Remember Me [Jalex]

.13.

Just a short one today, I'll have a new chapter up soon. Maybe tomorrow or something. 

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On the drive home, I realised that my jacket was soaked through with blood from my wound. The scarlet patch wasn't spreading but it was a noticeably large mark on my hoodie. I touched it lightly and spots of blood came off onto my fingertips.

Jack caught me looking at it. "We'll have a look at it when we get home," he said quietly.

We reached our front door and I was more than eager to get upstairs and into the soft sheets that awaited. I didn't know what injuries I had sustained nor the severity of them but they made climbing up steps was a lot harder than it was supposed to be. My lungs were straining against tired ribs and the wound on my stomach wasn't doing me any favours.

Jack led me past the bed and into the bathroom. He made me sit down on the toilet and instructed me to take off my clothes. Meanwhile, he filled the sink with warm water and gathered various first aid tools from the cupboard. I took a deep breath and braced myself for ugly. Not letting myself think anymore, I ripped my shirt off and threw it on top of my already discarded jacket.

The wound wasn't too bad. All its progress in healing was thrown out the window, though. It was red and raw as the first day I saw it. A mess of blood, both dried and fresh, and other gross things that came out of a wound was surrounding it. The cut was no longer a clean line but a pair of swollen, puckered lips around exposed flesh. The stitches were snapped and ripped out at some places.

My torso was one big bruise trailing up from the stab wound to my ribcage with smaller purple splotches on the side as decoration. From the feel of things, my back was also badly beaten. My face was numb and my lip was swollen on one side. When I touched my tongue to it, I tasted blood. My arms weren't spared either. Throughout the ordeal, I had used them to protect my head from the worst of the kicking and punching and they bore signs of it.

With a soaked towel in hand, Jack knelt down in front of me to have a look at my body. Immediately, his face went hard and there was a faint scowl on his forehead. He looked almost as scary as he did back at the warehouse. He was angry, I knew. He wasn't angry at me or even Carlile and his gang. He was angry at himself.

Reaching out a sore arm, I touched the side of his face and he met my eyes. "It's not your fault," I told him gently.

"Should've had someone keep an eye on you," he grumbled. "These streets aren't exactly safe."

"I know that now," I chuckled lightly. "I'm a grown man, Jack. There's only so much you can do to keep me out of danger."

Jack sighed and sat back on his haunches. "I guess I owe you an explanation," he said. "About Carlile and everything."

I shook my head. "You don't have to explain anything, I know what's going on," I cut in.

"Did Carlile tell you?" Jack asked, looking concerned.

I shook my head again. "I figured it out myself," I replied.

"You remembered," Jack realised. "Everything?"

"Everything," I confirmed. "From back when we were kids until that fight with Carlile's men when I got stabbed and knocked out."

Jack nodded but said no more about the matter. He leaned in and pushed me back so he had better access to my wound. "Tell me if it hurts," he said and he pressed the warm towel to my stomach.

It didn't hurt too much besides from the pressure of the bruises around but it was bearable. He wiped the area clean first with warm water then with some disinfectant. It stung like hell. I hissed in pain when the cool liquid came into contact with the exposed nerve endings on my wound. Tears sprung in my eyes and I held my breath until it was over and Jack stuck a bandage over it.

Jack stood up temporarily to rinse the towel and I sat back up, swiftly wiping away the tears that had been hanging in the corners of my eyes. Jack came back down to eye level and brought the towel to my face. As he gently wiped the dust and sweat of my beaten up face, I saw his eyes go sad.

"Dear god, what did they do to my perfectly gorgeous face? I must be really ugly now," I joked, looking to lighten his mood.

He huffed grimly, his serious demeanour not waning. "Quite the contrary, I think it's a great improvement," he quipped back, moving the towel from my cheek to my busted lip.

I chuckled softly and a small smile betrayed him. "You break my heart," I told him as he busied himself with the rest of my face.

He put down the towel and swept my hair away from my face with a finger. "There, all done," he announced but neither of us moved from our places.

"Thank you," I said.

"No problem," he replied. He leaned in and kissed my forehead before murmuring, "Go to bed and get some rest. I'll clean up here."

"Okay."

We both stood up and Jack turned to wash the towel in the sink for a second time. As I walked past, I gave him a fleeting peck on the cheek and left before he could respond. When I peeped back into the bathroom, I saw the small smile on his lips as he went about his business and I revelled in the fact that I was the one who put it there. 

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Is the ending cute enough? I hope so. I quite like it. 

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I'll see you soon.