In My Sister's Shadow (Book 1)

15. Dark Dreams.

Zayn was sitting, well was almost horizontal slouching on the sofa. He relaxed on the sofa manspreading his legs taking up all the space. The television's glare blared into the dull room. Zayn was fixated with his mobile, texting at super speed. I stood by his side hoping to invite his attention, but he was absorbed into his screen.

"Can I?" I waved the bandages trying to communicate with him. "Don't make this hard than it already is. You're going to get an infection."

"I'm not your problem." He munched grabbing handfuls a handful of Doritos and wolfing it down.

I wished it was easy as he said and I could walk away. Instead, I kneeled beside him and placed the items on the floor.

"Go to bed, Zorro." He instructed firmly.

I was stupid for caring, for sitting here beside him at half ten when I had a book waiting for me at my bedside table.

"I'm busy." He ignored me. "Let me be."

Somehow, I hoped, it was easy to stop caring about him, but something always tugged me back to him.

I reached out for his hand which was glued to the screen, but he flung me away.
"For God sake Zorro-" He flung his arm out to send me away but I grabbed his hand in time and took his large coarse hand in my two hands. I was firm and assertive. I wasn't going to let go. I yanked his wrist forcing him to sit up.

"For fuck's sake." Grudgingly, he sat up using his free hand to text and he couldn't eat the Doritos any longer.

Whilst Zayn scrolled through his mobile with his free hand, I unwrapped the bandage. Zayn's hand was rough like wood. Solid. Large. Chapped. His short nails bordered with black dirt. He took little care of himself and somehow this upset me. I took his one large left hand in my two hands and carefully unwrapped his index finger from the grimy dark bandage. His fingers were cut and knuckles grazed. It was a fresh cut, still raw. I drenched the cotton wool in antiseptic and dabbed it harshly on his hand peering at him from the corner of my eye. He hissed. His hand clenched tight around mine.

"Sorry." I whispered. Secretly, pleased I'd gauged a human emotion. Gently I disinfected the area and cleaned the dry blood from his index finger. The cut was deep.

"What happened?"

"Occupational hazard."

Whilst I cleaned his second finger, Zayn texted with his right hand glued to the screen. I found the harshness of Zayn's skin fascinating. His thick set fingers, with grubby long fingernails I wanted to cut his nails and groom him.

"Zara's been quiet and withdrawn all day. She's been like that since the social worker's visit." One by one I changed all his bandages.

Zayn grunted in reply.

"Maybe you can talk to her. Assure her."

"She'll get used to it. It'll toughen her up."

I rolled my eyes at Zayn annoyed with his blasé attitude. Nothing mattered as this moment apart from his mobile.

"Who are you messaging?" I tied the final bandage around his small finger.

Finally, he looked at me. He withdrew his freshly bandaged hand.

"Try to keep your hand dry. It should heal in a day or two."

He held his hand up. "What are you, a nurse?"

He fisted his hands testing the strength of the bandages. At that moment I was close to him, admiring his small stud on his ear lobe, his neck, and strong shoulders. The smell of his shower gel lolled around him. It reminded me of his bed. His pillow.