Battlescars [Tord X Reader]

Chapter 7

      Her fingers gingerly flipped on the light in the bathroom. Before Tord, the battered up thief; entered, her eyes grew fixated on herself in the mirror. The bags under her eyes seemed a little more prominent than normal. She looked like shit. Had she even taken a shower yet? No. No she hadn't. (Y/N) was so groggy that she had almost forgotten. The woman had not showered because she was worried that the man in her living room may stumble in, or worse, may go full Norman Bates mode, butcher knife and all. Man those old movies were good.

     There was a piece of hair in her mouth. Lovely.  As the tallish and lanky man walked in, she pulled it out with a hint of disgust. His eye glanced around the tiny bathroom, sitting down on the edge of the white bathtub. 

     The white bandage over his right eye was dirtied and worn. With the unflattering light over his face, her eyes rested upon the countless scars on his right side. They ran down his face; all seeming to be connected, like his veins were on the outside of his body. The skin was so irritated; it boiled. There were a few flecks of flesh missing from his cheek. 

     She must have been staring for a too long because he self consciously turned his head away from her view. For his somewhat lanky body, lean muscles were apparent on his upper arm and forearm. She didn't expect that of him for some reason. He seemed like more of the schemer than the brawn of some devious plot he had cooking up.

     There were dark purple bruises that were beginning to turn a sickening yellow. He looked even more of a wreck than she did. His lip was cut up, swollen. A few smears of blood here and there on his face. There was a large cut under his eye which had dried blood that looked black now as it tried to heal itself.

     Finally, after taking in how badly beaten he was, she sighed. "Okay. Do you have any other places that are bleeding that should not be bleeding?"

     His eye trailed over to her in confusion. Tord's face scrunched into a 'what the hell?' kind of look.

     (Y/N) ignored the stare that he was giving her as she opened up the cabinet/mirror. Inside were bandages, gauze, needles and strings, and other assorted drugs. And...some Casper the Ghost band-aids. One of them said, "Get rid of that Boo-Boo!". What the hell. 

     "I was kicked in the stomach. Many times. But I don't think it is bleeding." His voice cut through the awkward silence. 

     "What", the girl scoffed as she pulled out the painkiller pills, "You owe the mafia the money in that guy's wallet?" There was an uncomfortable silence once again. "Please don't tell me you owed the mafia the money in that man's wallet. From the joke about stealing cars, to showing up like you just crawled up from Hell to my doorstep, I don't even know what type of petty criminal you are."