A Rose To The Flames

Chapter 3

I wake up and groan. Everywhere hurts. I slowly sit up.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty." He says, his morning voice raspy.

I look over and he is reading a book, he has glasses which make him more attractive for some reason. What am I saying? I don't like him. How could I like him, he's an eagle.

I stand up and rush towards the door. My father is probably waiting for me me. I stop at the door and groan, clutching my stomach.

"Where are you going?" He asks putting his book down and standing up.

"I have to get back to my father." I say opening the door.

"I'll walk you." He says taking a step towards me.

"No." I say rushing out of the door and down the hallway, my hand pressed hard against my stomach.

He leans his head out of the door. "Wait! Can I at least know your name?" He yells.

"Rose." I yell back and then run away.

I run towards the camp but am grabbed into an alleyway by some guy.

"You're a young one." He says stroking my face and yanking me closer to him with my hair.

I knee him and then step away from him, doubling over in pain.

He grunts and then forcefully hits the top off my head, and forces me upwards.

He calls me some not so nice names and pulls me farther into the alley.

"Get away from me." I shout, struggling in his grip, fighting to bring my arm back to my wound.

He grabs my arm closer and hits me again.

He looks past me and immediately let's go of me. I whirl around and see none other than the guy from last night.

"Get to the side." He commands me. I roll my eyes but comply as he takes care of the man who grabbed me. I lean against the wall, hand over my stomach.

Eventually, he comes back over to me. He grabs a washcloth and wipes away the blood from a cut on my face.

"Did he do this to you?" He asks.

"What?" I ask.

"Did he hit you?" He demands.

"Yes, but it's-" I start. He rushes over to the man and hits him a few times. While he's away, I notice my hand become coated with a sticky, red substance. Blood.

When he's done beating the man up, he comes back over to me. His eyes move towards my stomach. The blood bleeding through my shirt.

He sits me down on a curb and pulls the same needle and thread out of his bag. I clench my teeth as he starts to sew my wound together.

I wince and let out a little yelp as he reaches a particularly painful spot.

"Sorry." He mutters, focuses on his work.

He ties the thread together outside of the wound and puts the materials back in his bag.

"Let me walk you home." He says, trying to contain his anger. I notice his jaw clenched as he avoids my gaze.

"No." I say.

"It's not a question." He replies.

"Fine." I reluctantly agree.

He throws the bag over his shoulder and grabs my hand to help me stand up. I put my other hand on my wound and together, we stand up.

I wander through town, looking for a house that looks empty, he trails behind me.