She skates a breathy moan as she slides herself lazily up and down my shaft.
“A, D, D, I, C, K, T, I, O, N,” she spells out for me, and I bark out a laugh. “See, real-world problems going on over here!”
I smile as she kisses me again, and I feel like I belong here with her at this moment. I know Vic’s safe; I know she’s being careful, and most of all, she’s alive. I just hope she’s not alone.
Jacob
Chapter XLV
I panic when I hear the screech of tyres, and I run to the front window to see Vic back. As she turns sharp to get into the garage, I hear and feel the thud as she must crash into the wall. I run for the door that leads to the garage, and I tug at it. As I hear her tugging at the locks, the door flies open, and I meet her eyes. She’s almost collapsed onto the floor, and as she looks at me, she drops down. She’s covered in blood all down one side, and I make a split-second decision and leg it.
I jump over her and run for the car. It’s still running, so I dive in, slamming the car into reverse and squealing out of there. As I get down the driveway, I can’t help the guilt that washes over me. What if she was telling the truth about people being out to kill me? What if she saved me, and now I’ve left her to die?
I slam the brakes on, gripping the steering wheel tight. I rest my head on it, trying to calm my racing heartand breathe. I want to go, I want to leave, but then I don’t want to leave her. I need to go back. I can’t have it on my conscience if she died there all alone. I take a few deep breaths and slowly turn the vehicle around. I drive it back into the garage and shut down the door. I take the keys from the car and put them in my pocket. I walk over to her, but she’s face down. I check for a pulse, and she’s still breathing. I lift her and carry her into the house, placing her on my bed. I take one of the pillowcases off and screw it into a ball. She’s wearing leggings, so I take them off of her and use them to tie around her waist, holding tight against the balled-up pillowcase. I pull her top up over her head and get a bowl and a rag to clean her up the best I can. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know I need to keep pressure on it, and although I want to call an ambulance, I know I probably shouldn’t. Once I’ve cleaned her up the best I can, I pull the covers around her and head out to the car. I stand there with the keys in my hand. I could leave now. I think she’ll be okay, I don’t owe her anything, and I certainly don’t owe her my loyalty, but I just can’t bring myself to leave her. I take the bags out of the boot and load the food into the fridge and the cupboards.
It’s then I notice the books and iPod and wonder if they’re for me. I feel a twang of something when I see the matching fluffy hoodie things. I smile a sad smile to myself. She really is looking after me, even if it’s in a fucked-up way. I head out into the garage and try to clean the floor up as best I can. I look in the car. I’m not even going to try. It’s then I realise I’m covered in her blood. I head inside and strip off in my bathroom and shower, leaving the clothes on the bottom to rinse out. Iwrap a towel around me, check on her, and let out a relieved breath. She’s breathing, she seems okay, and she’s sleeping, so I go upstairs in search of some clothes.
It’s hours later when she stirs. I’ve dragged one of the living room chairs in so I could be near her in case she needed anything, and I’m reading one of the books she brought me.
Her eyes flutter open, and she groans as she tries to sit. “Hey, slow down.”
Her eyes fling to mine. “You’re still here.” She looks confused, then concerned, then pleased, then confused again.
“I didn’t want to miss out on wearing the cute matching PJs.” I smile over at her, and she flushes, dropping back down. She groans, and I get up, grabbing the tablets and some orange juice. “Here, drink this and take these. It will make you feel better.”
She sits up again and starts to pull the covers back.
“Where you going?”
“I need to sort this out.” She gestures to her side and tries to stand. Stumbling a bit, I jump in front of her and hold her up.
“Hey, tell me what you need, and I will fetch it for you, okay?”
“It’s okay, I can manage.” She goes to pull away, but I tug her firmer.
“No, let me help.”
She huffs out a breath and screws her face up like she doesn’t know how to ask someone to help her, and my heart breaks a little that she seems to have dealt with things like this by herself before. “I need the first aid box from under the sink in the bathroom upstairs and a towel and a kettle of boiled water.”
I sit her back on the edge of the bed. “Don’t move, okay?”
She nods as I back out of the door. I grab everything she needs, and when I get back, she’s heavy breathing with her eyes closed. I put the stuff down and drop to my knees in front of her, and her gaze opens up to meet mine. She looks dazed and confused. “You came back.”
“I came back.” I smile, help her to her feet, and lead her into the bathroom.
I open the first aid kit, and she strips off the leggings and pillowcase. Pulling out a pair of long pliers, she holds them into the boiling water in the kettle for a little while before she takes a deep breath and grits her teeth, pushing them into the wound. She grunts and cries out as she digs around before pulling them out, a bullets gripped in the end and dropping them to the floor, gasping. There’s more blood coming from the wound, and it takes me all I can to not puke on her. She flops her head, panting, and takes a few deep breaths before taking out a suture kit.
“You’re gonna stitch yourself up?”
“Unless you wanna do it.”
I bring my hand back to my mouth and wave the other one in her direction, letting her know to carry on.
She dangles the needle from the end of the cotton, holding it in the kettle before pulling it out. She leans back and starts sliding the needle through her skin, pinching and pulling it together as she goes. It goes into her stomach above her hip; she pulls and tugs at the skin, puckering it up and pulling it together. She tosses the needle onto the side once she’s sewn the hole up. She reaches over, wincing and grabbing the towel before dumping the contents of the kettle into the sink, dipping the towel in and wiping herself down her chest. She is heaving as she dabs at her skin.
“Can I help?”
“It’s okay.” She starts to lean, wincing, and dabs at her leg.
