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3. Waking Up

He inhaled deeply and groggily opened his eyes. The scene was different than anything he was familiar with. Before he even lifted his head he could see it was bright and homey and welcoming. The curtains were sheer cream with delicate patterns on them. The air smelled sweet. He recalled the night before and wondered if he was finally dead. The small groan from somewhere nearby knocked him to his senses.

He shot up from the couch and looked around. He let out a yell as the pain caught up to him and seared through his side. He noticed the girl on the floor stir. The girl from last night. She laid on the floor on her side with her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyebrows furrowed. There was a gash over her eye and dry blood on her face.

His head moved cautiously as he scanned the room. He had no idea how this girl could have managed to drag him here, but he seemed to be ok and her stupidly unguarded self didn't seem very threatening. Still, he needed some answers. He awkwardly forced a cough hoping to wake her up, wincing from the pain and instantly regretting it. It worked, though. She sluggishly sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"You're awake? How are you feeling? Try not to move too much, I don't know how well those stitches will hold."

"Stitches?" He said surprised as he held up the blanket, noticing his naked torso and the bandages on his side.

"Sorry, I'll find you a shirt. Just wait and I'll make you some food too. You should really eat something."

She left the room and he looked around in a daze wondering how he managed to survive last night. He felt like complete shit. Every miniscule movement summoned a sharp pain that radiated from his side and seem to echo in every inch of his torso, inside and out. If someone had stuck him in a dryer, turned it on and then tossed the dryer down a hill and then ran into it with a truck, he imagined it would feel something like this. He rubbed his forehead hoping it would give him some clarity. How did he even get here? Who was this girl that she so casually gave some guy with a stab wound stitches?

She returned a short time later and tossed a t-shirt to him. With great effort and pain, he managed to shrug it on and she came back again with a small tray and set it next to him on the couch. He eyed her quietly, with curious caution.

"There's nothing wrong with your hands, so you can eat that fine on your own, right?" She asked, gesturing toward the bowl of porridge. "Make sure you drink lots of water too." She opened the bottle and handed it to him before sitting on the floor in front of him.

He hesitantly complied and gulped it down. He was grateful to have the desert in his throat quenched. He set the bottle down and quietly started to eat. He felt weak and couldn't refuse. It tasted good and the warmth filled his belly and spread over his body. In between bites he glanced at her, who was quietly watching him.

"Are you the only one here?" He asked.

"Yes, for now. My little brother lives here too but he is away with friends for a couple days."

"How did you manage to get me here after I fainted?" The conversation began to turn into an interrogation.

"We aren't far from where you collapsed. I was trying to get you here myself, but I failed pretty miserably." She pointed to her forehead. "I ran into my neighbor and he helped me carry you here." He started to look a little nervous at the statement. "I covered you pretty well and told him you were drunk so I don't think he saw that you were injured." She added.

"Are you a doctor or something?"

"Not at all, so don't sue me if you die." She giggled. The sound rang like bells through the small space. He looked at her blankly and she stopped laughing. "Sorry, that wasn't really funny. I'm not a doctor. My father was a doctor. He would bring people home a lot that couldn't afford to go to a hospital and treat them there, so I learned a lot."