The Devils King

12

I walk back into Aces room and throw all the supplies I found onto his floor. I wasn't wanting to sit on his bed and fix his wounds, so I decided the floor would be the best place.

I mean, he had a huge room. An open room. Half the room had a slanted roof, from the edge of the house, but it paired well with his plump bed. He had black sheets on it, with white carpet(I know, perfect with his blood dropping everywhere).

He had a desk in the corner, with a good bit of trash on it and the trashcan beside it. And in another corner, sat three guitars and an amp. Two electric and one acoustic.

Hmm... He really does play guitar.

"Alright. Since you want to be stubborn looks like I'm going to have to be stubborn to. So you might as well just sit your ass down while I stitch you back together." Ace looks down at the supplies on the floor, then back at me, raising an eyebrow. "Really? Now you're playing fucking nurse? Just quit playing, Maddie." He rolled his eyes and turned around, sitting on his bed.

I shrug and plop down right on his floor, but far away from the blood. "Alright fine, then I'm not leaving here until you let me help you."

He rolls his eyes again. "Fuck off."

"You fuck off."

"This is my house."

"And this is my 'I don't give a fuck face so sit the hell down and quit being such a baby'." I give him a sarcastic smile and tilt my head. He just stared at me a minute before shaking his head and moving onto the floor across from me, slouching over.

"I hate you." He states. I shrug. "Eh, I'm used to it."

He sighs and shrugs, throwing his hands up. "Well then hurry up and 'fix' me so you can go the hell home and leave me the fuck alone." He was getting such an attitude with me. I swear this boy... he was a hard one to crack.

I hold my hand out and raise an eyebrow at him, looking directly into his hazel green eyes. "Then give me your hand, dipshit."

He looks away from me before throwing me his hand, violently. I grab his wrist and yank him closer, placing his hand on my knee palm down so I could see his knuckles. My hands tingles as his fingers graze my skin on my own hand, and my knee. I push the butterflies away and grab the wet washcloth, dabbing his blood away.

Once I clean it, enough where I could see the actual cuts, I grabbed some rubbing alcohol and poured it on his knuckles. As it bubbled and fizzed up, Ace didn't even flinch. He stayed perfectly still. I looked up at him for a moment, and he was completely staring at something else. Like his wall, or out the window. Anywhere else but me.

Wow, makes me feel great!

"So... can you at least tell me how you got all these wounds?" I mumble, as I continue to clean his wound.

"Fight." He throws out. It didn't even seem like he meant it. So I pushed it harder. "No, that's not it."

I feel him move, so I look back up at him. He stares at me, fucked up face an all, and his normal expression plastered across his face. That one of anger. Yeah, that one.

"I actually tell you one thing and you don't believe me," he huffs. "Figures. It's never good enough for you." I  purse my lips and nod, wrapping a white bandage around his knuckles and hand, making sure it was snug and tight. "You mean like how your dad's money wasn't good enough for you?" Slowly, I raise my head back up at him, raising an eyebrow.

He bites his teeth, resulting in his jaw tightening and sticking out. "What I do with the Devils doesn't concern my dad. I had my own reasons for joining."