His Perfect Wife Strikes Back

52 How Do I Get Back?

My mouth was full of the smell of dust and gunpowder, and my heart was pounding. I opened my eyes to see the ground was full of blown-out rubble and indistinguishable blackened objects. It took a while for the man who was protecting me to roll over.

He coughed softly, and I turned to see that the silver mask on his face was stained with gray dust. If he hadn't pulled me away in time, I think I would have been blown to pieces by now.

"Are you all right, Daley?" I looked around and slowly got up to make sure there were no more explosions around. At first, my legs were still a little stiff. I didn't know if I was lying on the ground for too long or because I was afraid.

"I'm fine." Daley pulled me off the ground. He scanned the chaos around him with calm eyes. His eyes were fixed on the iron door destroyed by the bomb, and after a few seconds he looked up in the direction of the car just now. I saw anger in his eyes.

It was a look of hatred I had never seen before. On the surface, his eyes are a calm swamp, but if anyone dares to step into it, he will be engulfed in the bottomless mud.

"Your hand is bleeding!" I then discovered that one of his arms had been cut with blood, and the blood ran down his arm to his fingertips. A drop of blood was hanging from his pinky.

He did not answer me, his golden eyes still looking in the direction of the shadow of the tree. Rita ran from the corner of the house and screamed when she saw the injured Daley.

"Oh, Daley. You're hurt!" Rita's eyes were full of fear. "Get back to the house. It's not safe!"

Daley averted his gaze and his face darkened as he walked towards the house. Rita sobbed quietly behind him. And I didn't want to leave as impulsively as I had, because I had just seen what a bomb could do. So I had to follow them.

"Rita, you go get Chris," said Daley, sitting on the sofa as he tried to open the medicine box with one hand. Because I was apologetic, I offered to help him open the medicine box and get out the gauze and disinfectant.

"But I have to stay and take care of you!" Rita whispered. "I can't leave you alone!"

"Do as I say, now!" Daley glared at Rita and she obeyed immediately.

"What can I do for you?" I apologized. "I'm sorry about what happened."

"Even if you don't leave, they're going to throw a bomb at my house. So it's none of your business," Daley said as he wiped the wound with a cotton ball laced with medical alcohol.

He treated his wound quickly. I could hardly see any expression of pain on his face. He was so quick that he finished dressing the wound without my help. I felt even more guilty, and I wanted to do something to make him forget what I had said in the garden. But there was nothing I could do.

"That explosion is just the beginning, and there are more dangers lurking on this island than you cann't imagine," he said. "You have to stay at home for a while, but if you insist on leaving, I won't hold you back."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could stay." My voice softened. I knew I couldn't take any more chances.

"Do you think the Karr brothers made that bomb?" I asked.

"That must be them. There's vodka in the fridge. Can you get me one?" He leaned back on the sofa. "One olive and two mint leaves, please!"

I did, and he took a swig of vodka. And then he looked at me, "Earlier in the garden, you were angry with me for leaving, weren't you? Maybe I offended you, but I was telling the truth. To survive on this island, you have to learn to control your emotions."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I appreciate you saving my life again just now. I owe you."

"And what have you decided to give me in return?" His tone was not a joke, but I could see the smile on his lips, just for a moment.

"Maybe I can help you kill the Karr brothers," I said half-jokingly. "After all, their names are on my death list. We have a common enemy."

"The death list?" He said, showing an interest in my death list. "So who's on your list?"

"My father!" I whispered, looking outside.

"Funny." He laughed. "I hope my name doesn't end up on your death list."

"I don't know," I joked, "As long as you don't annoy me anymore."

He didn't speak. He had just finished the rest of the wine in his glass.

"You don't look like a local. Are you from America?" I asked. His skin was tan from the sun, unlike the Karr brothers' . And his English is very authentic, I guess he is American, or used to be.

His hand played with the empty glass, and it took him a moment to answer.

"The people who come here are all abandoned by their families. I have long forgotten the name of my hometown." His voice was calm but sad. "We are all homeless people."

"Why don't you want to go back?" I approached him. "Maybe we can go back to America together. I'm sure there will be people who miss you there."

"No one will miss me, no one." He sneered at me, "And neither will you."

I don't like his sudden change of attitude. But this time I held back my anger. I tried to persuade him calmly.

"Come with me and we'll find our way home."

"I'm not going anywhere. No one can go back." He said coldly. "The customs police will deport people who have no legal identity as stowaways."

I almost forgot I didn't have a passport. Now I'm just a person with no identity. How do I get back?

"Help me. As long as you help me back, I will repay you." I squatted beside him, with a begging tone, "You will have a way, right?"

He looked down at me and our eyes met. I saw my own reflection in his golden eyes, and at that moment I had an illusion. A familiar feeling arose, as if an attraction was pulling us closer together.

I smelled the remnants of gunpowder in his clothes. The Adam's apple on his neck was moving slowly. We looked at each other in silence. His mask gleamed silvery, and his half-exposed face was calm.

He ran his fingers down my forehead and gently stroked my cheeks, lips, and chin. Then he lifted my chin with his fingers and let me near him.