New Beginnings-A Michael De Santa Fanfiction

Chapter Thirty Three

"You brought this pig headed fuck back?! What the fuck, Harper? He's the fucking reason we're in this situation to begin with!"
Trevor jumped up from the campfire at the sight of Michael, instantly charging at him.
"Hey man, chill out, you're killing my energy over here."
Truth protested, attempting to hold Trevor back.
Hannah joined in, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering something in his ear.
He immediately scowled and sat back down, crossing his arms like a small child.
"You better have a good fucking reason."
"Listen Trevor, I'm sorry-"
"Sorry isn't gonna fucking cut it every God damn time you try to kill me, Michael!"
"Shut the fuck up and let me explain!"
The two men dropped the argument and all eyes turned to me. I sighed.
"Trevor, Michael, you two obviously have had a rocky past, and this was yet another misunderstanding-"
"A misunderstanding that could've cost me my fucking life and you to be in the hands of the fucking FIB!"
Trevor protested.
"Just..listen. For fucks sake, please. While it was a fucked up, crucial misunderstanding, we're all in this together. And we're going to act like a team, for the better or worse, until this shit is over with. After that I could care less if you two hate each other, fuck each other, whatever. But for now, we're stuck together, okay?"
"Fine. But I've got my eyes on you."
Trevor threatened Michael, who just stood there, peering down at the ground.
"Hey man, looks like your bleeding out a little there."
Truth motioned towards the even darker stain on my dark leggings. I sighed, remembering the bullet wound as well as the damp clothes from North Yankton.
"Oh yeah, that's nothing. If you guys will excuse me for a moment."
I entered my tent, digging through my pile of clean clothes, hippie clothes, at that.
I sighed, pulling out a beige tank top and a pair of loose fitting jeans with patches. Hannah had quite the style, that's for sure.
I undress and peer down at the wound, grimacing at the mostly dried blood. I grabbed a towel, attempting to blot it off.
"Hey. Can I come in?"
A muffled voice outside the tent asked. I immediately knew who it was.
"Is Trevor looking?"
I asked.
"No, he followed that chick and that hippie dude somewhere up the hill. It's just me."
I rolled my eyes, unzipping the tent and allowing him in. He crouched down, zipping the tent back up, and sat beside me. He gazed up and down my body in lust, making my stomach somersault. He shook his head and looked down at my wound.
"Damn, it got ya pretty good didn't it."
I sighed.
"It's nothing, really."
"Well here, let me help."
He looked down at the makeshift first aid kit I had brought, pulling out an alcohol wipe. He gently opened it and wiped the cut. I grimaced at the pressure. He grabbed a gauze pad and some tape, carefully wrapping it. He then helped me into my jeans. I pulled my shirt on.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Listen, Harper, I'm really sorry-"
"We'll talk about it later, okay, Michael?"
He sighed, biting his lip and nodding his head.
I slowly exited the tent, leaning on Michael for balance. I stood up and looked around.
"Hey, have you seen Dad anywhere?"
I asked Michael.
"To be honest I don't think I've ever met him in person. But no, there wasn't any other male here other than that weird Truth guy, Trevor if you wanna call him that, and myself."
I sighed, slightly relieved that Michael didn't have some kind of asshole comment to make about me bringing my father who kidnapped me along.
I shrugged.
"He probably just made a supply run or something. Let's go find the others."