Subdue-X

Melting Crimson

I hurried my pace as the bus pulled up to the station, the cold night air stinging my lungs with each breath. Someone was already boarding, and I waved my arm, desperate not to be left behind. The doors hissed open, and I slipped inside just as they were about to close. I collapsed into the nearest seat, pulling my sleeve over my nose and mouth, trying to stifle the metallic taste that was gurgling up from my throat.

The man across from me shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting between me and the bus driver, who glanced back through the rearview mirror with a tense expression. No one really appreciates abnormalities, especially this late at night. I must’ve looked like something out of a nightmare—bloodied, disoriented, and barely holding myself together.

The man dug into his pockets, pulling out a crumpled handful of napkins. His clothes were filthy, the oversized brown jacket and black sweats frayed along the seams. He wore a red beanie that was slightly askew, and despite his rough appearance, there was a surprising kindness in his eyes.

“Here,” he muttered, holding out the napkins.

I hesitated for a moment before accepting them, unsure how to feel about this small act of kindness. Balling them up, I pressed them to my nose and lip, the paper quickly soaking through. I couldn’t even tell where I was bleeding the most, but it didn’t matter. I just needed to stop the flow.

“Thanks,” I managed to utter, my voice muffled and stuffed in my head, sounding foreign even to myself.

He nodded, his gaze softening slightly. “No problem.” His voice was rough, like gravel scraping against concrete, but there was a gentleness to it that caught me off guard. He looked to be around forty, with lines etched deeply into his face, yet his eyes sparkled with an odd sense of vitality.

“Where are you headed?” he asked reluctantly, as if he didn’t really want to pry but felt compelled to fill the silence.

I didn’t want to talk either, but since he’d made the effort, I felt I should at least respond. His question bounced around inside my skull, and my stomach dropped. “I have no idea,” I admitted, my words heavy with exhaustion and a growing sense of dread. The last thing I wanted was to ever find Christian again. “Where am I?”

“Welcome to Toronto,” he chuckled, though it was tinged with disbelief. “Really?”

I couldn’t bring myself to respond, and his smile faded as he looked around the empty bus. His gaze returned to me, concern knitting his brows together. “Are you alright? That’s quite the blow to your head...” He waved a hand vaguely around his own face, indicating my injuries.

“I’m not from here,” I said, my voice coming out nasally and congested. He probably thought I was severely concussed. Maybe I was.

“There’s a hotel at the next station,” he offered, his tone gentle but firm. “Bunk there.”

“Appreciated,” I nodded sharply, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through my skull. He nodded back, and when the bus came to a stop, we both stepped out, standing side by side on the wet pavement for a moment longer.

As I moved to leave, he scooted closer, pulling out more napkins from his pocket and gently pressing one against the scrape over my eyebrow. The contact made me flinch, but his hand was steady and careful.

“That’s not just from running into a wall,” he said quietly, shaking his head as he examined the graze. “I can see the bloody lip and nose from a fall or maybe even a punch, but not this.” He looked me in the eye, his voice firm. “What the hell happened?”

I swallowed hard, my throat burning with unshed tears. “I ran into a wall,” I stuttered dumbly, the words feeling hollow even as they left my mouth.