Collecting Polaroids |Slowburn|

Chapter 13

Elliot's POV :)

Something was buzzing. Under my leg. It was vibrating in a pattern. I moved to turn over, feeling uncomfortable, but my head banged into something cool.

"C'est quoi de bordel (what the hell)?" I mumbled, blinking slowly. I opened my eyes to find myself in a small room with... a toilet? I trailed my eyes up to see light seeping in through the window in the shower.

How the hell did I end up in the bathroom?

I looked down to find myself on the counter, dressed in a black hoodie. A moment later, the vibrating started again. I lifted my leg slightly to find a phone face down on the counter.

I furrowed my eyebrows as KitKat 🤡 appeared across the screen. This is definitely not my phone. The screen read 6:23 am.

As I moved to get off the counter, pain erupted in my left shoulder, near my collar bone. I hissed as another pulsating pain began in my lower side.  I gritted my teeth and slowly stood up.

"Putain (fuck)," I hissed as my foot hit something on the floor. My vision could barely make out what was on the floor of the dark bathroom. Turning on the light, my eyes nearly popped out of my head when I noticed someone laying on the ground. Brown locks were spread on the floor, a beige blanket thrown over their figure.

I suddenly realized who it was. Isla was curled up on the floor of the bathroom, fast asleep. And I was in her bathroom. And that was her phone ringing.

I stared at her sleeping figure, wondering how the fuck she ended up on the floor. Why didn't she just sleep in her win bed literally 2 meters away??

Sighing, I knelt down and gently pulled the blankets off of her. She mumbled something and turned over, making it easier for me to pick her up.
As I moved to put my arms under her, her eyes fluttered open.

"What's happening?" She mumbled, her voice thick with exhaustion.

"Shh, go back to sleep," I said, Scooping her up into my arms. She blinked slowly at me, studying me with her half open eyes. She nodded sleepily, completely unaware of what was happening- or that she was in my arms. Once she realized I was a familiar person, she leaned against me, snuggling into my chest as I carried her to her bed. Placing the blanket over her gently, I quietly left for my room.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I remembered what happened that night. The left portion of my collarbone was covered with a gauze as well as a smaller bandage on my side. I had to admit, Isla had done a pretty good job. Usually my wounds would be left untreated until I came around to capably nursing them.

Last night was a nightmare. A real life nightmare. I knew I shouldn't have gone to the shady part of the city at night. Wandering late at night in Paris was not a wise decision. The back alleys were the worst decision. And guess what I did. I went to the back alleys.

It had been nearly 8 months since I'd been involved in any incidents with the street gangs. I was never a part of one, but trouble always seemed to find its way to me. Like it had last night.

"Note to self, don't go out past 12," I muttered to myself, climbing into bed. The sun rising was the last thing I remembered before my eyes shut.

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