Beastly • H.S

~Four~

Not edited

I stare at the man in the vexatious hospital bed that I'm sure supports little to no comfort at all. The bed is inclined at an angle where he's in a slight sitting position, making his lengthy hair cascade over his broad shoulders. His eyebrows are woven together faintly, causing minor wrinkles to form on his forehead. His bottom lip, having a deep gash on it, is covered in dry, crusty blood. The dark, purplish bruise that covers his whole right eyes makes a frown set on my lips.

If it weren't for Stan, neither this man nor I would be here in a hospital. The nurse told us that she couldn't give him anything until he's fully awoken, which shouldn't be too long from now. She gave us a room to sit in and wait for her to come back.

This place has very uncomfortable chairs, and sitting in one for thirty-five minutes isn't helping my bottem one bit. Stan, on the other hand, seems like he's enjoying them though, since he's passed out on the opposite side of the room to me. Soft snores erupting from his mouth every few seconds. I know he feels bad for doing what he had done to this man, he's never, that I know of, gotten into a fight with someone. I guess the alcohol got to him.

The man on the bed stirs, moving his head and making a pained face in the process. His eyes open in thin slits, adjusting to the lighting of the room before opening them enough to see well.

I stay still in my chair, that's literally not even three feet away from the guy, and hold my breath as his eyes land on me. His eyes merely widen at me before he takes a confused second glance at his suroundings.

Now that he's awake, I can't help but be scared some. I don't know him, and there's no telling what he will do.

He sees Stan asleep in the other chair and I can see his jaw clench and his hands start to coil into fist. Does he know that Stans the one who punched him?

I quickly clear my throat and his head snaps to me again, but before I get the chance to talk, his deep voice rumbles throughout the room.

"Why did you bring me here?"

I blink and look at stan, still dozed off in a dream, then back at the man whose attention is set on me.

"You needed help," I say quietly, looking down at the floor from his intense glare.

"No I didn't" he says flatly.

"How would you know, you were knocked out cold." I looked at him. He raises his brows at me and I gulp. I take the chance to look at his face again, the designs and scars that are blended together in his skin makes him seem so dark.

"You can leave now, along with your friend..." He speaks, his voice showing no emotion.

"Why do you have these?" I ask bravely, reaching my arm out to touch his inked hand.

When my fingers graze his warm hand it feels like someone shocked me, making me gasp lightly and for him to pull his hand away from underneath mine.

"It's none of your concern," he tells me, putting his hands under the blanket and turning his face away fe me to avoid eye contact. He's insecure about his looks, I can tell.

"I like them," I say sadly with a small smile and I hear him laugh bitterly turning his head towards me.

"You like them?" He reapeats my statement rudely, causing me to onyl nod. "You don't like them," he tells me.

"And how do you know that?" I ask him expectantly.

"No one does, who would?" He asks curtly

"Then why would you do this to yourself if you're so insecure about it...?" I frown.