"Think you can take me?" I arched an eyebrow.
"Are you doubting me?" She answered.
//
Natalie Perkins, born in London. The FBI is after her for the assassination of fourteen men. All of them brutally murdered one day of the week, all of them left wi...
You're a poison and I know that is the truth All my friends think you're vicious And they say you're suspicious You keep dreaming and dark scheming
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The pain spreading across the side of my torso was unbearable while Natalie told me to sit down on the couch. I wasn't even aware of the situation I had gotten myself into anymore because of the dolorous throb clouding my judgement. I was scared the bullet had hit some blood vessel or shit, because the crimson wouldn't stop draining off and it hurt really badly.
My eyes were screwed closed, one of my hands pressed against the wound and the other on my forehead. My heart pounded against my chest quick enough to set me on the border of a cliff and I was scared for myself.
I was tired and my eyelids felt heavy. Ragged breaths escaped my lips while I tried my best to stay awake, but I couldn't. Everything was so quiet, so peaceful, a short nap wouldn't hurt anyone...
"No, Harry, wake up. You can't sleep right now, okay?" I heard a sweet voice the moment I felt a gentle hand palming my cheek. I opened my eyes again to meet Natalie; her hair was now loose and there was a cute flush on her cheeks. "I know you're tired, I know you want to sleep, but you can't, understood?"
I nodded, cold air hitting me on the bare spots where my shirt once used to be. When did I take off my shirt? Who took it off? Where was I?
"Words, Harry, I need words. Talk to me." Natalie's voice sounded blurry while my eyes struggled to close again.
"I understand." I nodded.
My head felt heavy and it was starting to get hard to keep it in place, so I decided to leave it hanging with my chin against my chest. I guess that didn't get along with Natalie, because she grasped my jaw and forced me to look up again.
"We don't have time to take you to a proper hospital, so I'll have to remove the bullet myself, alright? This will hurt." She warned, disinfecting her hands with medical sanitizer. I nodded a slight bit but, once again, Natalie wasn't satisfied with my answer. "Words."
"Okay." I said, sounding pretty much drunk. I felt my heartbeat in the back of my head, hammering distressingly.
The sudden burning on my wound made me whimper in pain, feeling as though someone was pressing on it. In fact, Natalie was introducing her fingers through the opening, which was bleeding a lot.
"Fuck!" I gripped on the edge of the cushion till my knuckles went white, screwing my eyes shut and feeling her fingers leave my body. "Fuck, it hurts!"
I lowered my gaze to watch, even though my eyes burned like hell. She was taping a bandage over the wound really tight, but I knew enough to know it was for the best because it would stop it from bleeding off again.
