Guilty

Juliette

I'm jolted awake when I hear two abrupt knocks on my door in the middle of the night.

I scramble out of bed and open the door, I know it's Zane. It's always Zane knocking at my door in the middle of the night because he's hurt. Again.

I don't, however, expect him to be in the state he's in at my doorstep. He stumbles in through my door collapsing on my bed.

"Zane," I say panicked rushing over to him and turning the lamp on.

The rooms flooded with light and my jaw drops at the site of him. His nose has dried blood running out of it and his lip is swollen. He's clutching his side and when I lift his shirt he's black and blue. He could have broken ribs for all I know.

"Zane please let me call an ambulance," I plead with him. Panic surging through me.

He shakes his head trying to sit up, "I have a...bad concussion that's it."

That's it? That's it?

"Juliette," Zane says hoarsely and tears prick at my eyes.

My god, what the hell happened to him?

He's clutching at his sides, looking up at me. I run to shut my door and then I turn to face him again, "Shh, lie back okay? And close your eyes," I instruct him, quietly as I push him back so he's lying on my bed.

I take his shoes off to try and make him more comfortable and I help him pull his shirt off so I can better assess his injuries:

He shivers a little, "Are you hot or cold?" I ask him.

"Fucking freezing," He mutters. I bite my lip before turning on my portable heater and angling it at him. He stops shivering at him as the hot air shoots out.

I immediately get to work by wetting a paper towel and cleaning the blood off Zane's face which he lets me do with minimal wincing on his end. He closes his eyes and I snap my fingers, "Don't go to sleep. Stay awake, I'm going to ask you some fun questions."

"I think I'd rather die," He murmurs and I give him a sharp look. He sighs and nods as I look in the mini freezer for cold things I can put on him.

I find a bag of frozen peas and hold it on his ribs. I use a bag of froes to help the swelling on his head. Zane's far too tired to argue with me about it. I wish I could take a photo of this for blackmail purposes.

"Favourite colour?"

"Green, it's a somewhat recent development," He says.

"What's...your favourite word?"

"Who the fuck has a favourite word?"

"Mine is linguini," I say, looking at him. Zane bursts into laughter that briefly lights his entire face up. For a brief moment, he goes from looking like the devil I often see him as and turns into an angel sent from heaven. I swallow dryly and try not to look at him with an awestruck expression.

"Okay...favourite word is...pesto. I like the way it sounds," He tells me.

His concussion can't be too bad, he seems right. Everything given.

I find some pain medicine at the bottom of my drawer and give it to Zane. I have no idea how strong or useful it is but it's the best thing I have. I'm meant to be a lawyer, not a damn nurse.

I check to see if his nose is still bleeding and am glad to find it's not.

"I'm going to push on your ribs okay? And you need to tell me where it hurts. And don't be all tough because if you've broken anything we have to know" I tell him, sternly.