She can tell those three words turn me on and I know she's trying to hide a smile. Slowly, her hand travels up my chest, starting at my lower abdomen, and working up to the center-making me want to shiver at her light caress. She sticks out her fing...
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An abdominal wound. A fucking abdominal injury. Blood is pouring from Reid's gut, soaking his body and pooling in the folds of his rumpled clothes. My hands are slicked with blood holding the wound, trembling with the realization that I have his life in my hands and I could easily let him die right here.
I start to cut his clothes to get at the wound. "You stupid son of a bitch." I say. "I'm not letting you die on my kitchen floor where my son likes to play with trucks. It's not happening." I go over to the sink to wash my hands, properly cleaning them and not giving him an infection.
I grab a clean cloth from the bathroom and the first aid kit from under the sink and rummage around for gauze. I press the warm soaked cloth to his wound with gently applied pressure to stop the bleeding. I look at his face, and his eyes start to close.
"Oh no, you don't," I say before slapping him on the cheek. "Wake up," I demand, and he looks at me. He's clearly not all there as his eyes bounce around the room, unable to settle on one thing until they see me. "This will hurt like a bitch, and I'm not sorry," I say as I clean the wound.
Reid hisses through his teeth as I clean his skin, wiping away the drying blood. He tries to push me away, but I remain focused on having him not die of blood loss. I pin his hands with my knee on his upper chest, and he whimpers in agony.
"Then stop fucking moving." I grab the small tube of Neosporin, apply a thin layer of it to the wound and surrounding skin, and finally cover it with gauze and some medical tape. His eyes are still open and focused on me. He hasn't tried to talk, so I'm guessing the pain is too numbing to even attempt to. It's gonna be hell trying to get him up and onto the couch. "Auggie, come here for a second," I yell and start to clean up his cut shirt.
I hear the click of the lock on the bedroom door, and tiny footsteps make their way over to me. I turn to my son and smile, asking, "Floor or couch?"
"What do you mean, momma?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowing and looking at the man looking at us.
"Pick one. Floor or couch."
"Um, floor?"
"Alright then," I point to the couch and say, "Grab me that blanket and a pillow."
He does what I ask and brings them to me. I pick Spencer's head up and place the pillow underneath it, and Auggie helps me spread the blanket on top of him.
"Mumma, is the strange man gonna sleep on the floor all night?"
"Yup! The strange man is going to sleep on our floor. And we'll sleep in our nice, warm, comfy bed!"
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