Breathless ✓

Three ✔

His question catches me off guard and it takes my mind a second to conjure up an answer.

"N-no one." I'm not entirely sure what he means but I can clearly see the guarded expression on his features, the way he keeps all traces of emotion from entering his stony gaze; he is suspicious, and doesn't trust me. "I'm not working for anyone. I told you, I found you on the road."

I take a deep breath, making sure that my next words are spoken with confidence. "If I were against you, you'd already be dead." I shoot a quick glance at his face, though it is still indifferent. "I found you about twelve hours ago, you were losing blood quickly and it was too dangerous to drive long distance, otherwise I would have brought you to a hospital, but I brought you here. I saved your life."

My heart is hammering in my chest and I thank whoever is listening for allowing my voice to stay monotonous.

Our eyes meet as a tense silence stretches out into the room. The almost black colour of his eyes giving nothing away. His gaze is calculating and I shift under the intense stare, suddenly feeling that the room is getting a little too hot. It's not helping that the man pressed against me seems to be made of pure, solid muscle, rippling with every movement and stretching the thin fabric of my fathers old shirt as if it might tear apart at any moment.

"Y-you're kinda in my personal space here." I manage to wheeze out between shallow breaths. The deeper I breathe, the closer we move.

I see the moment his resolve melts away, causing him to step back and finally allowing me to breathe freely. Gulping down the much needed oxygen, my shoulders sag a little from their hunched position.

"Thanks.."

I allowed the word to hang between us for a second, giving the large man a chance to introduce himself. He, however, simply grunts in obvious disinterest and starts limping towards the bed; though I notice that he is refraining from turning his back completely towards me.

I jump slightly when a hiss escapes his lips, his features contorting with pain.

"Goodness, you're hurt," I exclaim, hurrying to his side in a flash. "Here, let me help you."

With one arm around his torso, while the other fluffs the cushions for him, I gently ease him down so his back is resting against the headboard.

"Wait here, I'll get you something for the pain."

He doesn't answer and, just for a split second, the malice in my heart threatens to rise, the part of myself that I try so hard to suppress; in short, the part that would love to let him suffer because he's acting like a pompous jerk. But I know that letting him hurt would be just as bad as harming him with my own hands, and I never, ever, want to hurt another human being.

My mother taught me better than that.

Shaking those thoughts from my mind, I quickly hurry to retrieve the small bottle of medicine from the bathroom. It is in a cabinet above the sink; locked for my own safety. I tend to be in a different state of mind after waking from a nightmare.

Filling a glass with water, I take two pills from the container and put it back in it's designated space.

Walking over to the window, I pull up the blinds, allowing the soft gleam of light to fill the room, chasing away the darkness and forcing a silent sigh from my lips.

"Here, take these. They're strong so two should be enough for now." I hold out the glass and medicine for him to take. 

The man eyes them suspiciously, that ever calculating emptiness once again present in his black orbs. "I don't need anything from you." His voice is almost angry-- almost. "I was perfectly fine before you showed up."