Sweet Like Candy (MANxMAN)

04 - Jail Bait

Chapter Four

Antoine's POV

I fought for another breath, feeling it scrape my throat as I inhaled and burn as I exhaled. It felt like someone had opened me up, rearranged all my bones in different parts of my body, then decided to stitch me back closed with my femur in my arm.

The door opened with a quiet whoosh. The small doctor came through again, this time noticeably more angry. Instead of annoyed look on his face before, now he was sporting an odd medley of fury and fear. He aimed that gaze on me.

Since moving any region of my body resulted in a whirlwind of pain, I stayed still. He snatched a ball of something out of his pocket, then yanked gloves on his hands. A large black bag sat atop the dresser and he went over, rifling through it before pulling out a stethoscope.

Tobias followed behind the doctor like some sort of big cat, lean and fluid, constantly gathering information on everything around him. There was always an unruffled expression on his face, almost like he knew what you were thinking and thought you an idiot because of it.

I imagined at some point he'd had beautiful hair, silky and black. Now it was shaved into a tight military cut, showing off sharp cheekbones and thin, sculpted lips. Dark eyes cut to me as he stepped in, unreadable and cold. When I'd first seen him, he was a monstrous mesh of beast and man, cloaked in a coat the color of coal. When I'd dozed out in the locker room, I remembered flashes of incredibly small sweatpants and a T-Shirt.

He'd changed while he was out, wearing a pair of jeans and a white short sleeve. It did nothing to hide the tattoos that covered his body like an unholy second skin. They were dozens of colors and shades; cherry blossoms floating down his neck, a bloody tiger snarling on his forearm, gleaming swords on his chest, and curved black writing coating his fingers.

"This is Dr. Knight, he's gonna take a look at you," Tobias stated blandly, but under his words a threat simmered.

The doctor in question kissed his teeth, yanking a small stool over to the bed. He kept his bag by his side, pulling out a few bottles of clear liquid. The tiredness I'd felt dissipated, only to be replaced with sweltering anxiety. He'd want to see the bruises, to poke and prod and analyze what they'd done.

I stiffened on the bed, ignoring the probing look Tobias sent me.

"Your shorts need to be cut down," Dr. Knight said briskly. "I can't look at the wound unless the fabric is gone. Either you can do it or I can."

Dr. Knight produced a pair of scissors, offering them in my direction. I swallowed and accepted. I tried to cut quickly, ripping the material off as fast as I could, as if the faster I did it the less painful it would be. I was wrong, it was still painful, still humiliating, still degrading. Warren wasn't there to physically hurt me anymore, but he still haunted my body, my emotions, my thoughts. And that was the worst damage he could ever do.

The bloody fabric fell onto the sheets, revealing my thigh and the old bruises that covered it in a ugly blue color. I heard a sharp inhale, but didn't bother looking up to check who. I carefully ran a finger along the newest addition: a mess of mottled flesh from the monster that had been in the cage with me. Warren said he'd make sure I hurt, he kept his promise.

Dr. Knight's fingers prodded my skin without warning, pushing a hiss of pain out of my throat. Soreness permeated my body, but it was a mere ache compared to the gash.

Tobias stepped closer, turning Dr. Knights steady hands to tremble. Knight's eyes lost some of their hardness behind his glasses, and he flashed me a quick look to make sure I wasn't about to flop over and die.

"I'm fine," I answered to the unspoken question, my voice regressing to another cry as he kept checking.

"How old are you?" Knight suddenly asked, his touch gentling until it only felt like a butterfly brush against my skin. He snagged something from the bag beside him, pouring clear liquid onto some cloth.

"Nineteen." To distract myself from the cloth zeroing in on my thigh, I kept talking. It was gonna sting like a bitch. "I turn twenty in a week."

Loud coughing broke my concentration from the process, and I looked up, watching Tobias choke on nothing. His face reddened and he grasped onto the dresser like it was the only thing keeping him straight.

"Are you alright?" My body jumped on instinct. Maybe he needed some water—

"Don't worry about him," Knight cut in. He hit Tobias with a scathing look, seemingly more meaningful than just being upset about the threatened impromptu patch up for me. "Where were you living before?"

Knight brushed the cloth around the wound, burning my leg. The pain forced my body into cold shakes.

Something about Knight's face had me continue speaking, maybe it was because I hadn't talked to someone in so long, maybe it was because if I kept focusing on the agony of my leg I was going to pass out. "Here and there. I was staying with the Iron Fists for a while."

He hummed, because talking was useless at this point. It was clear to anyone who'd been in Citadel for long enough that I wasn't a part of them. I was a part of what they did. The Iron Fists mostly just ran a lot of guns, especially to felons who couldn't go out and buy them anymore, but they also had a hand in the serious prostitution downtown. Seeing as I wasn't wearing a leather jacket and Warren had me on a hit list, I was the latter.

Knight finished clearing the black crud off around the wound, then ripped open a package to reveal a needle and threat. The wound couldn't be that bad. I looked down. Okay, it was that bad. Not to mention the countless old crescent shaped bruises from knuckles and slick scars from broken glass.

A flash of something went over Tobias's face, too hard to be pity but too soft to be anything else. Anger rivaled my embarrassment, both mixing into a deadly combination until my eyes went hot with tears and my fists clenched. I never felt bad for myself, but I sure as fuck felt bad about myself when I got looks like that.

It wasn't like it was always like that, I'd had a chance to be a child once. It was a feeble few years, but I had it, and most kids in Citadel would've killed for that.

"You're all done." A voice broke me out of memories and I looked to Knight, finding the wound stitched up and him cutting off the loose thread. I didn't feel a thing. My eyes ran over his handiwork, counting over twenty-five stitches.

"Anything else?" Tobias spoke up, for the first time in what felt like a long time.

Knight stared at him, eyes flicking rapidly behind his glasses. Like he was looking for something. He must've not found it, because he gave a humorless scoff and snatched all the used medical supplies and stuffed them into his bag. He pushed something into my hand.

"Nothing else, nothing at all."

Knight stormed out of the room, but not before giving me a cautious look reserved for men on death row. The door slammed shut behind him, cloaking the room in silence.

If you liked this chapter, make sure to hit that lil star button and let me know. :) We hit #494 yesterday, and I just about cried in happiness.

When did you guys find Wattpad? I found it four years ago when I looked up "writing sites" on Google after binge reading every fantasy/science fiction novel in my library. Still firm on the fact that Ilona Andrews(husband & wife writing team) are my fantasy gods.

I'm dedicating this chapter to AnnaMLKoski, who indulges me in conversations about my characters being goofy. And who also shares my love of gifs. This ones for you!

- kirstin (and rollo)