The Debt

7

  It's been about a week since I was released from the hospital. I haven't spoken to Noah since the day I woke up. When he tried to speak to me I acted as if he weren't there. If I was dead to him, he was dead to me.

  The healing process of a stab wound is most definitely not fun. The stitches will be removed next week and I'm definitely not ready for that, but it's either get the string out or suffer the tugging every time I reach or stretch and I can't handle anymore of it than I have to.

  It took a lot of convincing but after two days I was finally able to come home, and of course, Isaiah had to be attached to my hip in order for me to even be able to step foot into my apartment. Luckily for me though, he still has to work and make his own money.

  My head snapped over to the direction of my door. There were three knocks that made my body go rigid. It was currently nine o'clock at night, Isaiah was at "work", and I wasn't expecting anybody. I pushed myself off the couch and pulled down the large t-shirt I was wearing. Honestly, when you're home alone, it's mandatory that you don't wear pants.

  I brought my eye up to the little peephole on the door. Dante stood there with his hands in his pockets, waiting patiently. His beard was grown out but it wasn't as bad as it was when he visited me at the hospital, it was trimmed and he looked like he actually got some sleep.

  My hand wrapped around the doorknob as I unlocked it with the other before pulling it open slightly so I could peak out with my top half.

  "Hey Turgenev, what's up?" To say I was shocked by his visit would be an understatement. I haven't known Dante for long but he doesn't seem like the type to be spontaneous, but again, I've only ever known the business side of him.

  He almost looked surprised that I even answered the door but he continued. "Hey, can I come in?"

  What.

  I froze trying to form up a plan so he wouldn't see me in nothing but an XL t-shirt that I stole from Isaiah's closet.

  "Uhm-... one moment," I said before slamming the door closed and running off to my bedroom to throw on some sweatpants.

  I pulled a pair of puma sweatpants from my dresser and began shoving each leg inside of the pants as quickly as possible. My second foot got caught inside the pant leg as I hopped towards the door, sending me flying to my doom. I let out a shocked yelp as I fell face-first onto my floor. A giant wave of pain fell over me because I—stupidly—rolled to my side after falling, and the side I rolled on just so happened to be the side of my—still—healing stab wound.

  The front door swung open as I laid down on the floor impossibly still, waiting for the pain to be over. I was hissing through my teeth and taking in deep breaths, trying my best not to cry. No doubt there'd be a brand new bruise on my hip because I didn't want my face to be bruised.

  "Shit- Maliena are you okay?" Dante panicked as he shut the front door and made his way over to me.

  "Peachy." I wheezed, still laying on the floor not daring to move a muscle out of fear that the pain would somehow spread.

  Since Dante was already inside and I didn't want him to just watch me cry on the ground, I forced myself to sit up with a wince while holding a hand over the wound as if that'd do something to help the pain.

  "Do you want me to get you something—"

  "No, no it's fine." I interrupted as I continued to cradle my side. "So, what's up?"

  I tried my best not to grimace or do anything to show the amount of pain I was actually in. Can't let him know I'm not always the baddest bitch, for all he knows, it's my constant state of living.