Feet shuffled behind me, and I realized I was blocked in. The other fighters watched closely, their eyes lazily dropping over my figure. I wrapped my arms around myself and focused on Antonio, wishing I had worn longer shorts.
"Thank you, Joe," Antonio said to the old man who had brought me downstairs, though his eyes remained on me.
I felt like I was under a microscope.
"Lily, how confident do you feel sewing up this gentleman's head?" Antonio nodded to the teenager.
I balked. "I only know CPR."
The only time I ever used that training was on a resuscitation doll. And once almost on Jane because she choked on a mouthful of sushi.
Antonio shrugged, keeping his composure and posture the same. "Give it a try."
My heart started to pound against my chest, and there was a throbbing in my ears. I didn't have a problem with the blood. I could handle blood, but seeing the extent of the cut and the flap of loose skin hanging from its edges made it difficult not to gag. The pressure to somehow fix it made everything worse.
"I-I can't."
Hushed muttering shifted around the quiet of the room amongst the men. They looked at me as if I had a death wish.
"You heard her." The murmuring stopped when Dean spoke. His arms were still folded as he looked directly at Antonio. "She shouldn't even be down here.”
I wanted to thank him but, at the same time, was terrified of what consequences he would face for speaking to his boss that way, especially since everyone was looking at him like he had a death wish.
Without saying a word, Antonio seemed to have warned Dean not to interrupt him with only a look. And scarily, it worked. Dean clenched his jaw and dropped his gaze to the teenager again.
“Let me rephrase,” Antonio continued, his smile less gentle. “You will sew up Levi’s head, Lily. Preferably before he bleeds out.”
I was way out of my depth here, drowning with no one to save me as I stared down at the boy whose blood was beginning to pool on the table. I wasn’t qualified for this. What was Antonio thinking? Plus, my sewing skills could barely hold clothing together. This was human skin.
My stomach surged, but I took a breath. I didn’t have a choice and doubted Antonio would let me leave without doing something.
Again, that little voice popped into my head, urging me to help.
Moving stiffly, I walked around to the couch above Levi’s head and sat on the edge of the cushion. My eyes drifted from the gaping wound to the sewing kit before I lifted it onto my lap. The metal of the tin was cool against my thighs. I popped the lid open and began looking for a needle and thread. But it wouldn’t matter what I used so long as I got the bleeding to stop. I settled on the black thread and a thin needle and shakily threaded it while everyone watched.
This is so wrong.
Taking another deep breath, I leaned forward and brought my hands to Levi’s head, hesitating with the needle hovering just above his skin.
"Here," said an unfamiliar voice from nearby.
I looked up as one of the fighters stepped forward with a bottle of vodka. His black hair was tightly curled and shaved around the sides. He had rich brown eyes, a subtle smile in the corner of his full lips, and dark stubble across his lip and jawline. I remembered him from Saturday night when Kira, Aiden, and I entered the basement. The fighter who danced away from punches and practically skipped from the pit when he won.
"To sterilize the cut and stuff." He smiled a little as he handed me the bottle. He either grabbed it from upstairs or stored it in his locker.
My hands continued to shake as I unscrewed the bottle lid.
I splashed the vodka onto the needle and then moved to pour some over Levi’s forehead. But I poured too fast and without warning. An accident I regretted the second the bottle had tilted. The alcohol washed into the open wound, and Levi let out a strangled cry. His head came close to smacking mine as he sat up, spraying blood and vodka into the air. Dean quickly stepped forward, taking him by the shoulders and pinning him down onto the coffee table with a thud.
"Calm down," he grunted as Levi struggled to get free. It didn't take long for Levi to lay still again, whimpering and murmuring to himself.
I sat forward, gripping the needle tightly between my fingers as I placed my other hand tentatively on Levi's forehead. With the way Dean was positioned, leaning over the coffee table to pin Levi down, and myself having to lean forward above Levi's head, we had come to be sitting very close. Our heads were inches apart. With that in mind, I kept my eyes down, focusing on the boy.
His blood was on my hands as I slowly moved to push the needle through his skin.
"FUUUCK!" he cried, his voice cracking as he went to move again.
“I’m sorry-I’m sorry-I’m sorry,” I cringed, pulling the thread through.
