Chronical Wounds

Chapter 9: Shall we begin?

I opened my eyes slowly. I looked around me to take in my surroundings. I felt the fabric in between my fingers and didn't recognize it as mine. Memories from how I got in this bed flashed through my mind. "Shit" I groaned while hiding my face in my hands. I remember how I stiffened when Kyle started yelling at me. And how Zain helped me out. I also remember how Kyle had actually warned me about Zain. But of all the things I remembered, the most disturbing was what I told Zain before I fell asleep. 'You're a great guy'. "Eww!" I thought out loud while covering my face in embarrassment.

After a moment, I scanned the room I was in. The room had long black curtains covering half of the ceiling-to-floor window. The king-sized bed I was in was covered in dark grey sheets. The bed was placed against the center of a large wall. A big picture of a bloodied lion was just above the bed frame. The room was so cold and dark, and yet I actually liked it. The soft, white carpet which touched my bare toes as I sat up, gave the room a slightly cozier vibe.

I made the bed before I searched for a bathroom to freshen up. It didn't take long to find it since the door I sought was across the room. I noticed there were multiple toothbrushes, while I just expected there to be one. I opened a dresser and saw shampoos, combs, and a small pink bag with glitter. Did a woman live with him? Maybe he had a girlfriend or was married. But I had slept in his bed. A girlfriend wouldn't accept that, right? I quickly brushed my hair and freshened up.

I was startled when my phone suddenly rang. Only now did I realize how quiet the house was. The sound came from my bag, which was neatly placed next to my shoes. When I picked my phone up, I read 'unknown number'. I answered the call and listened like I usually do when an unknown number calls. "I'm waiting in the car to drop you off. Get ready." The husky voice of Zain sent shivers down my spine. For a brief moment, I forgot how to use words. After scraping my throat, I replied, "I'll be there in a minute." Nothing else was said, and the call was ended.

Only now did I realize that Zain's voice sounded weird. It reminded me of the first time we talked in the hospital. Maybe he was just mad at me for staying over. No, he was probably mad about yesterday. Actually, he could be mad about a lot of things right now. My anxiety crept up as different reasons raced through my mind. I didn't have time to overthink now, I told myself. I had to grab my stuff and get downstairs, quickly.

I hurried to the car and slipped into the passenger seat. "Good morning," I breathed while I put my seatbelt on. When I heard it click in but didn't hear a response, I looked up. Zain didn't acknowledge my presence. I noticed a drop roll down his temple. I scanned him further and noticed blood running down his arm, dripping on his black T-shirt. But my biggest worry was the gash in his upper arm. "What happened to you?" I asked softly. Scared that my tone would hurt him more. His grip on the wheel tightened. Zain didn't respond, though. His eyes stayed on the road. His right hand was trembling on the switch.

I accepted that he wouldn't talk. What else did I expect of him? So, I decided not to talk either. I felt the need to help him, though. He was already sweating, which could mean that he was in a lot of pain or that his wound was infected, or maybe both. I kept scanning, and calculating his body language as we drove off. It felt as if I was solving a mathematical equation. I reached to separate the bloodied shirt from the wound to have a better view when he growled "Do not touch me." " I can fix it up. You need to get that cleaned." I explained. "No shit, Sherlock," Zain hissed back. I slowly sat back and looked out the window.

My instinct wanted to help, but I quickly got reminded that I shouldn't care about this guy. That I should not help him. "What did you get yourself into?! Are you crazy, Farah?! Do you have a death wish or something? What is Zain Cain to you? Answer me!" Kyle's words crashed back. He was right last night. This was not the first time I had found him wounded. I was curious as to why he always was hurt. His family ran a clean business, as far as I know. I didn't notice anything odd while getting to know them. They also don't have bodyguards like people have in movies. They do have a lot of cameras at the family mansion, but if I'd have as much money as them I would get cameras too.

As we arrived at my house, the car came to a halt. When I didn't move, Zain turned to look at me. I did the same thing and looked in his eyes, without saying a word. I wanted to say something mean. I wanted to tell him to stay away from me, whenever he could. He was no good, and I knew that now. But when I looked into his dark green eyes, I realized that he didn't have a spark of emotion in them. Which stupidly sparked my interest. Did he really hate me so much that he was looking at me that way?

For a moment I forgot that we were staring at each other and so I shifted before saying "I know that you don't need me, but I'm working for your family, and it's my job to help where I can. Whenever you want or need my help, you know where to find me." Zain looked away and didn't respond. I immediately regretted even saying a word. My cheeks felt hot, unsure if it was because I was getting angry or awkward. I looked at him once again, and even though we were not even close to being friends, it hurt me to see him wounded and closed off. At this point, it could've been my own ego, but my intrusive thoughts won, and I did the one thing that any person in the right mind wouldn't do. I snatched his car keys and jumped out of the car. Zain tried to grab me, but I slipped through his fingers. He hissed in pain and growled in frustration before he marched after me to my house. I quickly opened the door and hurried inside.

I left the door open. He took one step inside. "Farah! Give me my keys back now! Don't test my damn patience. I don't have time for this." he yelled after me, but I gave no response. "I also don't have the strength" I almost didn't hear him whisper. He looked around and saw the kitchen to the left, but I wasn't there. I ran to my room upstairs to change into a more comfortable sweatsuit, which I had already laid on my bed the day before. "Farah, I don't want to play hide and seek, come on." he tried once again. With a loud sigh, I heard him close the door. Within no time I was downstairs again. He stood by the door. He was scanning the room. To the right, he saw an open living room with a bench and two similar chairs facing the smart TV. Next to the front door were the stairs that led upstairs. On the left was a small kitchen. On the kitchen island stood a roll of paper towels. He walked over and took the paper towels, made it wet under the tap, and started cleaning up around the wound. He looked up at me with an annoyed look. I was holding a first aid kit, a towel, and a round cookie tray. "Give me my keys back, now." He demanded, but I ignored his attitude and walked straight towards him. Zain furrowed as I came closer. Without saying a word, I grab his upper left arm with my free hand. I tried to drag him along, but he didn't give in and just looked at me with an even more annoyed look. "I've hidden your key somewhere in this house, and even though it's not as big as yours, I can guarantee you won't find it. So you better let me help you or you'll be here for a while." I hiss back. "I really don't like you." Zain grunts, and I scoff "Tell me something I don't know.".

I let go of his arm and walk to the living room, while Zain follows behind. I place everything on the table in front of the chairs and bench. I place the towel on the closest chair and ask him to sit. Zain looks down at me, and for the first time, I notice that I don't even reach his shoulder. He was probably contemplating whether to take me seriously or not. I frown at him, which he responds to with a scoff. Zain sits down and starts watching me carefully as I clear the table and place all the necessary tools in a row. I quickly walk to the kitchen and open some cabinets and the fridge. When I come back, I pour a drink and hand it to Zain, which he cautiously accepts. I kneel down and continue to make everything ready.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" I asked while I poured medical alcohol into a bowl. "No." he answers back with an annoyed tone. Without looking up, I say "I figured you'd say that, but I need you to talk to me while I help you or I'll put on some music, and you'll be tortured twice at the same time." Zain visibly tries to hold himself from grinning but fails. "Who says it'll be torture?" he asked. I smiled as I looked up at him, and Zain's grin slowly disappeared. "Can you squeeze my hand?" I ask, and he frowns in return, but after I was holding my hand up for a few seconds, he seemed to realize I was serious. He squeezed my hand, but he couldn't manage to squeeze hard. "I don't think you've noticed, but you're sweating, and your hand is still trembling while the other one isn't. Also, you can't squeeze my hand hard, which means that your muscle is most definitely damaged. I assume that your muscle is slightly torn. The wound should be pretty deep. So, yes. It will be torture." My voice is calm as if I'm explaining how to tie shoelaces. Zain stared deep into my eyes. His eyes seemed to be lost for a moment. Then he brought the cup in his hand to his lips and drank it all at once. He places the cup on the table. "Thanks for the heads up, doc. Now shall we begin?" he asked suddenly bored. "Yes. We shall." I mock back while rolling my eyes.