Mister Arlington

16

I had seen my mother patch up wounds for my father enough to know the basics, but having Mister Arlington walk me through it made the situation less frightening.

"Right then, clean the area before you disinfect the wound."

Hesitantly, I brought the damp cloth down onto his skin, rubbing over the dips of his abs. I was careful to avoid any physical contact between our skin or letting my hand linger too long. I bit the inside of my cheek so that I could focus on the pain more than the perfect image of his body or the fact that this was the first time I was touching someone of the opposite gender like this, and most likely the last too.

Once I had cleaned the area of blood I was able to see the wound more clearly. It had clearly been a bullet, one that wasn't stuck inside his body, luckily.

I grabbed the bottle of whiskey handing it over to Mister Arlington. He took it without a word, taking a long swig from it before handing it to me with a small grunt. I didn't count to three or give him a chance to even think, instead, after receiving the bottle I immediately poured some onto the wound, not too much, since this was a good bottle of whiskey.

He hissed, clutching onto the edge of the counter. I stepped back as a precaution, suddenly remembering how my father used to slap my mother when there was an awful amount of pain, blaming her for something that was inevitable to avoid with such a wound.

"Carry on," he grumbled, staring at me with a gaze that would freeze me in place by fear... had I not known worse than I stale gaze.

I stepped forward, applying another shot of alcohol on his wound before grabbing a sterilised needle and threading the wire through as best as I could while Mister Arlington was trying to stiffle his groaning.

I let out a soft sigh when my fumbling with the needle ceased and I tied it off before hesitantly pinching Mister Arlingtons skin and pushing the needle through his flesh. As I continued on I repeated to myself that it was just like sewing, over and over again until I was finished repairing the first wound.

I turned to him as I cut the wire off from the needle, he nodded in approval before sitting up with a grunt, slipping off of the counter before turning his back to me.

"Pass me the bottle," he more demanded than asked for not a moment after I poured alcohol on the other side of the wound. Regardless of his mannerism, I passed the bottle and stitched his wound as he took swig after swig. Even after I was done and he had muttered a good job to me, he continued to drink from the glass bottle.

It was only when I returned to the kitchen from putting away all the equipment did I walk up to Mister Arlington and place hand on the bottle, my skin lightly kissing his in the process.

He scoffed, turning his head but gave the bottle up to me.

"Alright then, I suppose I should thank you for your help," he said, nonchalantly. Nevertheless, I curtsied. "Well, I'm going to rest now."

He stepped forward, swaying from left to right. I jerked my arms out, assuming he was going to fall, instead Mister Arlington scowled, swatting my hands away.

"I'm not a babe, I can walk to my own room."

I sighed, hesitantly stepping back as I watched him walk towards and then up the stairs from a safe distance behind, until he disappeared around the corner.

Just as I was turning my back to the staircase, there was a commotion of loud banging from upstairs, as if Mister Arlington had fallen along with some furniture.

Suddenly forgetting about the rules I raced upstairs, turning the corner to find Mister Arlington slowly lifting himself off the ground, surrounded by a shattered plant pot and a drawer as he cursed.

I rushed over to him, trying to help lift his muscled body by his right arm. He didn't protest as I helped him, instead once he was on his feet he pointed to a door, which I assumed led to his room. With slow steps we walked inside his bedroom.

I hadn't known what to expect when entering his room, but the clean and desolate looking room wasn't what I had thought. From the state he has been in for the past few days I suppose I expected the room to resemble him... Messy but still kept.

There was a king sized bed pushed to the centre of the right wall with black covers, next to it was a small mahogany nightstand. In the left corner of the room, nearest to the door was a black office lamp that hung over a mahogany study desk that held neat stacks of folders, a black plush chair tucked underneath the desk.

He sure does like the colour black.

I turned my attention back to Mister Arlington, helping him towards his bed where I pulled back his covers and sat him on his bed, allowing him to tuck himself into bed.

I started towards the open windows as a light breeze drifted in, blowing the thin white curtains that framed the structure.

"No, leave them opened," Mister Arlington informed, now laying in bed with his covers pushed to the side.

I stood awkwardly beside his bed, waiting for any other inquiries of his with my hands clasped in front of me.

In the silence I was able to wonder where and why he had been wounded in such a way. None of my thoughts led to a reasonable explanation or an explanation that I didn't want to think of.

Who was I working for? Was the question I was left with.

"You can leave, you've done enough for tonight."

I gave a curt nod and a curtsy before leaving with a soft click of the door. Once I was in the hallway I let out a deep sigh before gathering what was left of my energy to clean up the mess he had made, both up and downstairs.

By the time I was back in my room I was exhausted. The adrenaline in my system long diminished. I dropped onto my bed, my eyelids simultaneously closing. They didn't open again as I immediately drifted into a dark dreamless sleep.