Page 148 of Taint My Soul

I pick up the bottle and hand it to him. He twists the cover open, then spills the liquid on the wound. The liquid runs rust-red across his skin, dripping onto the bed. Ali’s jaw tightens, hands trembling only a bit. Memories flash in my head, and I see the overhead fluorescent lights and the pale blue walls of the hospital as nurses run down the hallway. “Is it working?” I ask to take my mind off the recollection of the night I was shot. I don’t remember anything after Cross took me from Saint’s arms. Besides, more information means I get to feel less panic.

“I hope so.” He mutters. “Suture kit.”

I dig into the medical supplies and hand them to him. “Come on, get on the bed and hold his shoulders.” I climb onto the bed, hands pressing into his sticky, pale brown skin, holding the big man down. Ali sews him back together. The needle goes in and out of his tender flesh, thread tightening his skin together. A raw sound leaves Bernard’s throat. He winces and grips the mattress.

“Almost done, my love. Almost done.” Ali’s gaze locks on Bernard’s face.

The man’s in pain. Excruciating pain.

Ali finishes with the entrance wound, and I hold him on his side while he sews up the exit wound.

“All good now.” Ali whispers, and Bernard smiles at him.

“Is there anything else we should do?”

“Antibiotics.” He takes out a vial and uses a syringe to draw the liquid, then he injects it into Bernard’s veins. He sighs and squats over the bed, watching Bernard breathe. “We just have to monitor his vitals. He’ll survive.”

“Alright.”

“You can shower. Get this blood off you. There’s food in the fridge, and I’ll get you sleeping pillows.” He sounds steadier than before.

“Alright. Can I get some fresh bandages?” I lift my shirt and show him my wound.

“Oh, if you need help, I’m here.”

“I can do it on my own.”

“Alright.” He nods.

I grab my bag, and I move down the amber-lit hallway, stepping into the bathroom.

The door groans behind me, and an exhausted breath escapes me as my lungs deflate. I peel off my clothes and put them in a pile on the vanity. My gaze lifts to the mirror as I grip the edges of the polished surface and stare at my reflection.

I slowly unroll the bandage around my injury and toss it into the bin. I enter the glass enclosure and turn on the shower. I place my hand on the surface and lean over as the water spills over my back, uncurling the tension in my muscles. A shaky breath spills out of me, my mind quickly returning to Saint. Regret washes over me as my thoughts scatter. My fingers clench and unclench into fists.

Once again, I’m the one running.

I’m the one hiding.

The one without power.

How the fuck am I going to save Saint? I can’t stay out here free and unharmed knowing that his father might have put him in that godforsaken place. It has to be the Red Vault. There’s no other reason why Bernard and I had to leave the city in short notice.

How long do I have to be the easy target?

I desperately needed answers, but I could only get them if Bernard survived.

If he’s in there, then I’ll get him out. I have to.

I remember how Dr. Khadija analyzed my emotions. I’m here, anxious and overwhelmed because I was just taken away from a happy place, forced to drive a dying man across the city.

This isn’t happening to me because I’m broken or because I’m a monster.

This is happening because Saint’s father can’t do the simple act of loving his son.

I can get through tonight without my emotions pouring over the surface.

When I finish, I leave the shower and dry my skin with a towel. I wrap my wound with the bandage, then I throw on a button shirt and a pair of shorts and join Ali in the living room.