Stockholm Syndrome H.S

Chapter 9: compassion

TW: talk of blood and a deep gash (not self inflected)

Juliet's POV:

The last three days have been the same routine. I wake up , I stare at the wall , I listen to the sounds of the trees outside and I barely eat.

Ever since the other day I just can't get the image of blood on his hands out of my mind and it conflicts me even more than I already was. I don't know him, as long as I've been here I still don't know him. Has he hurt me ? No but that's not a justifiable reason to trust him ... is it ?

It's dark now and I've been staring at the bowl of whatever meat he's cooked tonight sitting on the bedside table. It's storming out so the wind is whipping the cabin like a category four hurricane.

I'm pulled from my gaze to the candle being blown out. "Shit .. I can't see a fucking thing." I sigh and stand up , wrapping myself in the thin torn sheet on my bed. I stand softly and begin shuffling my feet against the wood floor .

I don't want to walk normally and risk tripping and hitting my — "OW SHIT UGH!" My thoughts are interrupted by the ripping of skin on my foot. A piece of wood from the flooring had been sticking up just enough to rip a gash from the center of my foot to my heel.

I start to cry and sit on the floor in agony. I can't even see how bad the cut is because it's too dark. The moon is on the other side of the house tonight so all I have .. had , is candle light.

I sit crying for a few minutes before the door swings open revealing a darkened shadow in the doorway. At this point I'm in too much pain to even care about who Harry is or what he did or didn't do I just want the pain to stop.

"Oh shit what happened ?" He says coming over to me and kneeling in front of me. A squish sound is evident as he kneels and I know he's just knelt in my own blood.

"The candle went out .. and I went to relight it .. and I couldn't see and I .. I got cut on something and I can't see and it really hurts." I whimper out the words trying to just focus so I don't pass out.

He doesn't say another word , he just lifts me into his arms and walks with me out of the room. At this moment I'm completely helpless and vulnerable. This is it. This is my test. What will he do ? Will he help me ? Take me out back and shoot me like a dog ? I'm not thinking clearly but I'm also thinking the clearest I've thought since being here.

It's only then that I notice he's soaking wet. Not his hair but his clothes ? He's sweating ? But why ? To many questions are entering my head to distract me from the pain in my foot. Oddly enough it's working.

We get into the kitchen and he sets me on the table. I'm sweating and shaking. I don't know if it's fear or pain at this point. "Are you alright darling ?" His words are softer than he's ever spoken.

Rather than answering him I go back to the thought of him being drenched. " why are you soaked ?" I say , watching him light a candle in front of me and noticing that his face has been scratched up. " what happened to your face ?" I reach a hand up and he grabs it gently.

"It's  nothing." He gently places my hand back to my side and grabs a bottle of whiskey from the bottom cabinet, a sewing needle and some thread that was left in an old kit beneath the sink. "It's nothing ..." he takes a deep breath again and shakes his head.

I don't believe him. I've never seen him look like this. He holds the needle over the flame to sanitize it before pulling his shirt off and handing it to me. " you're gonna want to bite down on this." He says handing it to me and I take it gently but disregard his words. "Harry those don't look like nothing. What happened?"

"Like I said . It's nothing just, I just have bad anxiety. Bite the shirt." His face falls before shaking it off and motioning for me to do as he's asked. I do so and instantly feel the searing pain of the whiskey hitting my wound. Not exactly the best anesthetic but it'll definitely kill the bacteria so I don't loose my whole foot.

He sews it quickly but I scream the whole time. Pain so severe that I begin sweating just as much as he is. He's calm and collected yet compassionate. He can tell I'm in pain and every once in a while he will say he's almost done or that I'm doing great. Little praises that don't seem like much but mean the entire world at a moment like this.

After he finishes he tosses the needle and uses a clean shirt from the drying wrack in the kitchen and rips it into strips, tying off the wound. "There. Now that wasn't so bad was it?" He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and for the first time I'm looking deeply into his eyes.. and I'm not scared of him. Not at all I'm fact.

I get lost in them for a moment and gaze down to his lips. They look soft ... warm even. I don't know what's happening but I can't stop looking. " Little mouse , are you ok ?" His words pull me slightly away from staring.

"Yes I just .. thank you." I say , fidgeting my hands in my lap. Then he says something I wasn't expecting " I'm sorry I didn't answer you before I just ...  I just worry about you."

His eyes are soft. His expression genuine and I'm taken aback by his words. " I worry about you too ... and that's why I want to know what happened." I say patting the spot on the table beside me.

This is what I've been waiting for. A moment to just talk to him that wasn't about trials and murder and accusations. A chance to listen. He takes a deep breath and sits beside me. " I just have bad anxiety. I'm afraid of storms if I'm completely honest. As a kid I'd hide in the closet during a storm. Our childhood house was lost in a fire , the light pole was struck by lightning and fell on our house." He pauses to chuckle a bit but in a sullen tone. " you'd think , in the pouring rain a house wouldn't go up in flames. But how wrong you'd be. I was trapped in the closet and I almost died that day. Took the fire department almost 20 minutes to find me and it was engulfed in flames already."

I look to his trembling hands and make the decision to grab one. At first he's tense about it. Like human touch is almost inhuman to him. "Is that why you've been on edge lately ? All the rain ?" I ask , and he relaxes a bit in my hand.

"That's part of it yea. The closet here has a hole in the ceiling and I was panicking because the wind got really bad. So I scratched at my face and I was trembling. I didn't want you to think badly of me."

That was an odd sentence for me. But I let the last part go. I don't know what I think of him but right now he looks like he needs some compassion. " come stay in my room tonight... the candle blew out and the storms raging out there. I don't want you to be alone in this ." I look into those eyes again and see a slight glimmer of happiness for the first time.

"Are you sure you're ok with that?" He asks and I nod. " I'm positive."

A/N
SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE UGH LIFES REALLY BEEN CRAZY ! BUT WHAT DO YOU THINK AHHHH THIS IS THE FIRST STORY TO EVER HIT 2k FOR ME SO THANK YOU SO SO MUCH. WHAT ARE YOUR THEORIES HUH? Is he innocent ? Is he not ? Hmmm hmmm