Please Don't Go

FIVE

Warmth from the rays of sun peeking through the blinds awakens me from my slumber. Cracking open my eyes I am left momentarily confused by my surroundings. Quickly, I remember the events from last night. Blushing a bright shade of crimson. I roll over to find Eric nowhere in sight. Sighing I sit up and situate my bare feet on the cold hard wooden floors. I go to stretch and let out a little screech as the now scabbed wounds on my back reopen. The door immediately flies open and Eric comes barging in looking ready to kill any threat that may be present. He relaxes just slightly when he sees it is just me, but he quickly tenses back up and rushes over grabbing the hem of my shirt. Before I can stop him, he yanks the soft black fabric up exposing my now bleeding wounds.

"Eric!" I yell as I pull away from him and reposition my shirt to cover the wounds.

"Who did that to you!" He demands with a fiery look in his eyes.

"It does not matter. I told you last night I do not want to talk about it." I respond trying stand my ground.

"It does not matter my ass. Now I am not asking you. Tell me who did this to you this second." He demands once again, taking four large steps that put him right in front of me.

"M-Marcus Eaton. My father" I state scrunching up my nose in disgust at using the word father to describe the pathetic piece of shit he is.

Eric does not respond for what seems like forever and I begin to fear what he might do next. I am yet again left astonished when he gently grabs my hand and leads me into his bathroom. Letting go of my hand he turns to me with a blank stare.

"Take your shirt off." He instructs.

I do not move and just stare at him like he has lost his damn mind.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm just trying to clean your wounds, but I need you to take your shirt off so I can." He sighs, frustration evident on his face.

I hesitate before lazily turning away from him and hoisting my shirt over my head, but not completely taking it off. I hold the shirt securely to my chest in an attempt to keep myself covered. When an icy cotton pad touches my inflamed skin, I visibly flinch and hiss at the stinging sensation. It does not take long for the burning to dissipate and things fall silent between Eric and I as he continues to perform this mini medical procedure on my obliterated back. The sound of a low click and the feeling of my bra unlatching has me scrambling to hold my chest even tighter. As I go to protest, he stops me by informing me that it was in his way and irritating the wounds even further.

The way he deliberately and tediously works on each wound has me seeing him in a new light. Everyone else sees him as a cold hate filled killing machine who has no heart, but in this moment right here he is showing me a side of him that proves he does in fact have a heart. That same sense of security I felt last night creeps up my spine again and I sigh content with being here. Part of me knows that I need to be careful, but another part is curious to dig deeper into who he truly is as a person.

"All done.' He states breaking me out of my train of thought.

"Thank you." I reply

"No problem, but please go to the infirmary so they can give you something for the pain."

"No. I am not going to the infirmary. You're the third person to suggest that." I grunt rolling my eyes.

"Who else knows about your back?"

"My brother and Tris." I state and my eyes go wide in realization of what I just said.

"Your brother?" He asks confused.

"Brother? What I did not say brother." I laugh nervously as I pretend, I never said it.

"Yes, you did. Who is your Brother? Tell me now." He says putting that cold intimidating demeanor back on.