La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

8. Beguile

"No that's all there is to it," I said, trying to reassure her with a nervous smile. "Leslie did nothing wrong."

The young woman shook her head, before walking up to the two of us.

"You attacked him didn't you?" she accused him. "Les, why would you do that? What happened to you saying that you wanted to change? You don't change do you?"

Leslie cocked his head back, pursing his lips. A tense smirk on his lips, he looked up at her.

"Are you on your period? You're so unreasonable today," he snapped back. "Maybe you should come back when you've changed your diaper. Must be real uncomfortable down there."

Josephine just responded with a tight slap on his face. The sound of her hand hitting his cheek resonated through the infirmary. I couldn't help but notice the redness on his left cheek where she had hit him.

"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath as she stormed off.

The young woman slammed the door behind her. Leslie let out a sigh, before looking at me.

"You all right?" he asked. "Your ankle should be fine in a week."

I only nodded and smiled awkwardly.

"And thanks for sticking up for me," he said patting my back. "I appreciate it, kiddo."

He looked around the examination room, an excited sparkle in his eyes.

"Do you want to sit in a wheelchair?" he said as he got up. "I can push you around."

"It's fine," I said as I slowly got on my feet, careful as to not put too much weight on my sprained ankle. "I can walk."

Slinging my arm around his shoulder, he helped support me as we slowly made our way to the door.

"You know," I said as we walked out into the empty ward, where all the vacant beds of the hospice were. "I don't think you should've said that to Josephine, Clara, whatever."

The young man sighed as he looked down.

"I know," he muttered underneath his breath as he walked me out of the infirmary wing and towards the main cloister. "But you know, she was being quite irrational."

"She was worried sick," I replied. "And after seeing me like that? You should give her a break you know?"

The young man was only silent as we walked down the corridor past the central garden. It was already late in the evening, and for the nuns, that meant free time on their schedule. There were a few sisters up and about, walking around the candlelit cloister.

"Your room is on the second floor right?" Leslie asked as we reached the staircase. "You sure you can climb up the stairs?"

I gulped. If it already hurt when I tried to walk, what more when I try to climb a flight of stairs? The young man seemed to sense my apprehension.

"My room is by the south western corner," he told me. "By the bell tower. It's not that far."

"No it's fine," I said. "I can climb. It's not that far anyway."

"Your ankle needs to rest," he insisted. "You can stay in my room."

The young man's room was smaller than mine. It was sandwiched between the bell tower access ladder and the utility room. It seemed to be a converted storage room of some sort. Leaning against the far end of the room was a single bed with a simple iron bed frame. The block walls were undecorated, save for the efflorescence stains. The floor was bare, and the shelves on the wall were cluttered with his belongings: a stack of folded clothes, a few backpacks, an ammo container and a couple of boxes just to name a few. A few jackets and jumpers hung from the hooks on the back of the door. By the side he managed to squeeze in a two seater sofa, as well as tuck a small end table in the corner. There was an old cd player on the table, together with a couple of album casings strewn about. It was quite a compact room.