The Code To A Don's Heart

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P E A C H     M C C O Y — T H E     H A C K E R

I woke up with the taste stale alcohol on my tongue and the worst headache ever. My head pounded to the beat of my heart and all the aching muscles in my face, back, abdomen and thigh followed in suit. It took a lot of energy to sit up, my muscles pulling in protest. There was also a dead weight on my shoulder. I turned to find a large tattooed arm wrapped around me.

I looked up into Viktor's face. His eyes were closed and the most peaceful expression rested on his face. This close, I could tell there were a few freckles littered on the apex of his cheeks and a few on his forehead that was hidden under that messy mop of blonde hair. He should probably get his hair cut. Maybe he was growing it out?

I gently extracted myself from him. I sat at the edge of the bed and stretched out my bad leg, massaging it a bit. I stood and tried to apply pressure to my foot. That wasn't so bad. I could walk but there was a slight limp to my step. I made sure not to overdo it such that my stitches stayed intact.

Speaking of stitches, the memories of last night rushed back but they were fuzzy, especially after Viktor made me drink the vodka. I remembered the pain though and the crying. A lump of emotion rose to my throat and I couldn't even decipher what it was. Shame, regret... those two and some more. Jesus I couldn't believe I cried.

I opened my bag and got out my last set of clothes. The rest were at Kat's. She was helping me get them cleaned and I sort of burnt the place down. I retreated to the bathroom and stripped out of the old bloody clothes, stuffing them in the bin that was placed under the sink. The bathroom was small, barely any room to move around but all I needed was the mirror above the sink.

I stared at my swollen eye and knew this wouldn't heal for the next two weeks at least. I turned and stared at my back. Ugly was the only way to describe it. My stomach too was a canvas of dark purples and blacks that ached with each movement I made. What's worse, I was eft with a beige long sleeved cropped top and black leggings. The coat I'd taken from Viktor was probably in ashes at Kat's. Maybe he'd give me the one he'd come with this time. I could only hope.

I wiped down, trying to get as clean as possible. I had to clear up all the flakes of blood on my bronze skin and my mind constantly flashed back to that moment when I got shot. I remembered the loud bang of the gun, the angry voice of my shooter and the fear that was so dense in the air, I remembered how it tasted at the back of my throat. At some point I had to stop cleaning up to breathe. My hands shook and my head spun.

Get a grip Peach.

It was easier said than done. It had always taken me a while to push back the stress that came with shocking events in my life. My mother's death... my father's mistake... my brother's leave... I could get through this as well. I had no choice but to. My life has constantly thrown me obstacles that I know I can dodge.

When I was more composed, I got dressed. I tried to bridge the gap between my top and my leggings to hide the silver of skin that was marred by hideous bruises. The bandage was hard to miss though. It made my thigh seem thicker and abnormally shaped. I really wished I had Viktor's coat.

I got back into the room and I noticed Viktor's new coat discarded on the ground. This was was brown and thicker than the black one. I picked it up and run my hand inside, over the smooth fur like material. After a moment's hesitation, I slipped it on. He won't mind. My nose was hit with his smell. Something very masculine and that new clothes smell.

I rounded the bed to his side and hugged myself. To anyone else, I'd seem like I was crossing my arms. Truth was, I didn't know exactly how we were going to act after last night. I bit down on my dark lip and contemplated, looking at his peaceful and relaxed face.