Page 72 of Bleed with Me

Without asking any further questions, I took the elevator, heading for Aryna’s room. The pediatric ward wasn’t operational yet, so they'd placed her in a regular room with less supervision since her condition had improved quickly.

But as the nurse followed me, reporting last night’s struggle with the little one, I started reconsidering that decision. If she had torn her stitches out and continued to do so, we’d have to place her under 24/7 psychiatric observation.

Opening the door into the room, I immediately found a tiny body curled under the table in the corner. A sad sigh involuntarily flew from my mouth when I noticed she trembled and sobbed while sticking her tiny fingers into the bloody wound on her forearm.

“Leave, please,” I said to the nurse, taking the tray from her. She looked like she wanted to object, but I shut her up with a stern glance.

Placing the tray with bandages and disinfectant beside the bed, I felt Aryna’s puffy eyes on me. She muffled a sob, pressing her quivering small body against the wall as if trying to melt into it.

“Hello, angel.” I crouched before her, my heart aching at seeing her coral-blue eyes blown with fear and golden curls matted with blood. “Do you remember me? I’m Dorian.”

She hesitantly nodded, her bloodied fingers instinctively connecting with the stitches, or rather what was left of them.

“If you keep tearing them out,” I pointed at her swollen forearm, “You’ll stay here forever.”

“Forever?” she muttered, barely audible. The spark of hope that crossed her face put me on high alert.

“Well, not forever.” I sat on the floor, slowly moving under the table. “But loooong enough for you to grow old here.”

One corner of her lips slightly lifted when I rolled my eyes theatrically.

“You don’t want to spend your days here with me like an imprisoned princess, right?” I shook my head at that idea, my chest filling with joy that she at least stopped crying. “It’s better to go outside and play.”

She drifted her gaze to the floor, her lower lip trembling. I quickly understood my words triggered her. But why? All kids loved to play outside.

“Hey, angel.” I lowered myself to her level. “What’s wrong? Did I say something that made you sad?”

Inhaling a shaky breath, she bent her knees, trying to pull them to her chest, but instead, she cried out in pain.

“Easy.” I instinctively took her hand, stopping her from tearing the nightgown and seeing what hurt. “The glass cut you. I had to remove it. It’ll take time for it to heal.”

“H-how much time?” she asked in a thin voice, hope shining in her irises.

“Weeks,” I replied, making a silent promise to keep her here as long as possible. “Do you know how long one week is?”

Her brows furrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she mused about my question. I used the time to quickly check her forearm, finding no additional damage beyond what the glass had already caused. Two stitches needed repair, but no other work was required.

“Seven… days,” Aryna whispered, unsure, glancing at me for confirmation. Her voice sounded steadier, as if the realization that she would be here longer calmed her.

“Very good.” I nodded. “I’ll check up on you every day for the next seven days.” Her face lit up, and a tiny smile grazed her lips. “But I need a promise that after I sew your arm again, you won’t tear the stitches out.”

“If I…” she started, her expression faltering, “if I don’t… you won’t come?”

“I will come every day, angel,” I claimed without hesitation, my chest tightening at seeing her concern. “But I want to help you. You need to heal.”

“But then I’ll go home,” she burst out, immediately slamming her hand over her mouth. Huge tears fell on her cheeks, and she kicked me when I tried to move closer.

“Angel,” I soothed, ignoring the boulder in my stomach. I was ready to smash anyone who hurt her in that fucking house. “You won’t go anywhere until you’re okay.”

“But…” she sobbed.

“I’m the boss here. No one will take you away without my approval.”

-36-

Dorian

But then