Innocent ✔️

Eight

For the forth time, I looked down at him and took off the wet napkin and replaced it with another on his forehead.

His eyes were closed and his lips were dry. The only sign I had to make sure that he was still alive was how warm his body was and his shining chest above his beating heart. I took the time to scan his soft skin of his face and the piercings on the corner of his nose and bottom lip.

Who are you and what happened to you were the two question runing in my skull and I didn't know if I will get answers for them anytime soon.

I took another soaked napkin and run it on his shirtless chest. I took his shirt off earlier knowing that I will need it off to clean his wounds and cuts and I gave myself the right to watch his tattoos all over his chest and arms but I couldn't see those on his back.

I slowly cleaned the blood of it and managed to make his nose to stop bleeding.

He was alright for now and as much as I wanted him to see how much I helped him, as much as I didn't want him to see me at all but I knew that would be impossible because I placed him on my bed and my white cover had red touches on it. I didn't care much about it as long as I could help him but now that I do, I don't know what else I should do.

A small cough cut my thoughts and again my heart start beating fast, racing for something I didn't know. He won't do anything to me, he better be nice, I just helped him. Will he be nice though? The coughs were getting louder but his eyes were still fully closed and I hoped he would fall back asleep but his eyes slowly opened and looked around the ceiling of the room and then turned straight to mine. I quickly looked away, afraid of what will happen next.

Who was that? I remember him having a British accent like Miss Robertson and Mister Mickelson, is he one of them? Is he one of the family at all? Is he even known here?

"Where am I?" He spoke, throwing his head back. Probably because of the wounds on his chest and the pain that it was causing.

I didn't know if should answer or no but I wanted to. He was around my age, he couldn't be anyone to worry of.

"In my room." I murmured, stood up and walked a little bit away from the bed since I was sitting right next to him, feeling his eyes on me but I still didn't look up at him; I focused on the floor.

"Naughty much, aren't you?" He said with a small smirk.

Noty, he said. A word that I didn't know what it means. I bite my bottom lip, thinking of what I should say.

"I'm teasing." He groaned and cough twice again before sitting up on the bed and looked back at me with a small smile on the corner of his lips. What is it with British people smiling that way at me whenever I'm around?

"You brought me here?" He said.

"Yes." I said and as soon as I heard a yelp out of pain escaping his mouth, I run up to him and looked at where his hand was. He was bleeding again. I run to the towel in the corner of my room and walked to the washroom, turning on the water and soaked the towel before walking quickly back at him and placed the wet towel on the bleeding wound. Slowly caressing it, I wanted to tell him I will press on it so It would stop bleeding but I was too shy to even speak at the moment. I pressed anyway on it with my fingers, getting another groaned out of his mouth. "Sorry." I muttered. I pressed harder when the white towel turned red, bloody red.

"Easy tiger." He said.

"I'm sorry." I pressed harder.

A few seconds later, it stopped bleeding. I pressed one more time to make sure everything was fine but as soon as I was about to take off my hand, he covered it with his.