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A quick dash into the bathroom, and she was returning with a cool washcloth to place on his head. She bent over him, carefully lowering it, holding her breath as she tried her best not to touch him.
His head moved out of reach. His movements were fast even as he let free another pained exhale and swung something toward her. Alina dropped the wet cloth to the bed as she jerked back, tripping to land on her ass on the floor. His pillow tumbled down with her and was the only thing at hand that she could grab and hold as a shield when he followed up with a lunge.
The knife she’d been dreaming about ripped into the cloth, and Alina screamed.
Luka froze at the sound, his eyes opening. Puffs of stuffing rained down around them, and more fell when Alina let go of the pillow to huddle in on herself and press her lips together to stop the high-pitched, panicked noise she was making.
Luka fell back on his own ass. He’d released the knife, which was still stuck in the pillow that rested between them on the carpet. His eyes appeared to be unfocused as he squinted at her and clutched at his wound. “Alina?”
She told herself he was awake, that she didn’t need to try so hard to press herself into the wall, but the panic wouldn’t recede. Her head ducked, and she sobbed out the words she hadn’t wanted to repeat. “Don’t hurt me!” They were in the broken tone of someone who had no recourse but to beg. Hot tears tracked down her face. She hid them behind her hands as she tried to make herself smaller. She’d told herself she wouldn’t beg were it to happen again.
Luka started to scramble away, but he hissed in a breath as his legs gave out.
Silence fell between them, broken only by both of their shuddering breaths.
Shame dragged at Alina as she forced herself to peer out at him from beneath her arms.
Luka had lifted his shirt and stared down at where his stomach was covered in white bandages. A streak of blood slowly soaked through. That shouldn’t be. When she’d changed them before, the bleeding had stopped.
Her body uncurled as she managed to draw a full breath. “Oh no. The stitches.”
His eyes moved over her but hurried past, as if unable to lock on. They held the suffering of his fever along with something else.
Alina forced herself to shift toward him.
He scrambled back again, his body hunching forward from the pain.
“Luka, stop! You’ll make it worse.” She held up her hands to show that she wouldn’t touch him.
But he was jerking at his clothes, and another knife fell to the carpet. Followed by more. Soon there was a small pile of weapons that he was struggling to shift away from. His wrapped shoulder brushed the wall, and there was another pained exhale. His breath panted from him as he curled over his stomach. “All of them,” he forced out. “Won’t hurt you.” His eyes squeezed shut before he slumped forward. She thought she heard her name, followed by the vaguest mumble of “sorry.”
She stared at the knives and forced herself to move past them to reach his side. Her hands hovered, but there was no helping it. “Come on, back to bed.” Her arms moved around his torso, her face pressing into his chest as she tried to lift him.
Luka pushed up with his feet, and he was soon collapsed back onto the bed. For such a slight man, he was heavy, or maybe she was just weak.
She bit her cheek as her fingers grazed his stomach to pull at the adhesive of the bandage. As she removed it, she studied his wound. One side looked different from before, not as tightly sewn. “Damn it,” she muttered.
He watched her blearily as she turned to gather what Enzo had shown her she would need. Stitching flesh was nothing like cloth, and she got it over with quickly. With every move of her fingers, Luka’s breathing became more choppy. He was in pain, but not just from the wound. She was careful to touch him as little as possible as she wiped him clean with the cloth and attached another bandage.
Luka slumped over on the bed once she was finished. His head lay flat, no longer cushioned by a pillow, though there was a spare on the bed. His unfocused gaze stared up at the ceiling as she shook out a couple of pills from the prescription that the doctor had left behind. She hesitated before holding them out. “Can you sit up on your own?”
His head turned, his pale eyes blank as they stared through her. Already his eyelids were drooping, his consciousness seeming to fade.
She moved to him, her hand slipping under his head and forcing it to lift. “Not yet.” Her fingers pushed the pills between his lips. “The biggest fear is infection. Swallow.” He did as she asked, though another soft sound of pain slipped from him when her hand brushed along his neck as she eased him back down.
His body went limp, but his eyes remained open.
Alina reached over him for the wet cloth she had dropped earlier. He flinched into the mattress before stilling again.
She was extra slow in lowering it to his head, paying close attention so her fingers wouldn’t touch his skin.
The coolness of the cloth finally bade his eyes to shut.
She moved back against the wall, her shoes crushing the stuffing along the carpet. Her hands trembled as they dropped to her sides.
His breathing evened out as much as it could for the time being.
Alina didn’t move. She continued to watch him and focus on her own slow inhales and long exhales.
