Bruises and Bitemarks

Chapter 15

Hi. You know who I am.

I'm the person, who doesn't do the right thing.

I'm the girl, who fell in love with someone, I saw as strong, and dangerous. I felt safe, thinking finally, someone would look out for me. That I would be on the side of the strength and power. 

I'm also the person, who covered up numerous murders, stood silently behind a sadistic jerk, the one who stole from those who had so little as well. 

I've cheated, and lied, and harmed. But unlike most of those people there, I didn't do it because I was sick. I didn't harm myself because I was ill and absolutely didn't harm others because I enjoyed it.

I did all those things for one and one reason only. 

Because I had to. 

And now... I don't know why, but this one time, I wanted to do the right thing. I took one of my greatest enemies to the hospital, and I tried to act like a normal person because it seemed to mean the world to a random guy. A random guy. 

That guy almost killed someone.

But here's the catcher;

He doesn't remember. 

For God knows why I went back to his house, but I still did.  When I entered the room, he was already at the counter, staring at me. He was normal. He was calm, a little stiff, and his expression was gentle. I couldn't even try to imagine how that cocky smile fitted his face an hour ago. 

I tried to tell him everything as softly as possible, but he didn't let me. He immediately noticed the hickeys on my neck, and that my clothes were lightly bloodstained. 

"Let me explain, please!" I asked him, not really wanting to see how he will react if I just straight out say what happened. If he would snap because of it and turn into the exact thing I wanted to tell him about, I would most likely be dead soon.

He put the mug down, which he was holding a second ago, looking at me with dead-serious eyes. 

"Who did this?" He asked, again and again, keeping his shit together pretty well. But I still saw, how bothered he was, how fixated he became on it, probably because he thought the blood on my shirt is either mine or the person's who gave me those marks.

"It's not that simple." I stated. I wished he knew how ridiculous he made this situation, and how angry he made me. Why I was the one to explain? WHy I was the one to be questioned. I shouldn't be here... 

But I was. 

"Oh, I think names are pretty simple." 

"It was you." I spat out. He froze middle word, but for my surprise, it was obvious he didn't think I'm joking for a second. It was also visible that he knew exactly, how could that happen.

And he was terrified for a short moment. 

After that, he didn't even talk to me about it. The last thing he did was asking if he had hurt me, or if he said anything alarming. I wanted to reply that everything he said was alarming, but after all, I just shook. I hoped to tell him about Jason, but I didn't get the chance, he asked me to go to my room and lock it for the night from now on. 

I didn't think this was a way to cope with this. I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to understand, what was up with him, or what he knew about it. I have never seen him scared, neither that night, but he was very disturbed and upset.