants and a brown top. He also grabs some boots. “This will be easiest.” He looks at me apologetically, blushing furiously as he pulls down some underwear too. “Sorry...” He mutters quickly, then carries me into the bathroom.
“I could probably walk...” I murmur, sighing slightly. I couldn’t be mean to him anymore. I felt bad that I had snapped at him like that. He just shakes his head.
“No... It’s fine... just get changed so I can stitch you up... be quick about it, but…” He looks at the bandage. “You should wash up quickly too.” He nods then leaves the bathroom.
I sigh then look around again, spotting an old looking bath. I sigh slightly again, pouring in some lavender soap and adding rose petals, then I sigh, slowly unwrapping the bandage on my chest and waist. Pain flashes across my expression as I pull it away from my raw skin in the back and the front. I take a deep breath then slide into the water, quickly regretting it. I hiss in pain, watching as the water started to tint red. The door snaps open when I do, and I quickly try to cover myself only to realize there were a lot of bubbles.
“You okay?” I hear a voice from behind the crack.
“Fine.” I say, stuttering slightly. The door quickly closes again, but I had a feeling that I wasn’t alone. I quickly was the mud and dirt off of my skin along with the dried blood. I slowly pull myself up after I’ve washed my whole body, pulling my hair up in the ribbon that had been wrapped around the soap bottles. I yawn, grabbing the fresh gauze to make sure I didn’t bleed everywhere, then I pull on the clothes. I look in the mirror and sigh. It was ridiculous. The pants cuffed at my hips and at my ankles, but were loose in between. The boots covered the bottom, and the top really needed a belt. I carefully try to tie the top that cut off just below my chest, corseting in the back and forming a pre-tied corset in the front. It had short sleeves. I sigh, wincing when it hurts to do so, and then finally giving up on the back. I open the door, Zavier falling onto his back.
“Tie this?” I ask quietly, feeling nauseous at the pain I was in. He quickly nods, lacing it as if it were nothing, then quickly but gently picking up my frail-looking body.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asks, as if reading my thoughts. I look at him cautiously, not even knowing myself.
“Yesterday,” I say, flinching like I always did when I lied.
“Right... and my head is made of apple pie...” He murmurs, frowning slightly. I groan, not wanting to look him in the eyes. He brings me to a small room smelling of anesthetics. I frown at the cold silver table he lays me on, shivering and putting my arms around myself, flinching when my elbow scrapes my stomach. He quickly unwraps the gauze and cleans it, then pulls out the equipment he needed. “Sorry about this...” He says. I just nod, watching him, flinching when the needle enters my skin. Why couldn’t I breathe? I can’t help but watch, but eventually I look away, throwing up on the ground. He takes a pillow and puts it by my head. “Don’t watch,” He says. I nod, but flinch every time the needle pulls through, biting back tears. It seems like hours before he is done, but finally he is.
He pulls the pillow away from my head, frowning. “One of your lungs clasped.” He says slowly, as if wanting me to verify it. I just nod, finally figuring out why there was so much pain in my chest.
