The Risks

May: Chapter 4

Looking back over my shoulder, I squinted against the sunlight. Oakley was way over on the other side of town. I didn't like being away from her like this; it made me anxious. But right now I needed to get off this leg or I might just find out what it's like to pass out.

He led me around the side of a two story brick house and to the cellar doors which had a large padlock on it. He pulled a key out of his pocked and unlocked the doors, then after we went inside, he locked them back up from the inside. I followed him up the wooden basement stairs -limping the whole way- and to the main level of the house.

As he entered the area, he began switching on small battery powered lamps and lighting scented wax candles. The mixture of aromas wasn't the best, but it was probably much better than how I smelled at the moment.

I noticed immediately that the front door was nailed shut with thick planks of wood and I understood why we had come up through the basement instead of using the front door.

I could see that it was just a simple house with quaint wallpaper and curtains. It was still well decorated, with hanging photos and- wait. The family photo that hung on the wall. A woman with shoulder length brown hair and soft features, a brawny man with buzzed light hair, and three boys. One older, one younger and... the middle son. He was the man who'd brought me here. This was his house. Before.

I leaned against the couch in the living room while he walked into the kitchen. I could heard him fumbling around in the cabinets.

"Bathroom," he called. "In here, off the kitchen."

I limped through the kitchen and into the small bathroom as he gathered his supplies. I sat on the edge of the bathtub and dragged my hands over my face, only to realize a second later that I was just smearing the blood around.

Why did I let a stranger bring me to this house? What was I thinking? Well, in my defense, I kind of had to. I couldn't just stay trapped in that store with three corpses. I couldn't just take off on my own because I would have never made it past those things by myself and not to mention I didn't have any knowledge on how to mend my wound. Even if I did make it back to Oakley, I couldn't let her see me like this -all shook up, covered in blood, a fucking knife sticking out of my leg. Hell, in all reality, I probably would have removed the knife back at the store and bled out before even making it back to her.

I wish I'd had other choices than coming here. I didn't want to be here with a stranger, miles away from my younger sister who was alone and probably terrified right now, but this was where I was at.

I stood to look into the mirror and tired hazel green eyes looked back at me. Damn. I looked like a mess. I was right about smearing the blood. I felt my stomach roll, but controlled it before I could see a reappearance of my latest meal. I turned the handle on the sink, but no water came out. Duh. There hadn't been running water for weeks back home. I don't know why I even bothered.

The door opened and my captor/savior entered carrying a small medical kit. He told me to sit on the edge of the tub. I listened without remark. He knelt in front of me and examined the wound, eyes squinted.

"We've got to take it out," he told me. "Then I can see what exactly we're dealing with."

I nodded, to him or maybe to myself. I didn't know. I wrapped my hand around the handle, wincing.

Okay. It's got to be done, so just suck it up and do it.

I clenched my teeth hard then pulled the knife out in one quick movement. Searing pain shot through my leg and I couldn't help but release a noise sort of like a quiet scream through my teeth. I was still holding the knife in my trembling fist as I watched the blood blossom on my thigh. Opening my hand, the blade clattered into the tub. He pressed a hand towel against the flow.