The Poison in her Veins

A Moment

 Everyone was gathered near the weights and Oliver was looking over a clipboard with a pen and paper. I walk as evenly as I can back to the group, my adrenaline has worn off from everything that has happened this morning. As he starts to talk about the run and who did and did not meet the expectations, his eyes scan everyone back and forth until they land on me. His eyes burn into mine until he finally turns his attention towards Tate, announcing his first-place finish. Anger and frustration start to pulse through me like before with Tate and I can feel the ground shake slightly underneath us. Snapping myself out of my anger, I look around in confusion to see some kids staring at the ground too. Shaking off what must have been a hallucination from all of the pain right now, I try to pay attention. "...so I want two more hours of weights, knives, and arrows. Figure out your stations and I want everyone to practice and perfect each." I groan wondering how I was going to make it through these next two hours. I first go to the knives because it was the station I could try and switch hands so that I didn't have to use my bad hand. My shots were a little off but surprisingly not as bad as I had expected with my left hand.

After an hour I switched to weights and I mentally prepare myself for the pain to follow. In all the workouts I do, I'm trying to put the weights more towards my fingertips so that it's not directly on the stitching. I'm not doing nearly as many reps as I usually do and have to take a break after 30 minutes. Just as I begin to lift again, a clipboard slams against the table near me. "BLAKE!" Oliver's voice rang out across the gym as he stared at me with annoyance. "25 pull-ups without stopping. We don't just take breaks whenever we want to here. Get over yourself, you shouldn't be whining about not being able to finish first on the run. We all knew you couldn't anyways so not a big surprise." The room had gone quiet and a few kids snickered in the back while everyone else watched me intently, challenging me to see if I would actually do the pull-ups. I jumped up grabbing the bar, my hand burning. I made it to 17 pull-ups and my hands is starting to sleep from pain and the blood that had again seeped out of the bandage and coating part of the bar. I pull myself up once more as sweat trickled into my eyes. As I try coming up for another one my hand slips and I fall onto my shoulder that had almost fully healed from when Harry dislocated it. I groan loudly and a large hand wraps around my upper arm, dragging me up with a harsh tug. "Everyone get out. I expect you all to be early and warmed up before training tomorrow." Oliver's eyes never leave mine as he orders everyone out. A minute later we're the only ones left. He grabs my bad shoulder and spins me around. "What's wrong with you? I won't have this weak, pathetic attitude in my training and if you want to continue like this just because you got a little shove during the run, then you can forget about showing up to my classes anymore. And honestly, if you want my attention so badly you're going to have to wait in line behind all the other girls that want to fuck." I'm too tired and in pain to think of any comeback or snarky response so I nod my head shortly and start to turn to go back to my room.

"Sorry, it won't happen again. Can I go now?" Confusion and shock at my obedience swam in Oliver's eyes until they land on my bloody hand. Without responding he takes my wrist and pulls me closer to him. He begins carefully removing the tape and I try to pull my hand away, not wanting him to see the gash. He sharply looks at me, halting my movements. Peeling off the rest of the bandage he winces as he examines my hand. Cautiously looking down I wince too, seeing that it was now oozing pus and blood, the stitches that I attempted to do proving to be worthless as they were already loose.

"Geez Blake, what did you do?" Rolling my eyes, I try to take my hand out of his grasp again, only to fail with his unrelenting grip. I stay silent, too worn out to fight anymore. "Was this from today and did you stitch this yourself?" I remain silent. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair and drags me towards a bench, motioning for me to sit down as he gets the same med kit I used to stitch it earlier. Kneeling down in front of me in silence he pours rubbing alcohol on a small towel, patting it around the stitches. By the time he's midway through pulling out the stitches, my hand is so numb that I can't feel anything anymore. Before I know it, he has re-stitched the wound making it look much better than what I had done. I can feel the heat radiating off of him at our close proximity and my pulse quickens. He rests my hand to the side as he puts everything away again. Once he finishes, I stare over his shoulder, unable to look into his captivating blue orbs. We sit like this for a minute until he blows out a long breath and stands back from me. "Try not to be so clumsy next time. I can't afford to have my weaker students missing training." The moment is gone and he's back to being a prick. Anger flares within me; how many times do I have to prove myself to him before he stops treating me like a pathetic child? There's no reason for him to hate me so much either since he was the one who brought me to this place, not the other way around.

"Yeah, no problemo Oli. Next time I'll tie my shoes a little tighter so I don't trip at the finish." I smirk at him and quickly walk out of the gym, not wanting to hear anything else.