I Refuse to be a Named Character

Part 1

"A coward?" A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Could have fooled me."

"I really am. It's just..." I paused, letting out a frustrated breath. "I know what it's like to be alone, and helpless." I remembered the look in his eye, the one that showed he knew no one would help him. "No one should have to face something like that... much less alone."

"You lost your chance to escape." It wasn't a question this time, and I didn't bother to lie.

"Yes."

"Do you regret it?"

"No." And I didn't. Even if I had escaped, I wouldn't have been able to sleep at night if I had left this boy to die.

He smiled widely at that. "Then I guess I owe you one." Holding out his hand, he introduced himself. "I'm Luke, what's your name?"

I smiled back. "I'm not important enough to have a name." I had already decided to forget who I had been before I traveled here. It was better this way, to be a nameless side character. In a series where everyone important died, the only safe move would be to stay unimportant and far away from the main story. Reaching out, I shook his hand, but the motion tore open the wound on my back and shoulder, and I pulled back with a hiss of pain.

"What is it?" With a slightly panicked look, he got up and looked at my back, gasping. "You're hurt!"

"It's fine... I'm... Hey!" I let out a startled shout as he picked me up, carefully avoid the cut on my back, and carried me to one the nearby courtyards. It seemed dirty, abandoned. I had been most places in the household since I woke up, but I had never been called to clean this area before. There was only a building and a small outhouse. As we entered the through the door, the inside was clean, if bare, with only a thin mat and a single rough wooden chair and table. Compared to the many luxurious places near the main house, this was barely better than where they housed the slaves. Before I could ponder that too closely, however, Luke carefully sat me down on the mat, and then ran back to get the bucket of water and the medical supplies.

When he returned, he had a slightly uncomfortable expression, and stared at me silently for a few moments.

"..."

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. "What is it?"

"I... need to look at your wound." He turned his face to the side as he spoke, his ears had turned bright red.

"..." I flushed slightly as I realized the source of his discomfort. The wound was on my upper back and shoulder, and would be difficult to see with my shirt on. I reached around with my good hand, but the cut went too far back, I wouldn't be able to dress the wound by myself.

"... Just lift up the back of my shirt." I finally spoke up in the awkward silence.

"Okay. I'm sorry." With a quick apology, he knelt down behind me, gently lifting up the shirt to expose my back and shoulder. I leaned forward, clutching the front of the bloody shirt to my chest, wincing as the cloth stuck to the dried blood on the edges of my wound.

"Sorry." He apologized again, his voice barely a whisper.

"It's ok."

"No, it's not." His tone was harsh but it didn't reflect in his actions as he softly applied the medication to the cut. "I hate them. All of them. They enjoy hurting other people just because they can."

I sighed. "Not everyone. You don't. I don't."

"One day, when I'm strong enough, I'll come back here and kill them all for the terrible things they've done."