Stitched Up Hearts (Alucard X Fem! reader)

Bloodstained Stone

Alucard's POV (Six years prior) 

My eyes narrowed at the floor, inspecting a curious dark spot on the stone. The hallways were lit with torches, but not enough to see it very well. Hesitant, I touched the spot with my finger, holding it up to the light. Blood dripped down my finger, making my own go cold. It was still warm, despite how cold the stone was, it was fresh blood. Shivers trail down my spine, heart dropping into my shoes.

The hallway was forked into three directions, the one I came down intersecting the other. A trail of blood snaked down both directions. My heartbeat in my ears, trying to stay calm and be rational. I went left, the direction that led towards the baths. If someone was injured they would head there first, trying to clean the wound. My rushed footsteps pounded down the hallway, mind racing a mile a minute to decipher what could have injured them so badly it would bleed this much. I prayed more than anything, as cruel it was, that it was my father. He knew what to do best when injured, and he healed much faster than any of the rest of us.

More blood has dripped onto the floor the longer I jog down the hallway, becoming trails as if someone had poured cups of water on the ground while they walked. This is the right direction. Light from the bathroom spills into the hall from the open door, but the water isn't running. Barging through the door my heart nearly stops at the sight in front of me, my breath catches in my throat.

Y/N is curled in the middle of the floor, her breathing ragged and labored, body shaking more than I've ever seen it. The noises that leave her are like nothing I've ever heard before, she wimpers like a wounded animal. Her hair and face are streaked with blood, her hands covered in the substance, making her appear to be wearing red gloves. More red blood spills all over her clothes, spreading through the fibers like a virus. It's dripped and splashed across the floor, on the bathtub and most noticeably from her stomach and legs. 

"Adrian?" her voice was nothing more than a hoarse whimper, trembling just like the rest of her. She didn't look at me, I didn't know if she could tell it was me by the footfalls or because she hoped it was me. Now that I'm close I see how flushed her face is, practically dripping with sweat that mixes with the smeared blood. She must have a fever.

"Y/N!" I tumble to her side, trying to inspect the damage. It seems the flesh across her rib cage has been torn open, the skin of her thighs ripped under the shredded skirt. The cuts are so deep I wonder how she isn't incapacitated by the pain. A few inches deeper and her organs would have been spilled across the floor the same as her blood. "Come on, I'm taking you to the labrato-"

"No." she refuses, her hands grasping at the shreds of her dress, trying to apply pressure to the wound with her arms. At least she had the sense to do that. Her forehead was pressed to the stone, her jaw clenched so hard I thought she might crack a molar. "Don't- don't touch me." she groaned out, words hard to decipher as she spoke through her teeth.

"Don't be an idiot, your injuries-" I make another move to help her up only for my hands to be forced away from her with a pained grunt. "You're going to make it worse getting excited like that." I tried to speak gently, but her stubbornness was trying my patience. Couldn't she see she needed help? "At least let me check your wounds."

"No!" she says, even firmer this time, despite being mixed in with a pained cry. My heart shatters watching her be in so much pain, and not being able to do anything from her own request. My hands twitch, desperately searching for anything they can do to put a stop to her anguish. "It's fine. I can handle this on my own. Don't." she clutches harder at the cloth on her body, willing for it to stay on. Even injured and bleeding she still manages to be obstinate. I don't for the life of me understand why she would rather bleed to death than accept our help.