WHAT WAITS FOR US

June 26th, 1912

Marion trembled as her hands approached the gaping wound, so close to the man's veins it was almost unbearable.

Noticing her utter distress, Charles kept quiet, waiting for the reaction and just then did she stop, retreating from the injury with hands hanging by her side like those of a rag doll.

"I can't do this, Charles! I'm going to hurt you," she shrugged.

Charles rolled his eyes at the constant complaining before grabbing the bottle of whiskey, careful not to waste the good drink as he poured it onto a cloth. It stung like a thousand hornets when alcohol met skin, but the man didn't show the nasty feeling. It was proof that he can endure it, even if it hurts.

"What if I mess up?" she asked, doubtful of her skills.

"You won't," he assured as he took Marion's hand and led it to the wound, pressing the needle into it just enough to draw a drop of blood. "I trust you."

There was no way she could persuade him, so Marion began her work, slowly making way through the gap.

The sutures bound it tightly, each move accompanied by her nervous gulp, yet no matter the pain and the sting, Charles endured it silently, heaving breaths forcing their way out with every stab of the needle. But the woman was gentle, her touches were careful and soothing, tearing away the discomfort of the situation.

"And... last one!" Marion disclosed joyfully while rubbing the freshly sutured patch of skin with a wet cloth.

Relieved, Charles sat up, stretching profusely after laying for so long, but a second of relaxation was all life had to offer.

Noticing his careless actions set Marion's anger ablaze and she didn't hesitate to scold the farmer.

"New stitches and you act like they're not there! The wound will open before we bandage it! " she reached for the roll of bandages beside her, moving to stand face to face with the man.

Their stares locked as if it were their first time meeting, each engaged in the other's features.

The faded blue eyes that could melt a glacier trapped the young girl like a bird in a cage, and she didn't fail to do the same to him.

The soft expression, the full lips instantly caught Charles' interest. What would it feel like?

The taste of her kiss?

The warmth of her skin?

With his hand, he cupped her cheek, a fond smile dancing on his face, something he never felt before burning in his heart.

But as she wrapped the protective layer of cloth around him, there was no way he could look at her. Her touch made him shift, as it was light, incomparable to the raw force of a man, and his eyes fell onto the forest in the distance.

"Sorry! D-does it hurt?" Marion yelped with a bright colour dancing on her cheeks, thinking the sudden estrangement of the man's gaze was from the pain she'd caused him.

A shake of the head and a peaceful huff dismissed her worries, though Charles couldn't look back. If he were to do so, what would've happened to them?

For what was left of the unfortunate night, Charles found himself brooding through the darkest corners of his mind, the pain stealing his slumber.

Although he'd just killed five men, he was peaceful, knowing that by taking those pitiful lives he saved the one worth saving.

Suddenly in dire need of spilling his thoughts on paper, he went outside to retrieve the journal from the stable.