Crazy In Love | Buggy

t w e n t y - f o u r

The doctor's words rang repeatedly in my head for the rest of my stitches. It distracted me from the pain, in an odd way. The thought continued even as she was finishing off the stitches, and even as she was washing the blood off of me.

'he told me that he would kill me and everyone I loved if I didn't save your life,' kept repeating over and over again.

It made me nauseous, and confused as he'll. How could he be so sweet and caring towards me, yet so cruel and heartless the rest of the time? It felt like two different people. As if he had a split personality or something. My brain couldn't come to terms with the fact that the same man who had done all of those bad things, had just cried at the sight of me injured.

The best rationalisation I could do was to think that he had only said it because he was scared. Scared of me dying. He was trying to save me. I should be grateful. But, deep down, I knew that Buggy really was that cruel.

This wasn't the first time that he had done something cruel. If he didn't care about someone, he really didn't care about them. I knew that, deep down, if she had refused his command, she would be very dead right now.

"You're done," she told me, suddenly.

I looked down at my chest. The sight of it was horrifying, even without all of the blood. There was a wound stretching from under one of my breasts, then all the way up my chest, reaching to just above my collar bone.

The wound was big, and bad. I hoped that, with the stitches, it would heal well. The idea of having this gigantic scar for the rest of my life was horrible. Yet, compared to the other option, which was allowing the old man to be killed, it was the better option.

Suddenly, I became away of my lack of clothing. My entire leather suit had been removed. I was wearing nothing except from my bra and my underwear.

My face flushed bright red at that realisation. "What happened to my clothes?"

"I couldn't do the stitches with it on so the clown used a knife and cut it off."

She gestured to the bin, where I could see the scraps of red and black leather. Then, I got the mental image of Buggy slicing my clothes off of me. It was embarrassing, to think he had seen me so naked. In only my underwear and bra. Yet, I knew it wasn't a sexual thing.

It had been necessary, for the stitches. He was probably so panicked that he hadn't even looked at me like that. Plus, with all of the blood, which had stained through my bra completely, my body probably hadn't looked very appealing.

Buggy had saved my life. What an odd thought. So had this doctor. I owed her one. My mind suddenly fell on to her father. Was he alright? Even she wouldn't know. I felt oddly responsible.

"Do you have any spare clothes?" I asked as I slowly attempted to sit up.

Panic spread across the woman's face. In a hurried voice, she said, "Hey, you shouldn't do that -"

"I need to go back into town. Get me clothes, please."

She laughed, as if what I was saying was ridiculous. It was. But I still had to do it.

"That obviously cannot happen. You need rest. You won't even be able to walk -"

"You said that man was your Father, right?"

She was silent for a moment, avoiding eye contact. I could see the pain and conflict written across her face. "Yes, he is."

"I need to make sure he's alright - that everyone back there are alright. Buggy will listen to me. He'll stop what his men are doing."