Perilous Flames [clifford a.u]

chapter twelve - warm touch

       CHAPTER TWELVE - WARM TOUCH

        We both stumbled into our room, nearly tripping on the carpeted floor. Michael quickly went over to shut the door and I turned to flick on the lights on the wall next to it. The room immediately flooded with light and I dropped to the floor to sit down, shivering and panting heavily. 

        Michael slumped against the door for a second, before he moved forward with a grunt. He cradled his right hand to his chest and he walked with a limp toward his bed. 

        Both of us had drove as fast as we could away from the bar and on the way, we happened to see an ambulance truck and police car speed by the other way. Fearing that the police car had come for us, he accelerated the car toward the inn and we found ourselves barreling to the elevator of the inn and toward our room. 

        My backs legs and the lower of my back stung and I was sure that Michael was equally as injured, or even more. Michael took a seat at the end of his bed and let out a slow shaky breath. His bright eyes from before had disappeared, and he was back to normal, but more exhausted than ever. Or so he looked. 

        Michael ran his other hand through his green hair, causing it to stick up all around his head. He looked toward me, sweat rolling down the side of his face. That's when I saw the injury he had on his face and I drew in a sharp breath. 

        A long gash was cut across his right cheek, the wound open and red, but not bleeding. "Your cheek," I whispered. The cut probably happened when the bottle was smashed into the side of his face. Thank God it hadn't been hit on top of his head.

        Michael's eyebrows drew together and he immediately stood up and rushed over to the mirror hanging on the wall. His mouth opened in disbelief when he saw the cut. He reached up, brushing his fingers against it, and immediately hissed in pain. 

        "Don't touch it!" I shouted and got up from the floor and made my way over to him. 

        He turned to look at me, and instantly I regretted shouting at him, for there was a soft worried look in his pale green eyes. "Your bleeding," he murmured. 

        "And so are you," I said back. I knew that I had bad injuries too. I was aware that I did fall on several shards of glass in the bar. And from the warm dampness I felt on my back and the back of my legs, I knew that I was hurt pretty bad. However, I wasn't the one who got into a bad fight and fell on glass and broken tables. "Did you bring in the med-kit?" I asked, referring to the emergency medical kit Michael had kept in the backpack he had took everywhere with him.

        I moved toward his bag that laid on the side of the bed to look for the med-kit, when Michael immediately spoke up, stopping me. "Aiden no, look." His voice sounded urgent. 

        I glanced at him and he beckoned his head toward the place where I previously sat. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the wall I sat against was smeared with blood. And it was a lot. 

        My mouth opened and by instinct, my hand reached around my back to feel the cuts I had and I let out a gasp at the sharp pain. "Don't touch it." Michael's hand enclosed around my wrist, his voice tight with worry and somewhat guilt. 

        As I began to turn around to face him, he was already releasing his hold on me and was searching for the kit at the side of his bed. After a couple moments of shuffling through a couple of things, he pulled out a medium sized emergency medical kit. He took a seat at the edge of the bed and opened the kit. He then looked to me. "Come on, we have to get you cleaned up."