Playing With Fire (A Merle Dixon Story)

Chapter Six

“Jesus Christ, ya’ tryin’ to kill me? That hurts!”

I jumped about a foot in the air, losing my balance and falling into the wall. My heart pounded and stared at him wide eyed. Guess he wasn’t as unconscious as I thought. I crept closer to the tub again.

“I’m...I didn’t mean to.” I started awkwardly.

“S’okay.” He mumbled, his eyes still closed. I could tell from the sound of his voice that even though he was awake, he wasn’t exactly all the way there.

“My name’s Harlow...I’m not here to hurt you. You’re just...Your arm, it’s infected pretty bad. I’m trying to help you.” I explained, keeping a close watch on him as I went back to cleaning the gaping wound. He flinched, but didn’t say another word. I took some gauze from the first aid kit and wrapped it up as best I could. “This should keep it from getting anymore infected.” I said. Even if he wasn’t really listening, it made me feel better to explain what I was doing.

“You a doctor?” He asked in a gruff voice.

I shook my head. “Not exactly. Paramedic.”

I watched as his slowly opened again and finally focused on me. He stared at me for a long second before taking me by complete surprise and laughing...although it sounded pretty weak which concerned me.

“What’s so funny?”

“I guess it makes sense why it’s you.” He said. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “I mean, you was the last person I was thinkin’ ‘bout and now here you are. Like a god damn guardian angel.”

He started laughing again and I decided to ignore it. He was clearly out of it, no idea what he was saying. I leaned forward and pressed the back of my hand to the skin of his forehead. He was on fire. I bit my lip nervously before turning back to the first aid kit and pulling out a pack of advil.

“I’m gonna need you to try and swallow these pills. I don’t know how much it will help with the pain, but it’s better than nothing. Plus, you have a pretty bad fever.” I said as I tore open the pack with my teeth and emptied the two orange colored pills into my hand.

“Whatever you say, princess.” He said before opening his mouth. I placed both pills into his mouth and he swallowed hard. I held his head in my hand as I brought the water bottle to his lips and he took a long sip, spilling some down his front.

I screwed the lid back on the bottle and sat back onto my knees with a sigh. It sucked because it was the least I could do. I didn’t have any fancy medical machines or pills. Literally all I had to save a dying man was a backpack and a lousy first aid kit. I noticed the dried blood on his one good hand and remembered the smashed mirror. Now it made sense. I grabbed more antiseptic from the first aid kit and leaned over him to clean out the small, tiny gashes that covered the back of his hand and knuckles.

“As if you weren’t in bad enough shape, you had to punch something.” I murmured as I wiped away the dried blood.

“I was mad.” He responded after a second.

I rolled my eyes. “Typical man.”

“You know, you got some pretty nice fuckin’ legs. Damn those things go on for miles.” He suddenly said in his raspy voice.

I stopped wrapping the bandage around his hand for a second, caught off guard but shook it off quickly. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk. Save your energy.” I suggested. Normally, I would have slapped a guy across the face for saying something like that. I couldn’t bring myself to hit a man who was already half dead. Plus, I still was 99% sure he had no idea what he was really saying.

“I bet you’re fuckin’ wild in bed.”

I felt my eyes grow wide and I placed a finger over his mouth. “Okay, buddy. Time to be quiet. You need to rest.” I said exasperatedly. I could feel my cheeks turning red and was glad his eyes were closed. “I’ll be in the next room."

I waited, but he stayed quiet so I stood up and moved into the living room. I inspected the couch, debating on whether to keep the old, dust covered sheet on or off before I sat down. I decided I didn’t trust what was underneath and collapsed on top of the white cover, stretching out. My thoughts wandered back to the man in the bathroom, who’s name I didn’t even know. Wait...that was a lie. I did know. I remembered back in the city him referring to himself as ‘ole Merle’. I wrinkled my nose. What the fuck kind of a name was Merle? It sounded like the name of so backwoods old grandpa. Which, I guess, sort of fit him. He wasn’t that old, but he did have that hick thing going on. And he was rude and vile.

Why was I trying to help him again?I already knew that answer, though. It was because I was too damn fucking soft and couldn’t stand to even see someone like that suffer and die. I didn’t have it in me. Damn my bleeding heart. I let out another long sigh. I was going to have to move him sooner or later. If he stayed here, he’d be dead soon. While I really didn’t like the idea of dragging him around with me, he needed help. More than I could give. I’d have to go looking for it. My eyes lingered on the open bathroom door. I’d move him in the morning. If he made it until then.