“Listen to me.”
She nods shakily, sniffling.
“This is Pidge.”
He’s been keeping me alive since we showed up at his safehouse, stopping the bleeding.
Yet she still jumps around him like he’s going to be the next person to attack us.
Maybe this new fear of hers is a good thing, maybe she’ll realize how much goddamn danger she’s in, but right now I just need her to fucking listen.
“He’s going to use those bolt cutters to cut through the chain, and then I’m going to take you to bed where you can sit and rest, okay?”
“But what about,” she starts but quickly cuts herself off, her tight shoulders slowly deflating.
“I’m okay. I’m going to take care of everything. You need to take a moment and breathe, okay?”
Aerin nods rapidly, her damp, ruined curls clumping together around her shoulders. “Okay,” she murmurs. “Okay.”
We arrived at Pidge’s twenty minutes ago.
It’s taken this long to calm her down, but it’s a start.
I need to get her someplace safe and secure, then I need to get this bullet out of me before it turns me into a liar.
Pidge, after a nod from me, slips between us with the bolt cutters and snips the chain cleanly.
Then I scoop Aerin up into my arms, bridal style, and follow Pidge’s nod toward the bedroom.
Despite her panting and trembling, Aerin finally falls silent and clings to me as we walk down a short hallway and into the bedroom. Pain is a distant thought, though, as long as I focus on Aerin, so that’s what I do.
Every ounce of strength I have left fixates on her as I place her on the bed and help her remove her bloodstained hoodie and jogging pants.
She’s under the covers before I glimpse anything I shouldn’t, so I pull them up to her shoulders.
“Pidge has a shower if you want?—”
“No,” Aerin gasps. “I’m not…not yet. I don’t want to. I just…”
I nod, not prying further into her turmoil. After securely checking the window multiple times, I linger in the doorway, searching for something to say.
Nothing comes as my thoughts trail back to my wounds.
“I’ll be back,” I assure her, then I close the door and limp back to Pidge’s living room.
He waits for me by the bloodied sofa and snaps his fingers, pointing at the cushion I just vacated with a silent instruction for me to sit.
“What have you gotten involved in?” Pidge grumbles as I cautiously lower myself onto the sofa.
I don’t reply.
I lay there, silent and empty, as he cuts away my t-shirt and starts tending to the bullet wound just under my ribcage.
Pain flares at first when he begins, but it quickly fades as I numb myself, pushing all sensation to the back of my mind.
How did they find us?
I was careful. I was so fucking careful. Paramatti safe houses are a closely guarded secret and yet somehow they found us.
