You can't cling on to the past, because no matter how tightly you hold on, it's already gone.
~~
The door slammed.
I could hear him enter the house.
'Please be sober. Please be sober." I silently prayed.
The sound of stumbling footsteps and slurred muttering ensued.
"Angelica you bitch! Get down here!" His voice bellowed.
My heart sank.
"Don't make me come up there!" He warned.
I swallowed down the dread I was feeling and squared my shoulders. My chest rose as I took in a deep breath. My legs felt like jelly as I finally made my way downstairs.
"I'm here." I forced my voice to sound even.
His lips turned up into a sneer as his eyes landed on me. I eyed the glass of scotch in his hand warily.
"I told you to clean the fucking house!" He barked.
I suppressed the urge to flinch.
I couldn't show this bastard that I was afraid of him. I wouldn't give his sadistic mind that satisfaction.
"I did," I responded, not breaking eye contact.
"Then why can't I see it?" He demanded.
My eyes narrowed in irritation. "Maybe because you're drunk out of your goddamn mind and you can't see straight?" I snapped.
The glass of scotch he'd been holding in his hand suddenly crashed into the wall behind me, missing my head by mere centimeters.
I screamed.
"How dare you disrespect me! After all, I've done for you and your whore mother!"
He was coming at me, fist raised.
I knew he was going to hurt me.
I needed to run but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed.
I jolted up in the bed. My breaths came in short gasps.
Dream. It was only a dream.
I took in the unfamiliar surroundings but as the panic fogging my mind started to clear I relaxed.
I was safe. He couldn't hurt me here.
There was a loud thud and I yelped in surprise.
I realized that it was the same noise that had woken me up.
I got out of bed and tiptoed outside the room, the fireplace poker clutched in my hand was my only weapon. It was dark but I didn't bother turning on the lights. The moonlight shone through the large window in the lounge. I could make out the silhouette of a man sitting on the sofa. My heartbeat escalated.
"Who are you?" I managed to speak up.
"Don't be afraid it's only me."
My shoulders relaxed in relief as I recognized Sebastian's voice. I put the poker stick down.
"Did I wake you? I apologize." He spoke softly but something about his voice was off it sounded almost strained. Something was wrong.
My footsteps were hesitant as I approached him.
"You were gone," I stated.
I could see his chin dipping in a slow nod. "I was, yes. I just came back."
There was a pause.
"Do you know how to stitch?" The randomness of his question caught me off-guard.
"Excuse me?" I sputtered.
"Do you know how to use a needle and thread?" He asked calmly.
"Uh- yeah?" I answered still confused
"That's good." He sighed. "Can you please turn on the lights? I can't see a thing."
My fingers searched for the switch on the wall and I flipped it on.
"Why did you want to know if I knew how to-" The words died down in my throat and I screamed in horror. "Oh my God!"
His torso was bare and he had a blood-soaked shirt pressed over his right shoulder.
He was bleeding. Badly.
"You're hurt." I managed to sputter.
"Yes, thank you for telling me." He responded dryly.
"What can I do to help?" My brain finally managed to comprehend what was going on.
He sighed, almost in relief, like he'd been waiting for me to ask.
"Go to the bathroom down the hall and get some clean towels, soak them with water. You'll find a small white box under the sink, can you please get these things for me?" I could tell that he was in a lot of pain by how strained his voice was.
I ran as quickly as I could and got the things he'd asked for.
"What now?" I demanded.
"The bleeding has stopped thankfully. Give me the wet towel. I need to clean the wound." He extended his good arm towards me.
I swallowed. "I'll do it."
"Are you sure?" He asked quietly.
I nodded. "Just tell me what I have to do."
"Okay." He exhaled. He removed the shirt he had pressed over his shoulder and I cringed. The skin on his shoulder had been sliced open. The cut was deep, it ran from his shoulder to his upper bicep. It looked really bad. He leaned back against the sofa so I could see clearly.
"Use the towel to clean around the wound." His firm voice snapped me out of my shock.
I swallowed as I clutched the wet towel in my hand.
I propped my knee on the sofa beside his thigh. I had to bend my body over his in order to reach the wound. I could feel his breath on my neck and the heat radiating off his body.
I spent the next few minutes carefully cleaning around the cut as gently as I could.
My eyes locked with his and my breath hitched, we were so close our noses were practically brushing against each other. His pupils dilated.
"What next?'' My voice came out in a whisper.
"Open the box." His voice was hoarse.
I did as he said. Inside the box, there was a sealed packet of sterilized needles and surgical thread, some bandages, gauze, and a bottle of antiseptic spray.
"You said you knew how to stitch." He looked at me expectantly.
My eyes widened in shock as I jumped to my feet. "You want me to-? Are you insane? When I said I knew how to use a needle and thread I meant on clothes or curtains not on people! You need a doctor, you need to go to the Hospital!"
"In case you have not noticed, I don't really live a normal life, sweetheart. I can not go to the hospital." He closed his eyes briefly, the exhaustion clearly getting the best of him. "If you are not comfortable I understand. I'll have one of the men come up and do the job. I would have done it myself but I am right-handed and the blood loss is getting to my head."
I paused.
What the hell are you thinking Angelica?
This is insane.
I let out a shaky breath. "I can try. But let me warn you, I've never done this before."
He gave me a small smile. "Don't worry I will guide you."
I nodded and took a deep breath. I tore the packet open. My hands were shaking pretty badly, it took me a while to get the thread into the needle. He didn't say anything, he just waited patiently, his eyes focused on my face.
I leaned over him again, trying to get a good angle.
I felt his hand on my hip. He gently pushed me forward. I yelped as I found myself straddling his lap.
"You'll have better access this way." He said gently.
I swallowed. He was right, I could reach the cut easily from this position.
"Tell me if it hurts too much," I told him as I brought the needle to his skin.
His hand stayed on my hip as I stitched. I could feel the heat from his touch seeping through my jeans, it was hard to stay focused.
"How did this happen?" I asked in order to distract myself from his touch.
"It may come as a surprise to you but there are quite a few people out there who aren't particularly fond of me. I got careless, the bastard managed to pull a knife on me, aimed for my neck but got my shoulder instead." He chuckled dryly.
I paused what I was doing, my eyes met his. "Nothing about this situation is funny." My voice came out harsher than I had intended.
I felt his body go rigid beneath me for a second but he relaxed. His eyes softened. "I apologize. You are right. This isn't a joke. What you are doing for me, I will never forget it."
I didn't answer him.
"All done," I said softly as I finished.
I felt his fingers squeeze my hip lightly before they disappeared. I quickly got off him and discarded the used needle. I sprayed the antiseptic medication onto his now-closed wound and covered it with the gauze and bandage.
"Thank you, Angelica." He murmured, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally getting the better of him.
I could feel my heart tug with sympathy.
"You need to lie down." I urged.
He didn't respond. I noticed the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He was already asleep.
I leaned over him again. Taking in his features. They were harsh even when he was asleep. His eyebrows were still drawn together forming a small crease, lips pulled downwards into a frown. His jawline and cheekbones protruded angrily.
I sighed.
I cupped the back of his head gently with my hand and guided him to lie down. I adjusted a throw pillow beneath his head and propped his legs on the sofa so that he was lying down properly. I walked to the room I had been sleeping in and returned with the quilt from the bed. I draped it over the sleeping man.
For some reason I couldn't bring myself to leave him alone so I settled down on the small cushioned armchair beside the sofa.
I glanced at his sleeping form again.
He was a criminal, part of the mafia. Why was I even surprised that someone had tried to kill him?
If I was smart I would leave the first thing tomorrow and never look back.
~~
I woke up with a start.
I took in my surroundings in confusion.
I was lying on the sofa Sebastian had been on last night, the same quilt draped over me.
"Good morning." A deep voice had me yelping in surprise.
My hand clutched my chest, trying to get my heartbeat in control.
Sebastian leaned against the kitchen counter across the lounge.
"You need to stop doing that!" I hissed.
"I apologize." He responded but something in his tone made me believe that he wasn't sorry at all.
I noticed that his hair was damp, indicating that he had showered. He was wearing a navy blue sweatshirt with black sweatpants.
"How did I end up on this sofa?" I asked suspiciously.
He didn't respond.
My eyes narrowed. "Please don't tell me that you lifted me and put me here with your injured shoulder."
He chuckled somewhat in embarrassment. "I got up early. You were passed out in the armchair and it looked uncomfortable. I tried to lift you up but my shoulder wouldn't allow it so I shook you awake and guided you to the sofa. You were half asleep when it happened so I am not surprised that you can not recall this."
I was completely baffled at this point.
"How is your shoulder?" I asked finally.
"Fine." He gave me a small smile. "I never got a chance to thank you properly last night."
I waved my hand dismissively. "You don't need to. I'm just glad I could help."
I got up from the sofa and made my way towards him in the kitchen.
I'd agreed to stay for one night.
Now it's morning. I need to say goodbye and leave.
How do I do that without making it awkward?
"Coffee?" His voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I could say goodbye after I had caffeine in my system.
"Sure," I answered with a smile.
He started reaching for the cabinet above but stopped suddenly. I didn't miss the way his face contorted in pain.
His shoulder.
He cursed under his breath.
"Are you alright?" I couldn't keep the concern from my voice.
I wanted to kick myself as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
He's clearly not okay.
"Let me get that for you," I said as I nudged him gently so that he moved over giving me room.
I tried reaching the cabinet but it was too high even when I stood on the tips of my toes.
I stole a glance at Sebastian who had his hip propped against the counter. His arms were folded in front of his chest as he eyed me with unshielded amusement.
I could feel the burning in my cheeks.
I mean I knew for a fact that I wasn't that tall but I wasn't short either.
Whoever designed this house must have had a serious grudge against people who weren't tall.
I sighed in exasperation.
I dragged the bar stool from the kitchen island and climbed up. I opened the cabinet and took out two white ceramic mugs. I closed the cabinet and got down from the stool. I could feel Sebastian's gaze on me the entire time.
I gave him a pointed look before placing the mugs on the counter beside him.
He didn't take his eyes off me. Finally, his lips curled into a smile almost as if he was in awe.
~~
Sebastian placed the cup of steaming coffee in front of me. I picked it up and inhaled.
I loved the smell of coffee.
My eyes went to his shoulder again.
"Do you live here alone?" I asked the question but I already knew the answer.
"Yes." His response was brief.
"But you have hired help right? Someone to cook for you, clean the house, do the laundry?" I inquired.
I knew it was dense but I could never picture this brutish man doing household chores.
I could see the annoyance seep into his expression. "Why would I hire someone to do things I'm perfectly capable of doing on my own?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in that way." I said quickly.
He sighed. "I know. It's the lack of sleep, it's making me a little irritable."
I nodded.
"What I meant to say was that right now you're hurt and you need some help." He scowled and started to interrupt but I didn't let him. "I'm not trying to put you down or degrade you. There's nothing wrong with needing help, especially when you're hurt, it's not weakness it's normal human nature."
"I've always managed on my own and survived. This is nothing." He said dismissively.
I walked over to him. His stormy eyes stalked me, eyeing my every move. He was tall, tall enough that I had to tilt my head up to look at him.
"Nothing?" I asked softly before bringing my hand up and tapping his injured shoulder lightly.
He flinched away from me and let out a hiss of pain. I gave him a pointed look.
"Ask someone to help you," I repeated.
"I can't" His voice was hard.
I eyed him warily. "You can't or you won't?"
His jaw clenched. "I can't trust anyone enough to let them into my house."
I looked at him with a baffled expression. "No one?" I sputtered.
One of his eyes twitched. "Well there's Warren but I doubt he can be of any help. He'll probably just make it worse, I'm better off with one good arm."
"You say you can't trust anyone enough to allow them in your house yet you told me I could stay with you an hour after we met." I raised an eyebrow in question.
"That was different, you had nowhere to go and I felt sorry for you." His response was flat.
Ouch.
I tried to ignore the sting to my pride.
"Well, you allowed me into your house, does that mean you trust me?"
His expression became guarded. "Trust is not something I give away easily. The answer to your question is no, I do not trust you. I don't even know you." Suddenly he leaned forward, invading my personal space. My breath hitched. "But here's the thing, last night you found me when I was most vulnerable, I was weak, injured, and you could easily have taken advantage of the situation but you chose to help me. I even passed out at one point, you could have slit my throat if you wanted to. You could have stolen something valuable, hell I wouldn't even have held it against you if you did, you clearly need the money. But you chose to help me, a stranger. I can't figure out why." His good arm reached out as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"I was a stranger and you chose to help me too," I whispered.
His expression hardened. "That was different. You were brought to that godforsaken place against your will by a man who works for me. I owed you."
I cleared my throat and took a step away from him so I could breathe.
"You know, maybe we could help each other out?" I finally managed to speak.
He raised his eyebrows. "I'm listening."
"I need a place to stay for a while and you need someone to help you around the house until you heal. I'm willing to work for you if you're willing to compensate it in place of rent. Hopefully, by the time you heal, I'll have something figured out, somewhere to go."
His expression darkened. "When I told you that I didn't want anything from you in return I meant it."
I nodded. "I know you did. But this is something I want. And if you're not comfortable with it, I understand. If you tell me no, I will respect that, I will thank you and leave."
I could see the indecisiveness churning in his eyes. "Why would you want to help me?"
"I'm almost tempted to pretend that I want to do this because I'm a good person but the truth is I need a place to stay and you know that I don't have the money. If I don't do anything and just stay in your house that would put me in your debt, and honestly, I don't trust you enough to be in your debt."
His expression remained blank.
"So should I thank you and leave or do we have an agreement?" Even I was impressed by how firm my voice sounded.
For a moment he didn't respond but then his lips twisted into that tantalizing smirk.
"I guess we have an agreement."