Page 31 of Queen of Ruin

“Excuse me!” I call, hurrying after them as quickly as I dare. “Excuse me, you got a light?”

They both pause and turn, each fixing me with a glazed look as they sway back and forth.

“Huh?” The man drawls in a rough, high-pitched voice.

They barely look old enough to be out this late. “You got a light?” I repeat. “Tryna impress my lady and my fucker blew. Can I borrow one?”

“Nah,” the man replies. “Fuck off.”

“Danny!” The woman drives her elbow into the man’s gut. “He’s tryna be romantic! Help him out!”

“Why?” Danny says, turning away. “Ain’t my lady.”

“Well I am, and you don’t fucking do anything to impress me, do you?” the woman snaps “You wouldn’t fucking know romance if it punched you in that tiny dick.”

“Hey, fuck you!” he whines as she shrugs his arm off her shoulder and walks toward me.

A few feet away, she digs a lighter out of her tiny skirt and tosses it in the air. “Here. It’s nearly dead but got enough to light a few candles.”

“Thanks.” I catch it with one hand. “Enjoy your night.”

“The fuck are you doing, Brit?” Danny hisses as the woman returns to his side, arms crossed. “That dude could be a serial killer?”

“And he still has more chance of getting laid than you do.”

“The fuck!?”

“Romance, Danny!” Brit snaps as they storm away. “Fucking romance!”

I leave them to it and dart back into my room, locking the door quickly just in case Danny decides to start some trouble I don’t have time for. Valentina remains exactly where I left her, which is as relieving as it is alarming.

“I got a lighter,” I say, making conversation in the silence to make myself feel better. “I’ve never stitched like this before, but I have sewn a few holes closed in my clothes. Bound to be the same thing, right?”

God, I hope so.

Kneeling back beside the bed, I flick the lighter and hold the needle to the flame. I’ve no idea how long I’m supposed to hold it there or how long it takes to kill off any bacteria, so I hold it until the needle begins to glow orange and burn my fingertips. Then I repeat it with the other side just as the lighter splutters and dies.

It’ll have to do.

“I’m really sorry,” I murmur as I thread the needle with trembling fingers. “This is probably going to hurt.”

Luckily, Valentina remains unconscious during the entire thing. Squeezing the wound closed with two fingers and under air stained with the scent of copper, I stitch that wound closed the best I can. Piercing a needle into her flesh is enough to make my stomach roll, but after a couple of rough crisscrosses, the wound is closing and the blood flow is lessening.

In the end, that’s all that matters.

Cross after cross, I weave the thread back and forth with each careful press of the needle. Sweat beads my hairline and my heart lurches every time my stained fingers slip against the wound, but in the end, I’m successful.

It’s messy and crooked, and her skin looks a little tight, but the wound is closed and no more blood leaks down onto the blanket. I sit back on my haunches and grunt as the movement alerts me to how stiff my thighs are from kneeling for so long.

But it’s done.

“Now don’t go all ninja on anyone else, okay?” Tossing the needle aside, I gaze down into the medical bag, but there’s nothing else to help me. I’ll need to get her antiseptic and painkillers, which means I need to get money from somewhere.

Fuck.

The best I can do is clean her wound with hot water and pray nothing else will go wrong. Once she’s cleaned up and I’ve removed the bloodied sheet to the floor, I tuck Valentina up and retreat to the shower.

What a fucking night.