The night he took me away

Chapter 8

Ava

      The days repeated and I didn't know what day it was, but I knew it had been a long time since they kidnapped. I couldn't tell if the time at the microwave was correct, but I pretended it was. The only way to escape was through my old memories. And to distract me, I watched the window for hours like if it was the only channel of a TV. It didn't matter to me to be this way because I was used to it, just like Francesco Mancini said. All my life I had spent it inside an old house. The same four walls that miraculously didn't give me a phobia.
Miraculously.
Three days had passed by and I was by myself at the house again. I didn't know where Francesco was, and I really don't care. But I always wonder if he has cameras where he can observe me and be aware of what I do. If so, it will be a problem by the time I find a way to leave this place.
I swallow the last bite of my food and wash my plate before I go upstairs to sleep when I jump in fear when I hear the front door close aggressively.
Has one of his men entered the house?
Without hesitation, I grab a knife and hide behind a table. My hands begin to shake and I cover my mouth to prevent the stranger to hear my fast breathing.
Wh...what should I do?
Suddenly I hear groans and slow steps on the stairs.
Is it Francesco? What if is another person? What's the difference? I'm scared either is Francesco or a stranger.
After remaining still and not hearing any sounds, It took a lot of my courage to stand up and plan to go upstairs to lock myself in my room since is the safest place I know.
Just run and lock the door.
But my legs betray me with each step I take because I go slower to maintain my balance. Once I cautiously step into the hall, I hear the groans again.
I follow the sound and see an open door in the same room I talked with Francesco. Taking deep breaths I walk forward until I gasp when I see Francesco on the floor bleeding from his arm and stomach.
"Oh my God."
I run towards him and bend down.
"Wh...what happened?" I asked with a trembling voice.
"They set..." He flinches in pain. "They set me into a trap."
"What should I do? How can I stop—"
I look around.
"I need to sit on the couch," He softly says, already closing his eyes.
I nod and without hesitation I wrap my hand around him.
He gives all his energy and eventually manages to sit down.
His breathing quickens while I look around for a gauze and other tools.
"Remove the bullet."
"What?" My eyes go wide.
"Remove...remove the bullet, " he repeats.
"I...I don't know how, " I confess.
Is he crazy?!
"Just do it!" He exclaims.
He tells me where to get the kit and alcohol which I pour into his wound without his notice.
"Fuck!" He yells in pain.
I wrap his arm with a belt and then take the bullet with forceps that he keeps in this room. I easily take the one on his arm in matter of seconds, but the one in his stomach takes me longer than expected.
"Don't close your eyes! Don't. Close. Them, " I say as I realized he had stopped groaning.
It takes me a few seconds until I finally achieve it. I close the wounds by sewing them the best I can.
How did I do this? How could I sew the skin?!
I cover the wound with the gauze and glance at him in a hurry.
"Francesco?" I called. "Open your eyes."
Oh no. Is he dead?!
I get closer to hear his breathing meanwhile, I touch his neck to check his pulse.
"He's breathing, " I sigh in relief. "He's breathing, " I repeat to myself.
I sit beside him and take a moment to take in everything that has just happened.
Calm down, Ava. He saved your life from that basement, so you saved his. Breathe. Everything is fine.
"Why didn't he go straight to the hospital?" I whispered.
I stayed in the room for half and hour to clean everything, and waited for him to be conscious, however, he never opened his eyes again. I covered him with a thick blanket, and observed his features in detail.
I tilted an eyebrow when I noticed he had let his beard grow.
I wonder who of all his enemies set him a trap.
     I straightened and stopped when I was about to leave the room.
What if he gets a fever? Or something else happens and dies at midnight? Did I sew the wound perfectly?
     The thoughts invade my mind and finally decide to stay in the same room just in case.
Why do I care for him? I shouldn't but I need to. He's the only one who may help me to escape. Maybe.
    I grab another blanket and sit across him on another couch until hours passed by and my eyes felt heavy that I couldn't help the exhaustion. There were moments in between where I woke up to check him but he never moved, he remained in the same position for the rest of the night.