Mistakebound - YBXVON

Chapter 21: Mixed feelings

"The fuck was you thinkin', mane?" Kentrell yelled, his voice filled with pain, as he clutched his wound with his hand. 

"If it wasn't for me, the cops would've caught up to us, and we'd be in jail right now, Kentrell." I said, slowly moving my hand to the hem of his shirt, gently lifting it. He glanced down at me as I assisted him in removing his shirt, tossing it away.

"Sit." I softly instructed, guiding him to the couch. 

As he settled, slowly spreading his legs and throwing his head back, he looked up at me slightly panting while gripping his wound with his hand. 

Taking a seat on the armrest, I crossed my legs to face him.

Shifting my attention to the dresser, I retrieved a first aid kit, sterile tweezers, medical scissors, and gauze.

Carefully, I wiped his wound and observed him grimacing, teeth gritted. 

"Fuuuck" he muttered under his breath as I touched the wound, examining it. 

"Kentrell, you're going to be okay. Just relax, please." I reassured him, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

He half-opened his eyes, looking up at me as i gave him a comforting smile.

Bringing the tweezers close, I focused on the wound, slowly inserting them.

"Aww, shitt" he exclaimed, jerking his body back and yanking his arm away, gripping it tightly.

"Kentrell, you can't be doing that!" Concern etched my face as I grabbed his arm, pulling it toward me.

"Just let me handle this real quick." I spoke softly as he glared at me, sweat trickling down his body.

"Dis shit hurts so fuckin' bad" he said, looking at me before closing his eyes and resting his head on the couch again. 

"I understand, but it won't last too long. All you have to do is relax ur muscles. Please, let me just handle this." I spoke softly, grabbing the tweezers again, wiping them with sanitizer before slowly inserting them into his wound.

He instantly hissed, gripping the armrest tightly with his hand. 

"Don't forget to breathe in and out, Kentrell." I gently instructed. 

As I dug deeper, extracting a fragment of the bullet and placing it on a tissue, I observed him with his mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling, eyes shut tightly with sweat profusely dripping down his neck and head.

"You're doing so good." I softly spoke, wiping the tweezers again before slowly opening the wound a little to get a better look.

As I pulled out a significant fragment of the bullet, I noticed him repeatedly moving his leg up and down, shaking it as he hissed.

After successfully clearing all the debris from his wound, I skillfully wrapped it with gauze, applying a pain-relieving cream— grateful for his mother who provided it all. 

After narrowly dodging a significant car crash with a trunk, and speeding three times the limit to outmaneuver the cops, we managed to escape. 

Kentrell then directed me to drive over to his mom's place. So, here we are.

After finishing up in the bathroom, I softly opened the door and walked out, heading towards the kitchen. 

There, I found Kentrell slouched in his seat, lost in thought, tightly gripping his carefully wrapped wound.

His mom was consoling him, murmuring something soothing. Approaching them, his mom noticed me, her head turning my way, and she greeted me with a warm smile.