December // A Winter Soldier Story

6

Dｅｃｅｍｂｅｒ １９ｔｈ， ２０１３

１８°

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵

Why did he come here? Why did he come to her?

His blood is staining her deck a red that is so deep it appears black. His blue eyes look past her, staring unfocused into the night. She is trembling.

Her fingertips are pressed against his cheek, but it feels like they are brushing a flame. Each touch burns her — leaves a mark — but she refuses to pull her hand away. She feels like if she does, he will no longer be real.

But he is dying, and so she must let go of him and act. If she doesn't, he really will fade into nothing. His breaths are slowing with each second.

His only hope lies within her, but she is at a loss for what to do. She doesn't know who he is, where he came from, why he is dying. She is mostly, however, stuck on one question: why did he come to her?

She wishes she knew. But now is not the time for questions -- those can be asked later, if he survives. Which as of now, he will not.

She forces herself to rise and lunge for the phone. A friend of hers is currently in medical school, perhaps she will be able to help. There's no way the soldier can be taken to a hospital -- not when he is so clearly involved in criminal activities -- so this will have to do. If someone were to arrest him, she'd never get her questions answered.

The girl dials the number and waits. The tone sounds in her ear as she stares down at the face of the man currently bleeding out on her deck.

While unconscious, the man looks harmless. He looks soft and warm. She struggles to match the man before her with the man that had such empty eyes in the woods two weeks ago. That is, until she looks down, and sees the torn flesh and mess of red on his leg. Then suddenly the man before her now matches the cold figure she'd seen before exactly.

Her friend answers the phone on the third ring, despite it being so late. The girl immediately tries to convince her friend to come help, all while stroking the forehead of the soldier.

She does not know of the crimes he has committed, nor does she know of his past. All she knows is that he is different and unlike anything that's ever been in her life before. Something is drawing her to him. Perhaps it is destiny, perhaps she is acting on false faith. Maybe she's making it all up just because she wishes it to be the truth. No matter what the reasoning is, she cannot pull away from him.

Her hand is only on his cheek, but his warmth envelopes her entirely. This, she thinks, is something I can really feel.