MAYHEM

Chapter 7 | Negotiate

I whimpered loudly and clutched my forearm as blood started to trickle down. Fuck, it pained like hell.

Even with the excruciating pain I lifted my head to glare at him and for a moment something akin to guilt flashed across his face before he masked his emotions again.

"That's what happens when you don't obey me."

All the pent up emotions surged forward and tears welled up in my eyes. No. I won't cry in front of him. Never.

When he took a step forward I stepped back afraid he is going to attack considering he was still holding the dagger in his hand. He noticed that and he tucked it away immediately.

And then his hand shot forward and he grabbed my uninjured hand and started to drag me inside the house.

I had lost the energy to fight anymore. All I could care about was how much it was paining.

And I don't think so he is going to do something about it.

He dragged me inside the house and took me upstairs to my room and once I was inside, he went away locking the door.

Seriously? Does he want me to bleed to death?

Deciding not to ponder about him, I walked to the bathroom and ran my hand under the water washing away the blood but it was of no use because the wound was deep and it needed stitching.

I started to search the drawers to find something to apply over it at least but it was of no use.

Guess I am going to bleed to death only.

As I was about to curse him, I heard the room door open and I peeked out of the bathroom to see him enter with a first aid kit and a bottle of water which he kept on the nightstand.

Really?

He saw me peeking from the bathroom and walked to me gesturing me to move inside. Not in a mood to argue, I obeyed him.

He placed the kit on the counter and bending down, grabbed the back of my thighs with one hand and lifting me placed me on the counter making me yelp.

"You could have told me to sit on the counter." I complained but he didn't say anything.

He shoved my legs apart and stepped in between them and my heart quickened its speed on our close proximity.

His eyes were solely focused on my forearm while I couldn't help but stare at him in shock.

He grabbed my forearm, pulling it closer and the gentleness in his touch surprised me. He examined the wound for a few seconds and proceeded to pull out a needle and a thread from the kit to stitch.

I have been stitched before and fuck, it hurts a lot but the main thing was that he was willing to treat me himself. I seriously expected him to leave me to die.

But I guess I play an important part in his game.

The moment he started stitching a whimper escaped me and he glanced up at me with a poker face before continuing to stitch. I bit my lips to stop any further noise to escape my mouth.

This man was stitching my wound. He kidnapped me for fuck sake and here he is treating me.

When he was almost done, only a stitch or two was left, he spoke up, his eyes still focused on stitching. "I didn't do it deliberately." Didn't do deliberately what? Slice my arm?

Is he trying to explain his actions?!

"I don't care." I rolled my eyes.

His jaw clenched and he didn't say anything else and finished stitching and cleaned the excess blood with a clean cloth and handed me a tablet which looked like a pain killer.