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The soft tapping of the branches against my window distracted my focus from my homework.

My pencil spinning in my hand as I looked toward my textbook.

I groaned in frustration as I placed my head in my hands, briefly closing my eyes from the exhaustion.

I closed my book, throwing my pencil against the desk as I pushed my chair away in anger.

The tapping continued and I put my earbuds in, playing the soft music that toned out the distracting branches.

The loud thump that replaced it made me jump, quickly taking out bud out of my ear to see what had caused it.

My eyes widened as I saw a man dressed in black outside my window, leaning against the edge.

My heart quickened, and I realized he saw me before I had a chance to run.

His eyes were dark, and his face had cuts and bruises that made his face covered in blood.

I gulped in fear, and when he leaned his head against the window I saw that a gun was in his hand, making me freeze. I was alone, and I didn't know what he would do if I didn't do what he asked.

He signalled for me to come to him and I slowly walked toward him, opening my window quickly as I watched him clutch his side.

He hissed out in pain as he stared up at me, silently pleading for me to help.

"I-" I started, and I took a step back, prepared to close the window again.

"Please," he breathed out.

I quickly ran back to the bathroom, grabbing medical supplies as I made my way towards him.

His eyes were closed as he leaned against the trim of my window, his hand now on his stomach, revealing his bloody black shirt.

I helped him through, a stupid teenage thought. How could I let him in? I had no clue who he was, or how he become so bloody.

He groaned as he sat on my chair, throwing his head back as he gulped.

I quickly grabbed the bandages, and hesitantly lifted up his shirt.

My breath hitched as I looked at the wound, his pale skin in contrast with the dark blood.

My eyes roamed to the other parts of his abdomen, his toned body heaving in pain and I started to wipe away the blood.

"Thank you," he whispered to me, his voice soft as he watched me clean his wound.

I took a deep breath, my hand shaking as I cleaned the cut.

What if he had a gun? He could shoot me when I was finished, why did I let him?

"You're welcome," I breathed, too scared to say anything else.

His hand squeezed my arm as I went over the cut, his voice gritting out a curse.

What made me feel even more nervous was how he stared at me, his eyes not moving away from my shaking body, and I felt even more scared.

Letting him in was a mistake, a mistake that had ruined everything.

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