Part One
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They pounded on the door again, louder this time. Castian shut his eyes, forehead pressed to the wall of the shower. Blood mingled with water on the tiles below his feet. A line of fresh red slid down his leg, darkening the rest.
Another knock. They must be banging the door off its hinges if he could hear them over the music, he'd turned it down, but still. The water pounded around him, drumming against his skin and washing away the dirt. It all rinsed down the drain with the blood.
Whoever was at the door continued to knock for a moment, then shouted.
"Castian Cortane open this door!" The voice was angry and male. The doctor, probably. Castian closed his eyes again, slowly turning to put his back against the wall. He slipped down it, sitting in the pool of water and blood. If he wanted in so bad, then he needed to go to the only other person with the key; Taff. But you didn't just bug Taff, not if you were expendable. There are a lot of doctors in the world. Anyway, Taff had to know, Taren would have gone and snitched on him minutes ago, then gotten the doctor. Or maybe Vellis had done that.
The knocking stopped. Angry voices quarreled outside in the common room. Castian picked up the remote, laying on the shower floor, and turned the music back up. 2050's rock blared over the speakers in his room, drowning them out. He felt like screaming again, but didn't have the energy. Blood loss was making his mind slow.
I could just sit here and let it all be over, he thought. Taff would assume if he didn't let the doctor in he was handling it. Castian sighed. He should be. Reaching up, he knocked the shower-head down, fumbling it and getting smacked in the side of the head. On the speakers, someone was rapping in Japanese, Castian couldn't muster the focus to translate. Something about a girl, and utterly unrelateable problem. He thought about turning it down, but it would undermine the statement of the thing.
He moved the shower-head down to his leg, water streaming over it. Closer. Closer. Ahh! Castian screamed, the sound cracking back off the walls before being eaten up by the shrieking music. Pain splintered from the bullet wound, an explosion of fireworks inside his body. Panting, he set the shower-head down. It flopped over to its side, spraying water up. Come on, you have to look to fix it. And you have to fix it.
Swallowing back his nausea, Castian leaned closer to his leg, shifting so he could see it. The wound was a jagged hole in the side of his thigh, right above his knee. It didn't go all the way through. A groan escaped him, sliding through clenched teeth. His jaw had gone so tight his teeth ached.
Castian touched the side of his leg, hot blood coursing down his fingers, following the paths left by the water. It trickled up his wrist and down his arm. He crawled his fingers closer. The room began to tilt. Passing out would be really bad. It would also be just his luck. Could nothing go right?
He touched to side of the hole. A sharp sound broke from somewhere inside his chest. He pulled the skin of his leg back gently till it was taught. Everything was spinning.
The bullet glittered darkly against the red of his blood. It poured out now, like an overturned bottle. He clenched his jaw even tighter, reaching across himself with his injured arm, still burdened by the shackle.
Castian reached into the hole, no longer pulling it open. He pushed against his leg and pulled it out, nails catching at the slippery metal.
It landed on the shower floor with a clatter, loud in his ringing ears despite the music still playing. His breaths were sharp edged. It was fine. It'd be fine if he just didn't pass out. There was... a lot of blood, the shower floor was completely red. He pressed a hand over the bullet hole. Blood squeezed between his fingers, trickling down his hand. His head felt dangerously light.
Come on, you didn't pass out when it went in, don't pass out now. Castian squeezed it harder. He swallowed. God it hurt so much. He'd rather be dead Hays Rifflie than have to deal with it anymore. Castian should have been faster, he should have moved better. If only he could go back and undo it.
The wound throbbed under his hand, drumming his blood out. Watching it move through his fingers was like watching his Link clock move when he was away from the Field; life draining with every second. He should be able to go back. But it didn't work that way. Everything was unfair. Closing it eyes hard, he drew in a heavy breath. There were bandages in his nightstand, and everything else he'd need. Maybe some in the bathroom.
He let his hand slowly drop off, opening his eyes. He needed to get up. The wound was already hurting less. Could a bullet really make a hole in your leg hurt that much more? It itched like hell too. He froze.
The water drops falling down from where the shower-head still poured water up splatted against him. They landed in the blood on his leg, trailing it away. They landed on the bullet hole. And... it trickled off with them.
"What. The. Hell." His voice was strangled. As Castian watched, the blood slid down his leg, revealing a pale scar. Lunging forward, he grabbed the shower-head, pointing it at the wound. It washed away.
He touched the scar and yelped. It hurt still, definitely not as much, but damn. Don't poke fresh, superhuman scars. He did it again anyway, teeth gritted. It was solid, not just the top skin heal. What the hell?
Castian forced himself up, stumbling out of the bloody shower and pulled the handle to stop the water as he went.
His feet slipped on the slick bathroom floor. The towel from in front of the shower was gone. He couldn't remember if it had been there when he went into the shower. Someone had been in his room though. Later, he'd find out who, and kick their ass for it. Later... After some of the bruises from his own beating had faded. Castian glanced into the fogged up mirror. He had a black eye and a split lip? Savages. His chest was covered in blue-black bruises too, and his waist and well... they went all they way down to his feet. Savage, old west bastards. He was not, not going back to their stupid time period, one of the others could go shoot the jackasses, Castian was 100% done. With a capital No, Nu uh, Nope. He'd do it, he'd tell Taff he wouldn't go, look him right in the eyes and say it. Then he'd go anyway. Castian shut his eyes. He leaned on the sink, rubbing the mist from the mirror. His violet eyes stared back from his battered face. Castian touched his tongue to the cut on his lip, watching it stretch. This was humiliating.
What was he going to tell them about the wound? Only one thing could have done that, and if he told... Taff might figure the rest out.
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And so concludes part one! Part two will be up in a day or so, gotta break up these 2,000+ word chapters a little bit, sorrrry.
I hope you enjoyed it, and as always, gimmy a vote if you did! Every one counts and is special to me. Comments are welcome, I mean, unless it's to tell me I'm a crappy writer who should never touch letters again, but I'm sure none of you will do that :P
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An Assassin In Time
Science Fiction(ON HOLD) If time couldn't hold you, what would you do? Castian was born inside a Field, outside of time. He has no timeline. He belongs nowhere, and anywhere. The Field he was in was destroyed when he was young, and he and four other children...
