The Mafia's Grace

Grace

My feet carried me quickly through the dark alley leading towards my apartment. The soft chatter of drunk men echoed through the emptiness along with the smashing of beer bottles.

I stilled slightly at the sound of footsteps. Whoever they belonged to was running, fast. I didn't have time to react when a large body collided with mine. My feet slipped on the wet concrete and we toppled to the floor with a grunt. I shoved the man off of me and jumped to my feet. My hands were wet and sticky. I brought them closer to my face to see better. Blood. My hands were coated in thick blood. I peered down at the man on the floor who grimaced as he sat up.

"You're bleeding." My voice was soft as his eyes connected with mine. I knew those eyes.

"No shit." He grumbled out as he hauled himself to his feet, swaying slightly. I quickly grabbed his arm to keep him steady. As soon as I did he yanked it out of my grasp.

"My apartment is just up those stairs. Let me help you out." He went to protest but I tugged his large figure up the stairs. Looking the way he did I knew he stood no chance of beating me in a fight, so there is no risk in helping him. It felt like forever by the time we got up the stairs. He was so slow but refused my help.

As soon as we stepped into the apartment I flicked on the lights and turned to see just what this man looked like. Let me tell you I was not disappointed. He was well-muscled and very tall. His eyes were so dark they could've been black and his brown hair was shorter on the sides and quite messy, I am guessing from the running. But what stood out were his tattoos. They laced his arms, reaching right down to his fingers. Then appear again at the collar of his shirt and stopping just on his collarbone. He was devilishly handsome.

"Are you done?" His angry voice snapped me out of my trance as he glared down at me. I didn't reply out of sheer embarrassment.

I walked into the kitchen and pointed at a stall he could sit on. "May I?" I asked as I motioned towards his white blood-soaked shirt. He grunted in response as I gently lifted the shirt, revealing a well-defined six-pack and a huge gash, clearly from a knife of some sort. Blood seeped out of the wound and dripped onto my floor. I quickly grabbed my first-aid kit and asked him to take his shirt off. For better access of course.

His eyes burned into my face as I slowly cleaned the cut. It was deep and would require stitches. I have had some practice so felt confident as I pulled out a large sewing needle. I looked up at him about to ask for permission when he simply nods. My hands are steady as I neatly stitch the skin back together. The mystery man winces now and then but doesn't tell me to stop. After 10 long minutes, I bandage my handwork and step back. He tugs his shirt back over his head and stands.

"Thanks." That's all he says as he walks towards the door.

"Wait! Who are you and what the hell happened to you?" He stopped abruptly and turned his head to look at me. His eyes were full of pure rage.

"That's none of your business." He snaps and quickly leaves my apartment.

I am left in the middle of the apartment in complete shock. I just helped this guy out and he dares to talk to me like that. I yank my door open and run down that stairs. My anger bubbling in me. I stop when I reach the alley. Looking each way for him. But no sign of him. It is so dark I can hardly see 5 feet in front of me. I huff in annoyance and make my way back up the stairs.

Once I have locked and deadbolted my door I begin to tidy up the mess. Blood-covered gauzes lay on the kitchen sides and the floor. Along with a small puddle of blood. I quickly dispose of everything and wiped down the floor and side. Careful to make sure there is no blood left at all.

By the time I am done scrubbing the blood off of the old floor my back aches and my knees hurt. I have had a long day and just want to get some sleep. My anger hadn't disappeared yet but I decided to pretend that never happened and just go to bed. It's not like I am ever going to see him again.

I have a quick shower and leave my hair to air dry. I then clamber into my small bed and wait for sleep to come. It takes a while but when I do finally fall asleep I am plagued by nightmares. They vary every night. A constant reminder that my past is always a short sleep away.