How to Get Caught Sleeping With Your Teacher

Chapter 4 - Ares Part 2

About an hour had passed since Gillian dropped me off. I was eating a bowl of cereal and flipping through the channels on TV, looking for something to watch. I finally decided on watching How I Met Your Mother when one of Micky's dogs jumped on the love-seat and sat next to me. Micky had four dogs, all jet black German Shepherds that he paid insane amounts of money for. The two females were Circe and Nike, and the two males were Hercules and Percy. The were all larger than the average German Shepherd, but Hercules was the largest; that's how he earned his name. Nike was the newest to this household, as Micky brought her into the house around the same time I moved in with him. His reasoning was that all three of his dogs had already formed a bond with him, and he wanted me to have a dog to bond with and for protection. All four of the dogs had extensive guard dog training with former K-9 unit instructors, which wasn't cheap either. I wasn't exactly sure what Mikhail did for a living, all I knew was that he used to work for my father, and he had a lot of extra money left over, even after he stopped working for him. He had no set work hours, and could work as late as two in the morning or as early as seven in the morning. Anytime anyone Mikhail knew came over, they called him dice. I was never clear as to why they did, and to be honest I was afraid to ask; not afraid of him, just afraid of what his answer would be.

Nike rubbed her head against my leg covered by a microfiber blanket. That was her signal for me to pet her, and I did as she asked. After a couple minutes of silent petting with the TV playing in the background, I heard a vicious pound at the door. I quickly rose from my seat in the living room and walked to the kitchen with Nike following closely behind me. I stopped to grab the 9mm Beretta duct taped to the underneath of one of the pull out drawers. 

I felt its weight in my hand, the metal cold and slightly sticky from the lengthy grasp of the duct tape. I creeped towards the front door to find the other three dogs sitting at the door watching it carefully, ready to pounce. Nike fell in line with the other dogs and watched patiently. I snaked around the line of defense and to the door. We didn't have a peep hole, so I had no way of knowing what lied behind it.

I silently prayed to myself. There was another ferocious pound at the door before  I yanked it open with my left hand, and held the gun raised with my right. I was perplexed to see none other than a bloodied Micky holding his right arm and leaning against the door frame. He pushed past me and my puzzled expression as soon as I opened the door. The dogs whimpered at him, knowing he was hurt. He limped straight to the kitchen, where he collapsed himself on top of the oversized island.

"What the hell happened to you?" I practically yelled as I ran to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of unopened vodka. 

"I was shot." He said sharply, still holding his arm. Coming back to the island, I set down the bottle and jiggled at his belt buckle until I could get it off. By the time I yanked off his belt, he'd already maneuvered his shirt off to reveal his bloody arm with a large hole in it and I quickly examined his wound.

"I think I can see the bullet. I'm going to try and get it out." I said before I moved his arm above his heart and wrapped the belt as a tourniquet around his arm just above the wound to prevent any further blood loss.

"Don't pass out okay?" I said before running to the upstairs bathroom to grab supplies. Taking two steps at a time back downstairs, I noticed the dogs had moved from their position at the door to around the island in the kitchen. Mikhail was laying on his back staring up at the ceiling and I ran back over to the island.

"You're not in shock are you?" I asked, almost sarcastically.

"No." He replied dryly.

"How long ago did you get shot?" I asked him, unscrewing the lid on the vodka. 

"About thirty minutes a--" Mikhail was cut off by his own screams as I poured the alcohol over the wound.

"Sorry." I whispered. I poured more alcohol on the rag and wiped away the dried blood so I could see his wound better. Setting the rag aside, I sterilized the tweezers with more vodka. 

"Micky, look, if I can't get this out, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital." I said softly, knowing it wouldn't please Micky.

He leaned up on his elbow and grabbed my arm as he made intense eye contact with me. "You are not taking me to the fucking hospital." He hissed with fire in his eyes. Mikhail wasn't intimidating all the time, but he had the ability to change his facial expression to have everyone in the room sweating within seconds. With ruffled dark hair and eyes to match, an aura of caliginosity enveloped him. 

I looked at him for a moment. "Whatever." I said, pushing him back down on the counter. "You're just lucky it didn't hit any bone." I added. I leaned down over him, holding my hand with the tweezers in it as steady as someone pulling a bullet out possibly can. I dug the tweezers in, and felt Mikhail's body tense up as he groaned. My field of vision was limited, so I had to mostly rely on the tip of the tweezers to feel around for a hard piece of metal. When I finally did find the bullet, I found that it wasn't in very deep, but deep enough to cause a considerable amount of pain on Micky's part. He'd been lucky enough to not have the bullet break up in to pieces. I'd gotten out a small dish in anticipation of having to discard bullet fragments, but instead I just dropped the entire bullet in the dish. 

I quickly clean the wound again before threading a needle to suture the hole. I began stitching up the wound and he screamed out again so I scolded him to stay still. It didn't take me long to stitch it up, and once I did I used medical tape to attach a piece of gauze to it. 

"There you go. Good as new." I said.

"Thanks, Kita." He responded.

"Yeah , yeah." I scoffed, walking out of the kitchen. Of course I wondered why he was shot, who shot him and what he was doing when he got shot, amongst many other pestering questions. I decided not to ask questions right then and left it for another time.