Of Paradoxes and Feuds

Chapter Thirteen

     "Truce."

     As soon as the agreement leaves her lips, Amelie can feel the disappointment from the Leader. She grew up being taught to honor her words, so willingly accepting a truce means that she wouldn't be able to get rid of Kyle.

     Fool, she can hear the Leader say, his grating voice against the sharp burn of the acid-coated blade against her skin, slicing and tearing her apart before he rebuilds her the way he wants her to be. A perfect heiress capable of leading the Asphodels. Cold. Calculating. Lethal. Brainless moron.

     Not this idiotic donkey that doesn't know the power of her own words. No better than a piece of furniture to be sat on.

     How utterly pathetic of you, Amelie silently chides herself as Kyle tosses a bottle of some medicine at her.

     "Antiseptic." Kyle says, turning his back on her and looking through the contents of the first aid kit Amelie found in his drawer.

     Amelie dabs some of it onto the small cut on her arm. Where it came from, she doesn't even know. The familiar sting hits her, then fades away slowly as she puts a plaster on it.

     Kyle, meanwhile, watches her silently, until Amelie speaks up. "Your bleeding." She directs a pointed glance to the blood dripping down his leg from the bullet graze. The said bullet is currently embedded into Kyle's wall, a few cracks spreading from where it struck.

     "I noticed." Kyle deadpans. Amelie says nothing, blinking once at him.

     "So you're not going to treat it?" She finally breaks the silence.

     Kyle's gaze drops to her hand still clutching the bottle. "I am, but in case you haven't noticed, the antiseptic's still with you."

     Amelie mutters something under her breath before tossing him the bottle. Kyle catches it, and stumbles backwards onto his table. The wound reopens and blood gushes out, crimson and making the room reek of the metallic smell Amelie recognizes.

     Some assassin. Can't even handle a thigh graze.

     Amelie watches awkwardly as Kyle tends to his own wound, hissing at the sight of his blood staining the carpet. "Quit staring at me, you're making me uncomfortable." He says, reaching for the first aid kit, but instead falls face first into his bed with a muffled thump.

     Amelie sighs, rolling her sleeves up and picks up the roll of bandages. She crouches next to him, and he stiffens, shifting away slightly.

     "You aren't planning to strangle me with those, are you?" Kyle asks, watching as she unknots out the string binding the roll.

     "If I was, I wouldn't be kneeling here, would I?" Amelie rolls her eyes. She finally picks out the last knot, and examines the wound she created. A straight line, deep and red. Looks like her aim wasn't so bad after all.

     "Can you stop examining your marksmanship and just pass me the bandages?" Kyle sighs in annoyance, hand sticking out expectantly.

     "You'll need stitches; the bullet got you pretty deep. Or I could use the stapler and spare you pain." Amelie continues rambling, ignoring Kyle's outstretched hand.

     "The-" He cuts himself off with a coughing fit. "Amelie Black helping me? That's unexpected."

     "You've barely met me."

     "And they say eyes are the windows to the soul. You have very unique eyes, did anyone tell you?" Kyle crosses his arms, watching as Amelie searches the first aid kit.

     "Alright: Suturing or stapling? Don't make me choose or you'll suffer."

     "Neither, really."

     "Suturing it is, then." Amelie says, picking up the long needle.

     "No!" Kyle protests, scooting away from her and picking up his pillow to shield himself from her. "I hate needles!" He blurts out, before covering his mouth with a hand, muttering curses.

     Amelie lifts up a brow, before setting down the needle. Kyle's face had turned slightly pale at the sight of the needle, and Amelie wonders if he has a phobia of needles. "Then, stapling?" She lifts up the skin stapler in question.

     "No!" Kyle yells, voice rising in tone.

     "You're going to get an infection the longer that wound stays open!" Amelie exclaims in exasperation. "Final chance: needle or staple? I'll knock you unconscious and close that wound myself if I have to."

     "I don't want either." Kyle mutters, poking his pillow. Amelie rolls her eyes sharply, and picks up the needle, swiping at it with a patch of rubbing alcohol.

     I don't want to live here either, but we can thank our dear Leader for that. She thinks, swiping the cloth across the needle multiple times in an attempt to clean it as much as possible. She then grabs the antiseptic and sits down next to Kyle.

     "This is going to hurt," Amelie warns him as she threads the needle. She grabs the bottle of water and dabs a cotton pad with it, swiping at the wound as lightly as she can to clean it.

     "How nice of you to-AGH!" Kyle screams as Amelie stabs the needle into him, threading as quickly as she could without touching anywhere else. She works silently, eyes trained on the needle as it weaves in and out.

     Kyle on the other hand, crushes his poor pillow in agony, trying to hold back his flinch each time the needle goes through him. To describe it lightly, it feels like his leg is getting run over by pikes. The blood oozing out doesn't help the scene either.

     Amelie focuses on the task at hand rather than Kyle's occasional uncontrolled scream. She keeps her eyes trained on the needle emerging from the skin, watching it turn bloody from the puncture before the thread sews it shut.

     "I really have the most caring roommate, don't I?" Kyle mutters as Amelie finishes, tying up the end of the thread and snipping it off. The bloody needle she dunks into the bottle of water.

     "Thank me later." Amelie says, getting up to leave.

     "Don't you want to know why I called a truce?"

     Amelie whirls around, prepared for any attack Kyle might throw her way, but he's sprawled out on his bed, eyes half shut. Grabbing a chair, she sits near him, but still out of arm's reach should he attempt to try anything.

     "Pray tell."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Not me rushing this chapter because I forgot today was tuesday. Yikes. I really forgot about this story over the weekend💀🔫

AnywayS, forgive my inability to write lovey-dovey stuff; I'm not used to it. Clearly. I mean the amount of times I had a chance to take things there and I just ✨swerved✨. Ah avoidance, a lovely thing, really.

Thanks for reading, and don't forget to vote, comment and share! (One of these days I'm gonna accidentally type 'subscribe' and not notice I swear...)

~(Amnesic) Kristal .-.