The Cutie is a Boxer

CHAPTER 9

It was when we entered my house, Charly's house, that Dylan passed out. At that moment he had achieved a sickening pallid colour, almost transparent, which allowed his veins to show. Slipping my arms under his shoulders, I attempted to drag him to the bed that belonged to me, and which I merely -if not at all used- under Charly's shocked gaze.

"Did you kill him?" he dared to inquire, popping up an eyebrow.

That made my lips to form a small smirk on my face, while I sighed exhausted. Dylan certainly weighed a ton! "Don't worry" I managed to say puffing "he can do that himself, no help from me is needed."

Charly chuckled approaching me. "Let me do that!" He pushed me away softly, easily lifting Dylan's body in his arms and placing him to the bed. "Your turn now!"

I exhalled narrowing my eyes and grabbed some bandages, a pair of scissors, cotton and alcohol, since Charly couldn't find fire water. Carefully I removed his shirt, cutting the pieces of cloth where the dry blood had glued them onto Dylan's skin. Hesitating for a moment, I pulled his trouser's off as well, doing the exact same with the scissors there.

Small scratches and bruises were covering his whole body, but I assumed most of them were caused in earlier fights. The wounds concerning me were the long gush running from his left clavicle down his ribs, and a deep stab on his thigh, both of which were excessively bleeding.

"Stupid!" I yelled under my breath, growling.

I cut a large piece of cotton, soaking it in the liquor we used as fire water, and gently cleaning the uper wound from the blood and extricating any infections. Without the blood the scar seems less vital, so I move to the other, after wrapping bandages around his chest, carefully so that my fingers came in contact with his skin the least possible.

Charly always pointed out how engrossed I was when it came to stiching and stirilizing wounds. Observing me every time I took care of an injury caused by fights. He added that only then was I calm and patient.

"Tiger cub?"

The extremely weary voice that could belong to nobody else but Dylan, snapped me back to reality. I casted him a warning look "Don't talk, it requires a lot of energy!"

Then I leaned over his injured thigh, zeroing in on the fatal-looking wound, cleaning it, while he groaned in pain, all of his nerves tightening. This one was nasty and deeper than I thought... and for sure didn't look like a stab. He was shot!

"Oh my.."

"Don't start now, I'm not really in a mood." Dylan cut me off through clenched teeth.

"And you will never be, if I don't take that bullet out of your fucking leg!" I yelled.

"Then just do it!" he retorted in the same tone.

Freezing for a moment, I returned to the bloody hole. I needed tweezers to get that thing out, but at the moment my mind was preoccupied with another thought. Dylan's reaction. He remained restrained and quite. Was he shot before? Or did he react always like a placid ship?

"Charly, the tweezers." I muttered, cleaning away some more blood as he handed them to me. I left them in the liquor for a minute or so, before softly pushing them into the wound, the metallic sound, notifying me that the tweezers were just above the bullet. My eyes flew up to Dylan's face, who nodded, before I opened the tweezers ripping some more of his flesh. No sound escaped his lips and I continued, slowly dragging the bullet out.

"That's it.." I breathed in slowly, dropping the bullet inside a glass of water.

Dylan's tensed muscles relaxed and he laid his head back smiling pastorally to me.

"What?!" I barked, soaking some more cotton and pressing it onto the wound.

He winced in pain. "Thank you, tiger cub."

"I would tell you it was my pleasure" I replied with a death-stare "But it would be a lie."

Dylan smiled and I smirked, wrapping some bandages around his thigh. "You know, I am usually the one to undress girls and not the other way round!" he laughed, yet I could see he was still feeble.

I ignored that comment, rolling my eyes. "At least we're quits now. You saved me, I saved you. End of the story." and I begun to leave, yet his still cold fingers around my wrist stopped me. "What happened now again?"

"Stay with me." he whispered.

Collecting my medical coop, I raised an eyebrow, slowly lifting my eyes to meet his ocean-blue ones. "Excuse me?"

"Stay with me." he repeated, concern now indicated by his mingled eyebrows.

"I am not your nurse." I snapped, thrusting my arm out of his and leaving the room.

"Please, Scarlett..." he now begged, but I couldn't... I wouldn't! There were annoying tears filling my eyes, making me look like a fool. He should never see me like that!

My feet hardly cooperated to help me walk to the kitchen without collapsing on the floor.

I banged my kit down the sink, clutching the counter violently, to the point my knuckles ached and turned white. My head was spinning once again and I was covered in blood, yet that wasn't the problem, was it? No. The problem was that God-like brunette guy, lying on my bed, half-naked asking for me.

Why?

Why was I feeling this way?

Why had I brought him here?

Why didn't I hate him with all the power of my existence for what he had done?

The answer to all these questions roaming around my head could be only one, yet this one answer I couldn't take!

No, I didn't care. I didn't care at all!