***
❝I never craved attention,
until I tasted yours.❞
— High Poets Society***
CHAPTER 7
> OLIVIA <
I AM UTTERLY, completely shocked by the sight in front of me.
Seven is covered in blood from head to toe. Blood is dripping from his leg, shoulder and biceps to the floor and painting the white tile crimson red.
''Seven?'' I gasp after my scream and hurry to put the lights on. I'm afraid to see what he looks like under the brightness of the lamp, but I can't stop myself from turning back to him.
He's dressed in black clothes as always, but I notice that they're drenched - from blood? - and his bulletproof vest is covered in in bullet holes. His hair, a mess. Everywhere where's skin is showing, it's covered in blood.
''What- '' I ask and can't seem to finish the sentence. ''What...''
''I'm fine'', he grunts and starts to strap his vest off his chest. ''Most of this blood isn't mine.''
My mouth drops open and Seven's eyes widen as he realizes what he said. It's obvious that he has killed, but for him to actually say it aloud makes it so dozen times more real.
''You're not fine'', I stutter and try to ignore what he said the best I can. ''You're hurt!''
''Just some scratches'', he mutters but keeps his gaze locked on me.
''Scratches?'' I say, fear starting to nag at me. ''Have you seen yourself? You look like you're going to black out any second! You need to go to the hospital.''
''Olivia - '' He starts but I interrupt him, because I already know what he's going to say.
''Stop, just stop'', I blurt. For some reason, the sight of him like this - hurt, bleeding - is stretching the limits of my own endurance and usually when that happens, I don't care about what I'm saying anymore. ''Seven, you're not okay. If you don't want to go to the hospital, at least let me help you then.''
Seven raises his eyebrows, completely unmoving and I realize I've shocked him. He obviously hadn't expected me to help and I can't understand why.
Have I appeared somewhat uncaring in front of him?
The thought of him thinking something like that about me makes me feel more miserable than I'd like to admit. I want him to know that I will help him like he has helped me. I want him to... trust me.
Logically, I know I shouldn't be thinking like this. He's a killer and has admitted it himself many times. But if I've learned something in my life, it's that the world isn't just black and white. It's swimming in thousands different shades of grey.
Just like Seven.
Even though he looks cold and emotionless, I'm starting to finally see beneath the surface of those empty, dark eyes of his. I know that there have to be something inside of him. Something that has driven him to this point of numbness. Something or someone in his past, maybe.
And I want to know what that is.
It's crazy and unbelievable, the way I'm thinking right now. I should be concerned about my own problems, should be thinking about what to do with dad's condition and Savannah's well-being. Instead, I'm worrying over Seven.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Shreds
RomantiekHim and I... we're not meant to be together. I'm nineteen years old girl with a sick dad and three jobs. He's twenty-eight years old Irish man who kills bad guys for work. He's driven by his thirst for revenge on those who hurt him and has enemies w...