"You've gotta be kidding me," I watched him crumble to the floor and lean against the bathtub.
"Come on," he sent me a sly smirk, "you gonna let me bleed out here or what?"
Lucky for him, he had put me in this predicament more times than I could count. By the medical supplies under my sink, you would have thought I was a doctor rather than a hairdresser.
Just like he had taught me, I took out the bullet, cleaned his wounds, and bandaged him up.
The whole time, he just smiled at me, which only made me angrier. Every time I tried to move on in my life, Adam and I ended up back here. He had this hold on me, and the worse part was, he knew it. He used it against me. I fell for it every time.
Tossing the used medical supplies in my bathroom trash bin, I then washed my hands in the sink. I felt his gaze from the bedroom but didn't bother to look. It wasn't until I looked into the mirror that I could see him staring at me through the reflection.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, that playful smile on his lips.
After turning off the water, I dried my hands, turned off the light, and went into the bedroom.
Winston was curled up on one of my pillows, having finally calmed down once he realized we weren't fighting - for now.
"You did good," Adam looked down at his bandaged bullet wounds. "You've gotten better. The first time, you nearly passed out. Even puked afterward."
I rolled my eyes, going over to my dresser. In the second drawer were his t-shirts that I stole. I took out a black one and tossed it at him.
"You couldn't have gone to a hospital?" I poked my hip out and crossed my arms over my chest.
"You were closer," he shrugged. "Besides, you know it's better if I don't go to the hospital."
I bit my tongue, trying my best not to give him hell. Two months, the longest we've been broken up, and this is how he returns. I shouldn't have expected anything less.
He put his head through the neck hole of his shirt but had a hard time putting his arms through the sleeves without hurting his shoulder.
"Let me help," I went over.
I took the shirt off of him and slid it up his arms first. I then stretched it, so he could put his head through and then pulled it down.
The whole time, he kept his eyes on me.
"What, Adam?" I snapped.
"Nothing," he looked me up and down. "It just looks like I came at the right time."
He reached for my bra strap, but I grabbed his hand and tossed it down, "who shot you?"
"It doesn't matter," he stood.
I pushed back down on the bed, causing Winston's head to perk up.
"You broke into my house and came to me for help. So, yeah, it does matter."
"It's not breaking in if I have a key," he said matter-of-factly.
"Just answer the question, smart ass!" I yelled. "Just tell me who it is and that he's dead, and he's not coming back to hunt you down!"
My eyes watered, and my anger only skyrocketed. I was showing him that I cared, and I hated myself for it.
He took my hand and kissed the back of it, "don't worry, he's -"
His phone rang, scaring me a little. He pulled out his burner phone, answered the call, and put it on speaker.
"Chief Randall, what do I owe the pleasure?"
