Kill Me Softly

Chapter 11 Sienna

Fuck my head hurts like a bitch.

And what's that god awful sound? A fucking chainsaw?

I struggle to open my eyes and kind of freak a little when I can't open my left one at all but slowly, like pealing a scab off, my right eye opens.

Well as best I can anyway.

Not turning my head at all I look around the room through my half open eye and try to make out where the fuck I am. I'm not strapped to the bed, so I take that as a good sign.

But fuck even breathing is killing me right now. Gritting my teeth I fight off the pain as I breathe in and out.

Distract yourself.

Thankfully the sound that hasn't ceased since I awoke is coming from my left so I ever so gently turn my body, biting my lip to the point of drawing blood to withhold my scream of pain, and see none other than Killian Webber with his mouth wide open. And snoring so fucking loud it rattles the walls.

I release a breathe that I didn't even know I was holding as I watch him. Settling in at the angle I'm in, I watch as his chest expands before it collapses on itself again. As his tattooed hand that lays next to mine on my bed twitches every once in a while, like he's reaching for me in his sleep. When I feel my mouth attempt to tug into a smile and the pain makes dots of pain blur my vision I'm not able to hold out.

I whimper softly as I feel tears welling behind both of my eyes but only the left being able to release them. I ball up my fists on either side of me as I stare at the ceiling and will myself to fucking quit crying.

A throat being cleared over Killian's snoring catches my attention but I'm cautious in my movements. I look to where the sound came from and notice that there is another man in my room. He is sitting in the same kind of chair as Killian but he is in the corner of the room, the shadows of the room hiding his face from me.

When I attempt to speak I open my mouth but no words come out, no sound other than what I can only describe as a fucking croak. I try to clear my throat so I can try again but even that is painful right now. Thankfully the stranger seems to take pity on me because he gets up slowly from his chair, like he's afraid to get close to me, before he finally steps into the light.

Whoever he is, the guy is kind of hot. Even feeling like I was hit by a Mack truck, I'm still a woman.

His hair is gorgeous. Thick and curly with volume any girl would kill for. A curly tendril falls into his eye as he makes his way over to my bedside and I want nothing more than to move it out of the way. I make out what I think are dark eyes but it's hard to tell with my sight the way it is. He wears a pair of black slacks paired with a white button up shirt, the top few buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I try not to get stuck on the red blotches of blood that reside in the white fabric.

As the man comes to the table on my right I hear him pour something into what I'm assuming is a cup before I see his arm in my face. Panic ensues for a second because I can't see what he is doing but he must realize this as well because he holds the item up so I can see it.

It is indeed a cup and looks to be filled with water and a white bendy straw poised for me.

As he again lowers the drink for me I don't hesitate this time. Once I feel the straw in between my lips I suck like my life depends on it. As I feel the cool water soothe my dry throat I feel the urge to weep, eyes again filling with tears.

Once I hit bottom he pulls the straw out slowly, gently and I don't see what he does after that. But as he again walks back to his chair I am able to clear my throat this time, wincing when I feel every painful movement involved with the action.