Definitely, Probably, Maybe

Chapter 8: Sleeping With Bandages

I had finished bandaging Griffin's face and kissing all of his pained wounds that sliced across his facial exterior except for his lips. It just seemed like he needed the extra affection at the moment.

Then it was on to his chest. I started to lift his shirt but his grip around my wrist tightened. My eyes shot to his and he shook his head.

"You're hurt, cut, bruised and probably broken. You need help, Griffin."

"I can help myself." He told me sternly, sitting up and wincing in pain.

"I can help you." I told him insistently.

"No, it's fine. You've done enough." He said with a light smile. No matter how hard he tried to convince me that he was okay, I knew that he wasn't.

"No, I am going to help you."

"No, you aren't." He snarled. "Help yourself." He motioned toward the blood staining my shirt. The excursion of the night must have opened up the abrasion.

Impulsively, I ripped my shirt off, revealing my black and grey sports bra. I stared down at the throbbing cut that burned slightly.

I grabbed the other towel and poured peroxide on it and started to rub at my wound, overlooking the burning feeling of the cut and Griffin's eyes.

I had grabbed a first aid kit from the restroom which I snatched a gauze pad from and applied it to my cut skin and then bandaged it.

Griffin had already gotten to first, second and third base with me, so, in other words I didn't care that he was looking at me half naked. I walked in to the bathroom ignoring his heated glares.

I stared in the mirror at my bra then to the white bandage, making sure it had a firm hold. It had been the longest weekend of my life. I splashed water on my face trying to wake myself then slowly walked out of the restroom then halted in my tracks.

My eyes widened as I watched Griffin pull off his hooded jacket followed by the grey shirt that had been worn on the inside. His back faced me and I could've sworn my heart skipped a beat.

His body was well defined with sun kissed muscles that flexed when he moved his upper body. Every gentle bend, every cleft, every sculptured part of him was perfectly detailed. He was the ideal image of perfection.

Alas, there was something about his skin that shattered my soul, that then burned every piece of my spirit that had been left.

Painful scars sliced across his back. Excruciating rubicund wounds marked his skin. They seemed to be over a year old but it was clear that they once were painfully open and had sadly bled immensely by the looks of the wounded soft tissue. Near the wounds were excruciating burgundy crimson bruises that darkened areas of his back.

It was sadly clear that Griffin had been badly abused.

I walked quietly over the hard wood floor and slid my arms around his strong waist. His body tensed clearly not wanting my arms around him. I laid my head gently on his posterior.

"I am so sorry." I whispered and before I could catch it a hot tear fell from my eye. I watched in silence as it glided hauntingly down his back.

In a swift movement, he turned around to me, letting my hands drop. He stared down at me with confusion lacing his glacier eyes.

"Why are you crying?" He demanded. "Because it is definitely giving me conflicted thoughts." He answered honestly with a smile pulling at his lips.
I couldn't help but smile back at him.

He never missed the opportunity to smile, although, it was clear that traces of anger tainted his sunny essence because I had seen this part of him.