Of Gods and Memories (LokixFemaleReader) [COMPLETED]

3

I ride all night, stopping eventually at a small pharmacy which is thankfully open 24/7.

I grab gauze pads, thread, antiseptic wipes, and a suture needle. Sitting in the parking lot, I roll up the arm of my jacket, exposing the little bump of my ID/tracker. Pulling a small, sharp knife from my belt and taking a breath in, I carefully make an incision over it.

It stings, and blood leaks forth. I keep going, grabbing one of the pads and mopping the blood from my arm. Pulling a pair of tweezers from the little emergency pack in my motorcycle, I fish around in the cut until I find what I'm looking for. Wincing, I pull the little device from my arm and inspect it in the dull early morning light. It doesn't look like much, just a little black and silver square of plastic and metal, shining red with my blood.

"Ugh," I mutter, placing it gently on the seat of my motorbike.

I thread the needle, then carefully pull away the gauze pad on my arm. A lot of the bleeding has stopped, but I know I've got to be quick. Breathing in, I pinch the sides of my cut together and push the needle through, pulling the thread tight.

When I'm done, I tie a knot at the end of my neat row of stitches, biting the loose ends off. I lean back, breathing shakily and feeling slightly sick. I'm not a squeamish person, but there's something gross about removing an implant from yourself then stitching up the wound.

I smear some antiseptic cream over the cut, then place another dressing over it, finishing the whole thing off with a bandage. I've still got another 16 hours to go before I reach the little house I keep just outside Gladstone, ND.

I pull my sleeve back down over the bandage and get on my bike, breaking the tracker in two and throwing the pieces on the ground.

It takes all of the next day before I finally get to Gladstone, and by that time I'm almost falling asleep on my bike. I drive through the little town, almost missing the turnoff in my tiredness. I make it just in time, my tires crunching over the gravel as I swerve into the driveway.

It's a small block of land, backing directly onto a copse of trees, my tiny little house edged in by them. It looks just the same as I left it, the shed and door locked up, blinds drawn over the windows. I unlock the shed door, driving my bike inside and grabbing my stuff from it, then relocking it after me. I climb the three steps onto the porch, fumbling with my keys as I try to open the door.

I get it after a few tries, and stumble through into the living room. I look around, everything's just as I left it. The kitchenette is in perfect order, the cupboards that fill in the small space under the stairs that lead to my bed are just as ordered as I left them, and the furniture (one small armchair and a coffee table) is just as I left it.

I sigh, placing my bags on the armchair and removing my shoes, kicking them into a corner by the door. It's evening, so I decide to unpack my things and then go to sleep, I'll sort everything out in the morning.

I barely make it through the next ten minutes, and only the thought that once I get my clothes put away, once I stash my weapons, once I change into panamas of sorts, then I can sleep.

Finally, I pull off my clothes, leaving just my panties, and slip a large cotton t-shirt over my head. I climb wearily up the stairs/ladder and collapse onto my soft mattress, not even bothering with a pillow or the duvet.

Short chapter this time, but I'm trying to make them more reasonable length. Hope you're enjoying this!