If You Don't (Fyodor X OC)

You Are Innocent

"𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚞𝚖.. 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠? 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢. 𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fyodor forced me to follow him up the stairs. When i stumbled, or my limbs gave out, hed just hold me up by my wrists and not give me the chance to succumb to my body's weakness. It was almost cruel with the way he forced my body to operate when it wanted nothing more than to crumble to ash.

I thought he was going to take me to my room, but he passed that door as he drug me along. He instead brought me to the door next to mine, opening it for me. I didnt get to observe his room for the fact that it was both dark, and he didnt give me time. He instead led me to a room off to the side.

He flicked on the lights and I saw that it was a bathroom. There was a marble staircase leading up to a bathtub, and he walked me over to it. He finally let me sit down on the top step that flattened out into a border around the tub, and he turned the knobs. He tweaked them a few times before he let it be to run, sitting down next to me.

"I can not have you tracking blood all over my home, and I need to address your injuries," He explained with a heavy sigh. I couldnt tell if he was being an ass, or if this way his way of pushing me to let him help me. Truth was, it seemed like all he was trying to do was help since I got here, and here I was - fighting him every step of the way.

"If you'd prefer, I can have Ivan do this part. Im sorry that I cannot offer you the aid from a woman," He said with a soft tone.

"It doesnt matter," my voice was dry and raspy from all the screaming. Any other day, i would be fighting him. I would be appalled at the idea of even letting him see my injuries. Today, though... I was numb. I was emotionally obliterated to a point where everything else was on auto pilot. Somebody could offer me a brand new piano and I wouldnt even bat an eye.

The tub had filled itself up and Fyodor turned the water off. He hesitated for a moment, staring at me with a look that told me he didnt quite know how to go about any of this. I couldnt even help him in my sorry state. This would probably be embarrassing after I come out of it.

"You need to remove your dress," he said anxiously. I could tell that he was trying his best not to be inappropriate, or make me feel any more uncomfortable than I already was.

I appreciated the sentiment, even if it was only the most minuscule amount, and in turn I slid my dress up. I tried to pull it up over my head, but my injured shoulder wouldn't let me. I whined when the cut tore itself back open as my skin stretched.

Fyodor noticed, helping me slide it the rest of the way. It fell to the floor with the noise of a wet mop, and I brought my hands behind my back. I started prying at the clasp of my bra. He too, stripped down to just his boxers and his shirt.

"No that's okay. You may keep that on," he stopped me and grabbed one of my hands, luring me into the tub. He was careful with his movements. He was slow, and much less forceful than when he tore me off the beach. The tub was very large, easily fitting the two of us without having to invade each others personal space.

The water was the perfect temperature, but it still burned as it seeped into the fresh cuts and scrapes along my skin. I could see the stream of blood in the water, pooling out until it faded away.

Fyodor grabbed a rag that was folded neatly on a stack next to the tub, getting it wet before gently placing it against the injury to my shoulder. As soon as it touched my skin, I instinctively jumped.