I Will Hold Your Hand Gently

Chapter 21: Concern For His Sister

A Few Weeks Before The Festival

A young man covered in blood staggered on his footing as he leaned against the wall to steady himself. There was a deep gash running across from his right shoulder to the tip of his right middle finger. Blood drips down to the ground trailing behind him as he pushes himself to move with the wall supporting him. With each breath he took, his vision grew darker on him. From afar, the clamor of enraged voices searching for him could be heard.

Despite the fatigue and miasma building inside of him, he kept pushing himself forward. He needed to return. Someone was waiting for him, and he had been gone for too long. He kept telling himself to keep going. Just one more step and he would be home, in a warm safe place. Before he could reach home, however, his body betrayed him. He slumps down against the wall with blood. He could feel his body turning cold as time passed. He had lost too much blood. With his last breath, he mumbled out, "I'm sorry... Lucia."

The young man opens his eyes to what he believes is the afterlife. Strangely enough, he could still feel pain in his arm, and the rough dryness in his mouth. He tries to get up but the piercing pain coming from his injuries makes it difficult to do so. He took in a deep breath, looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. He was lying on top of a bed with a blanket over him. He thought for sure he'd died back then, so why was he still alive?

The sound of the door creaking open catches his attention. He quickly closed his eyes to pretend he was still asleep. He could hear light footsteps approaching the bed. Smoothing cool hand placed itself upon his forehead as a woman spoke, "Good, you're fever went down."

Her voice didn't sound familiar to him and he didn't sense any malice from her. He decided to open his eyes slowly as though he had just woken up. She lightly flinches back from seeing him awake, pulling her hand away from his forehead. At first, she was surprised to see him awake, but she softly smiled at him.

"Are you feeling hurt anywhere?" she asked in a soft voice.

She appeared utterly ordinary at first glance, with freckles dotting her face, dark wavy shoulder-length hair, and vibrant hazel eyes with a tint of green lining. However, a captivating natural beauty emanated from her, momentarily stealing his breath. Swiftly regaining his composure, he shook his head in response to her question.

With a gentle sigh of relief, she smiles sweetly at him, saying, "I'm so relieved. Discovering you unconscious on my doorstep was quite frightening. You lost so much blood, I thought that you wouldn't pull it through, especially with that high fever."

He wanted to ask her how long he was asleep but only a cough came out. It felt like she knew what he was going to ask so she answered him, "You've been asleep for a week. That's why you can't speak with a parched throat."

Heading towards the side table adjacent to the head of the bed, she pours a cup of water for him. Before giving him the cup of water to clench his parched throat, she assists him in sitting up to avoid further averaging his injuries. He drinks the water as though he has been walking through the desert for the past few days. He finished the cup in three gulps before asking for more. She happily poured him more water until he felt satisfied. When his throat no longer felt dry, he placed the cup back on the side table. He bows to her with his head low, "Thank you for saving me. I will do everything in my power to repay this debt."

Taken aback by his gesture, she hastily waves her hand in front of herself, saying, "Oh, there's no need for that."

"You've saved my life," he said without lifting his head, "It is only right for me to repay it."

"It's only natural to help those in need," she said.

He pondered when he had last heard such words from another human being. Throughout his life, nobody had shown concern for him or his younger sister's survival. He had shouldered the responsibility of protecting them from danger and starvation alone. The latest job he had undertaken was supposed to lift them out of poverty, off the streets, and into a fresh start. He did not expect to get stabbed in the back and used as a scapegoat. Had he known that the job involved murdering a noble, he would have backed off?