Surviving Stirling

Chapter Twenty One

Sunlight streamed through the blinds to sever the dark haze of night. My dreams faded into the vapour of my mind but somehow I still knew they were the reason my body was flushing its heat downward.

How messed up is that?

He tells me that he murders people and I still have sex dreams about him.

I let my feet hit the floor, eager to check on Stirling because in all honesty I was worried he wouldn't make it through the night.

The fact he didn't wake me up with one of his nightmares clamped tightly on the rising rush of panic that erupted.

I burst through his door just as he was sat up unsuspectingly in bed, lowering a sweatshirt over his chest.

"I see you don't knock before barging into my room, looks like you're finally part of the family."

I resisted a cringe that nearly broke the surface, I fully expected him to be sleeping - or dead.

He looked worse today, if that was even possible. The colours had come out in full force but the swelling had gone down, he was now able to open his eyes fully but fuck, that beautiful face was destroyed by so many bruises, lumps and bumps.

I strolled over there with all of the concern in the world etched onto my face. Without saying anything I grabbed the edge of his t-shirt and rose it up getting a good look at his torso.

"Hey!" He pushed my hand away.

"I'm just checking."

He grabbed the edge of my sweatshirt and copied me, yanking the material up to my bra line.

"Hey!" I pushed his hand away and he offered me the slightest amused smile.

"Just checking." I shook my head at him.

My thoughts were conflicted, I ought to think differently of him. I should be more scared, I should hate him. I should see him how the rest of the town sees him.

Yet, following his confession nothing had really changed. He was still the same Stirling he had always been, still my best friend's troubled brother.

He used his thumb to pull my lip out from being nibbled on by my teeth, "I hate it when you do that."

What the fuck?

Really slowly like his whole body was too stiff to move, he shrugged on his jacket like he planned to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Out. I can't just lay around, I've got things to do and Kingsley doesn't want me here, remember?"

"Stirling you have broken ribs I'm sure of it, you need to stay in bed and let your body do what it's supposed to do, heal. I'll deal with Kingsley."

"I can't just stay here, I have places to be, people relying on me."

"Take a week," I slipped his jacket down his shoulders, stepping forward so he had no choice but to step backwards.

In the midsts of all those bruises, two blue eyes gleamed at me with allure. I removed his jacket all the while intentionally walking him back towards the bed.

"Those places and people can wait, you're no use broken."  I placed my hand on his chest and gave him a gentle push to sit on the mattress.

He looked up at me expectantly, "this is not how I imagined you taking off my clothes and pushing me down onto the bed."

It took a second to absorb his words and then I flinched a little at that thought but then so did he, like he never meant to speak it. 

"One should not be imagining such things."