You're Different to Me

What happened?

I awoke in the same field, that I had been for the past few days. My body felt broken, and my hope felt shattered. I was alone, bleeding, choking, and in a mind-numbing amount of pain. All I could do, was lay back and look at the stars. I heard a soft crunching noise, of footsteps in the grass. It was him again, the white-masked man. He held my face with trembling hands, fueled with rage. That was the first time I heard him speak.
"FUCK"
I was honestly taken aback. I didn't think I would ever hear him speak. I lifted my hand to hold his wrist to try and show him I was okay... at least mostly. I couldn't manage to reach him, the pain was too much, and my arm fell back to the ground. His hands became bloody, just from touching me. I genuinely could not tell what was running through his mind. His shaking worsened. He took off his leather jacket and laid it across me like a blanket. He stood and clenched his fist tightly. Without a word, he disappeared. I couldn't focus on much, as I continued to lay there and breathe. I might have fallen asleep for a little, or phased in and out of consciousness. I heard the sounds of grunting, seemingly growing louder, I didn't bother to look. I felt a loud thud through the ground next to me. I turned my head to look, it was the skull-masked man from the trial... the one who murdered me. I went to move, trying to get away when I felt a familiar touch on my shoulder. He had come back and brought the man who hurt me.
"Look what you fucking did." He yelled, surprising me that he spoke again.
"I didn't know man I didn't know!" The man on the ground stammered as a punch cracked against his skull.
"Frank I'm sorry! Please, man!"
Frank grabbed him by the collar and threw him hard to the ground again.
The brutality was unexpected, I seemed to have forgotten who Frank really was. I seemed to have forgotten that he too, has hurt me before.
It didn't seem to matter to me now, I had already felt a safeness I'd never felt anywhere in this place, and I had no further reason to doubt him.
Frank looked down at the other man, glaring at him, "Get your fucking hands off my property Joey, there won't be a next time." Frank picked up Joey by his arm and shoved him in the direction they came from. Joey stumbled and limped away quickly. I looked up at Frank, barely able to keep my eyes open. He fell to his knees, clutching me in his embrace.
"I'm okay" I managed to get out.
"No, you're not, he fucking killed you." He said with a hoarseness in his voice.
"But I'm right here." I managed to smile the best I could through the pain.
"I'm not letting anyone hurt you ever again." He squeeze me tighter, and I winced in pain. He flinched and loosened his grip. He moved to the side to sit next to me. He carefully lifted me into his lap and held me.
"Can I take care of you?" He asked seemingly begging.
I nodded, as he cradled my head into his shoulder with his left arm. He began to clean my wounds with his right, it stung, but I didn't tell him that.
He took great care in tending to me. He always managed to keep me in a mostly upright position, normally against his body.
"I'm going to need to stitch you up, I'm sorry but it has to be done." He said trying to be empathetic. I teared up a little, being terrified of needles, but honestly, how could this be any worse than I'd already experienced? He laid me on my side, thankfully, it was almost fully healed. He went to lift my hoodie, to reach my back wound, then the large gash on my chest. He hesitated and glanced at me.
"It's okay," I whispered, as he carefully lifted the bloodied fabric out of the way. He started on my back. I flinched every time I felt the needle enter my skin. He seemed to take notice, after every few sutures, he would pause and massage my head. He continued until he had finished the last one. He applied the dressing and carefully helped me sit up. He sat with his legs out, using them to hold my body while my head and next rested against his shoulder. He used his should to hold me upright without my back being directly against him, and he began to cleanse the wound on my chest. He seemed hesitant again. I laughed slightly, but it came out pained.
"It's okay, I trust you," I said, hoping he'd really understand. That statement seemed to puzzle him like he had never heard it before. After thinking for a few seconds, he continued. He carefully pulled up my hoodie, somewhat exposing the underside of my breasts. He purposely remained focused on the task at hand and started to suture me again. It seemed to feel less painful over time, and it went by much faster. It took him a few hours until he felt satisfied with his patchwork. He looked me in the eyes, I concentrated to meet his gaze, still cradled in his left shoulder. He reached up with his bloodied hand, from dressing my wounds, and carefully touched his mask. With hesitation, he pushed his fingers upwards revealing more of his face than I'd seen before. He gently moved his hand to hold my chin, his lips collided with mine, and a warm, healing feeling washed over my body.